Page 55 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
‘You’ve had no contact in five years?’
‘I get cards at Christmas and on my birthday—well, within a few days—so I knew she was alive. I just trusted her to live her life. And—’ His smile dropped.
Lily found herself wanting to reach for his hand, and had to make a conscious effort to keep her own hands on the table.
‘What is it?’
‘She was never the best mother in the world. It wasn’t like she was abusive or even neglectful, she was just … inattentive. I didn’t miss her when I went to boarding school, because I’d seen how she treated my father. I kept in touch with her, but I also got back in touch with him, and we had started to meet up, to repair the relationship she had broken. Then he died suddenly, and that was that.’
This time Lily couldn’t help herself. She reached across the table, realised too late what she was doing, and settled for putting a hand over his jacket arm instead, as though that were somehow less suggestive.
Michael looked up and smiled but made no move to pull his arm away. Lily’s heart almost burst out of her throat as he lowered his own hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to sound like I have issues with my childhood or anything like that. I’m over all of it. It was what it was, and I’ve reached the stage where I have no hard feelings. I’d really like to repair my relationship with my mother. I was thinking about her a lot, and your message came at exactly the right time. That it was from you, as well….’
He trailed off. His hand was still over hers. Lily gazed at him, wondering what was going on. Was this what it felt like? Was this love at first sight?
‘So, tell me,’ Michael said. ‘What have you been doing these last few years? I gather you’re working at the guesthouse these days.’
He gently moved his hand away, and Lily felt like she could breathe again. Even so, it took a couple of breaths to compose herself.
‘Only for the last couple of months,’ she said. ‘I was living in London before that … oh, bloody hell.’
‘What?’
Lily grimaced. ‘I was supposed to be meeting someone.’
‘Really? I’m sorry if I distracted you.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Michael. I have to go. Where are you—can I see you—’ She grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged it as though that might shake some sense into her.
‘At the guesthouse, and yes,’ Michael said, also standing up. ‘I’m too scared to approach my mother until you’ve smoothed the way for me. Until then, I’ll just wander around for a bit, perhaps take a photograph or two, then see if the guesthouse has any decent craft ales.’
‘Okay, that’s great. Lily brushed a couple of leaves off her clothes. ‘That’s great. Ah, didn’t I just say that?’
‘You did.’
‘Then I’ll see you later?’
‘Most definitely.’
They stood and looked at each other for a few seconds. Lily was still churning inside, but Michael looked as though he never wanted to look away.
‘Right, bye,’ Lily said, lifting a hand and giving an awkward flap she hoped would pass as a wave. Then, before she could do something really ridiculous like run over and hug him, she turned and ran for the stairs up to the bridge.
27
Changing of the Guard
By the time Lily got to the church, some thirty minutes late, Steve was nowhere to be seen. She glanced over the wall into the graveyard, wondering if he might have taken the hint and buried himself, but the graveyard was empty. Lily paused for a moment to appreciate the primroses planted along the path up to the door, their colour giving a bit of warmth to the field of lichen-covered stones. Then, giving a shake of the head, wondering when she had become so strangely dizzy, she went looking for Steve.
The obvious place was the pub, but inside its dark confines she found only a couple of tourists playing pool. Rick, standing behind the bar, told her he’d seen nothing of an arty-looking guy, but promised to say Lily was looking for him should he come in.
Outside, she wandered down Willow River’s small high street, wondering where he might have gone. There was no one in the fish ‘n’ chip shop, nor in the greengrocers or bakers. She walked past her mother’s craft shop, but Delia, her mother’s part time assistant, was alone, stringing up some more dreamcatchers in the window.
Finally, she came to the coffee shop, and glancing in the window, found her worst fears realised. Two young girls—Lily guessed they might be university students judging by the designer hiking gear they wore—sat at a table in the corner, while across from them sat Steve, leaning forward, hands gesticulating animatedly as he told them some fanciful tale that, while not keeping them literally on the edge of their seats, certainly had them entertained.
Lily wondered whether she ought to interrupt the party, and was about to push through the door when she saw Steve pull out his phone. The girls responded by pulling out theirs, and in the moment before Steve opened his Whatsapp to collect their contacts, Lily caught a glimpse of his front screen.
