Page 64 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
Victoria smiled. ‘It’s quite all right. Um, Lily here has managed to convince me that my books meant a little to some people.’
‘A little to some people?’ Mary said. ‘They mean a lot to practically everyone I know.’
Victoria gave another little laugh, and Lily grinned. It had taken some convincing to get Victoria out of her new house, but she was becoming more comfortable as the minutes passed.
‘Your compliments are very flattering,’ Victoria said.
‘Don’t worry,’ Mary added. ‘I won’t tell a soul. Not unless you want me to.’
‘Lily said I could trust you,’ Victoria said. ‘Which is why I … ah, have another favour, if you don’t mind.’
‘What, me?’
Victoria leaned down and opened the satchel she had brought. She lifted a thick cardboard envelope and put it on the table.
‘It’s my next book,’ she said, with a shy smile. ‘It took a little longer to finish than I’d hoped, but I would be very happy if you could do me the pleasure of reading it, and then letting me know what you think. Kind of a beta reader, so to speak.’
Mary wiped her brow. ‘My goodness, I think I’m about to go into labour.’
Lily stood up quickly. ‘Seriously?’
Mary shook her head. ‘No. It was a pregnant woman’s figure of speech. Victoria, it would be an absolute pleasure to read your book. I gather it’s a total secret?’
‘For now,’ Victoria said. ‘Thank you very much.’
Lily helped Mary bring over the coffees—although buried beneath mounds of whipped cream, nuts, and maple syrup, it was difficult to be sure what exactly was underneath—then the three of them sat down, and within a couple of minutes they were talking as though they’d all been friends for years.
‘So what do you think about Willow River?’ Mary asked, nodding at the window. Across the road, skeletal trees encircled the churchyard. Rain blown under the awning by the wind spotted the glass. ‘It can get pretty grim over the winter.’
Victoria spooned a lump of cream into her mouth, licked her lips, and lifted an eyebrow.
‘I think it’s a delightful little place,’ she said.
‘It’ll be a bit weird living with Mother again after all these years,’ Michael said, one arm behind Lily’s back as they half sat, half lay on the sofa in her parents’ living room. Both Pete and Sarah were out, giving them a little space. ‘She’ll need me for a while until she’s properly moved in, but perhaps then I’ll look at renting a flat in Brentwell for a while.’
Lily looked at him. ‘Really?’
Michael shrugged. ‘I mean, I’m a modern man and all that, and I know you’re a modern girl, and neither of us believe in whirlwind romances or love at first sight and all those crazy storybook things, but you know, I kind of don’t want to be any further away from you than I have to be.’
‘What about your work?’
‘Well, it’s kind of the closed season now, so if you can get a bit of time off work, we can go together. There are so many naff museums I need to show you. You have no idea.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Lily said. ‘Uncle Gus has agreed to sell me the annexe, so I can turn it into a café, but I won’t get started until after Christmas.’ She leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his body. ‘Do you think Victoria’s book will be a success?’ she asked at last.
‘She’s only just shown it to her editor and apparently a bidding war for the film rights has started already,’ he said.
‘That’s great. What’s your favourite bit?’
Michael leaned sideways and lifted an unkempt stack of printed sheets of A4 paper. He turned over the title page and put the rest on his lap.
‘Probably this bit,’ he said. ‘The dedication.’
He lifted up the page and tilted it towards her. Lily had seen it before, but it still made her smile.
For:
Tiffany
