Page 61 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
Her desk, too, was tidy, cleared of clutter, only the laptop standing open, a cursor blinking on the screen.
Lily put down the hamper and stepped forward, unable to suppress her curiosity.
Victoria had written THE END in bold capitals, beneath a line which made Lily smile.
And they all lived happily … maybe not forever after, but certainly for as long as anyone needs.
The book was done. Lily’s immediate thrill was tempered by her fear for Victoria. What if she had gone and done something stupid now that her work was done?
Lily rushed to the window and looked out, but the meadow behind the annexe was empty. She scanned the tree line of the woodland on the far side, but saw no sign of Victoria there either.
She went back out to the hall. There were several other rooms but Victoria was paying for them all to keep the annexe to herself. Lily tried each door one by one, but they were all still locked.
Hurrying downstairs, she looked in the common areas and the unused kitchen that Uncle Gus had installed, but still saw no sign of Victoria. Starting to worry now, she ran out onto the old platform, and was about to call for Michael when she spotted a figure sitting beneath the willow trees by the riverside.
The floral hat was a giveaway. Lily breathed a sigh of relief as Victoria reached up and ran a hand through the nearest weeping willow branches, plucking a leaf free.
Lily was about to call out when movement to her left caught her eye.
Michael, walking slowly, moved along the riverbank towards Victoria. Lily felt like the only person in a cinema, watching a climatic final scene as Michael lifted a hand to wave as Victoria turned. Over the breeze, Victoria’s soft cry of surprise was barely audible as she put a hand over her mouth.
‘Hello, Mother,’ Michael said as Victoria, tears in her eyes, stood up. ‘It’s been a long time.’
Victoria said something Lily couldn’t hear, then Michael opened his arms and stepped forward, pulling Victoria into a hug. As Victoria, sobbing, buried her head into Michael’s shoulder, Lily began to feel a little uncomfortable. Opting to give them their private space, she walked to the end of the platform, down a set of steps to the cycle path, and down on to the riverbank, where she sat on a bench to watch the languid flow of the river. Fallen leaves scattered its surface now, turning it into a flow of orange brown. A pair of swans moved through the water, poking at the leaves as though frustrated they weren’t little fish. The breeze was getting stronger, perhaps suggesting a turn in the weather. Lily reached up to rub her shoulders against the cold, and almost cried out as her hand met another hand, reaching down.
‘Sorry,’ Michael said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’ He rolled his eyes and smiled. ‘Um, Marigold, isn’t it? Ah, my mother was wondering what happened to her breakfast.’
Lily couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah, Marigold, that’ll do. It’s over there, on that picnic table.’
‘She said she went for a stroll after finishing her book,’ he said. Then, with a grin, he added, ‘You were late, apparently.’
‘I was distracted.’
‘Tut tut. And she says, thank you.’
‘Thank you? What for?’
A shadow appeared by Michael’s shoulder, and Victoria’s face appeared. She frowned, as though being faced with a reality she hadn’t known existed. ‘For your help, dear,’ she said. ‘For the book, and for helping me come back to myself.’
Lily smiled. ‘All in a day’s work,’ she said.
29
Confrontation
Michael and Victoria had a lot to talk about, so Lily left them alone for a while, walking up along the cycle path to the old Moor Cross tunnel, where she stopped to talk to a couple of fishermen sitting by the river. She was gone longer than she had planned, and when she walked back past the annexe at around eleven o’clock, she found Michael sitting alone outside.
‘Is everything all right?’
Michael smiled as he stood up. ‘It’s a work in progress, but we’re getting there,’ he said. ‘She knows I forgive her for whatever happened during my childhood. I don’t want to hold grudges, and she’s sorry for the way she treated Dad. That’s enough for me, and we’re going to move forward.’ He nodded up at the windows. ‘And she’s decided to move forward too. Or at least move out. She told me she’s got her eye on a cottage on the edge of the village. Do you know the one with the thatched roof on the road to Brentwell? It’s up for auction next week, apparently. When my mother isn’t writing, she spends a lot of time browsing Rightmove.’
‘That place? That’s where Christina used to live. It’s absolutely gorgeous inside.’
‘The current owners only have it as a holiday home, apparently.’
‘I bet it’ll cost a fortune.’
Michael shrugged. ‘I think Mother is sitting on a lot of money. Good luck to her.’
