Page 16 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
No answer. Lily took off her shoes as was required of all guests, and put them into a cupboard for shoes beside the door. There were several other pairs there, some that looked expensive. Then, stepping up onto an old threadbare carpet, she made her way into the guesthouse.
A downstairs living area had a square of sofas around a coffee table laden with books and magazines on antique furniture. An old gramophone sat on a scored mahogany table in one corner, near a tall lacquered chest of drawers. More shelves of ornaments filled every available space; lines of Russian matryoshka dolls, metal American classic car toys, stuffed bears and dolls, their clothes and fur faded, stared blankly into space, as though remembering joyful children now long dead.
‘Is anyone here?’
Finally, Lily heard movement from behind a door leading to the guesthouse kitchens. The door creaked open and the soft thud of footfalls approached. Lily’s heart raced before her uncle’s basset hound, Rufus, padded into view from behind a chest of drawers, looked up at her with delightfully sad eyes, gave a quick sniff and then let his tongue loll in greeting.
‘Hello there, old guy,’ Lily said, leaning down to pet the dog she hadn’t seen since leaving for university eight years before. In those days, Rufus would have gladly waddled after a tennis ball tossed across the field outside. Now, after allowing her a couple of minutes of fuss, he headed back to a basket just behind the door.
Lily pushed open the door into the kitchens and peered inside. ‘Hello? It’s Lily. Anyone about?’
‘Boo!’ came a sudden cry from behind her, followed by a howl of laughter as Lily, terrified, crashed forward into a line of hanging pans, managing to catch one as it slipped off its hook and came tumbling down. She turned, heart racing, only to find Uncle Gus, dressed in a sky-blue apron and wearing an equally sky-blue chef’s hat, bellowing with laughter.
‘Ah, Lillian, dear, had you going there. Probably thought this place was haunted, didn’t you? Nope, still full of life after all these years.’ Uncle Gus’s thick beard, protected by an upside-down hair net, shook as he turned to the kitchen. ‘Gert, she’s here. You can tell the guests to come back inside now.’
Lily was still too shocked to speak. She looked down at Rufus in his basket, the old dog lifting an ear as though to acknowledge her as a co-sufferer, before settling back down and closing his eyes.
‘We’ve all been expecting you,’ Uncle Gus said, waving Lily to follow him into the kitchen. He had put on even more weight since Lily had last seen him, his body brushing the walls as he walked, his towering frame causing hanging pots to clang and clatter. As he led her into a kitchen incongruously bright compared to the rest of the guesthouse, Aunt Gert appeared through a glass door leading into the conservatory, waving a handful of rather disgruntled-looking guests back into the indoor restaurant area.
‘Everyone, this is my little niece,’ Aunt Gert said to the handful of middle-aged and elderly guests, none of which seemed particularly interested. ‘Hasn’t she grown?’
Lily hadn’t actually grown at all since she had last seen her aunt. Gertrude, however, was as small as Uncle Gus was big, a tiny grey-haired thing who barely reached Lily’s shoulders. Like some kind of human hamster, all Lily could ever remember her eating at family parties through her teenage years were carrot and cucumber sticks, and she looked light enough that Lily could have carried one of her over each shoulder. As her hands reached up and patted Lily’s cheeks, however, Lily felt a wiry strength borne from long hours of hotel work.
‘Right,’ Uncle Gus said, clapping his hands together with a meaty thud. ‘Let’s get these breakfasts done. Lily, you’re on eggs. Ever fried one?’
‘Ah … a couple of times.’
‘Gert, how many do we need?’
‘Thirteen.’
Uncle Gus pointed at a wide stainless steel area that Lily had taken to be a work surface. ‘Switch is on the wall. Let’s make these campers happy!’
Clapping his hands together again, the kitchen seemed to fill with movement and life. Gas ignited, microwaves switched on, sausages started to sizzle. A radio started playing some heavy rock track from the eighties, to which Uncle Gus began to bellow along. Rufus lifted his head and gave a low, lonely howl—either in suffering or enjoyment, Lily was unsure—while Lily herself turned to what appeared to be a giant grill and wondered how on earth she was going to fry thirteen eggs all at the same time.
10
Special Guest
Despite her low expectations, breakfast appeared to be a success. At least, to Lily’s knowledge no one complained about eggs she was sure were half over done and half under. As Aunt Gert scooped them onto plates she paused at each, as though aware which customer would appreciate which.
When the last customer to finish got up and headed back to his room, Uncle Gus clapped his hands together again, causing a line of hanging antique mugs to shudder.
‘Good work, everyone,’ he said, then reached up and pulled off both his chef’s hat and beard-net. Thick, curly hair sprung up as though desperate to escape, and his beard bounced down to touch his chest. It was grey more than brown these days, but Uncle Gus still looked like he’d got a sheep stuck on his head and had to burrow holes for his eyes, nose and mouth. Lily’s dad, who was starting to go bald, had missed the bus when the family’s hair had been dished out.
‘Your dad was wrong,’ Aunt Gert said, smiling up at Lily. ‘You do know the right way round for a spatula.’
Lily grimaced. ‘Did he tell you I don’t know the difference between sugar and salt?’
Uncle Gus bellowed with a sudden hurricane of laughter. ‘You’re safe there,’ he said. ‘We let the customers deal with the condiments themselves.’ Then, smiling—at least as far as Lily could tell—he added, ‘How are you, dear? Your dad said you were having a bad run of things.’
Lily shrugged. ‘Lost my car, my flat, my job and my fiancé in the space of a couple of days.’
Aunt Gert came up to Lily and cupped both her cheeks with hands that smelled of orange zest. With an intent look in her eyes that made Lily a little nervous, she said, ‘Which of those do you miss the most?’
Lily couldn’t help but smile. ‘The car,’ she said.
Uncle Gus bellowed with laughter again. Aunt Gert threw her hands up in the air fast enough to make Lily’s cheeks smart, then cried, ‘But of course!’
