Page 43 of Autumn at the Willow River Guesthouse
(Lily, pack it in)
She gave her cheek a light slap, closed her browser, then immediately opened it again when she realised she hadn’t replied. Her fingers trembled as she started to type.
Dear Michael, it was lovely to hear from you again—
‘Delete,’ she muttered.
Hey Michael, thanks for—
‘Delete!’
Michael—
She closed the browser again, gripped the side of her face with her hands and tried not to growl, howl, snarl, or make any other kind of animal noise that might disturb Uncle Gus and Aunt Gert from the game of Risk they were currently halfway through.
She was working until five today, although, as she had discovered over the last few weeks, when there wasn’t much to do, Uncle Gus and Aunt Gert were quite happy for her to hang around the place and do her own thing, on the off chance that someone rang up or a guest arrived.
‘You know those scones that Jimmy’s mother dropped round?’ she said, poking her head into the restaurant. ‘I was thinking of taking a couple down to Victoria. Can you handle the phones?’
Uncle Gus didn’t look up from the game, but lifted a hand and gave her a thumbs’ up, which she took as an affirmative. Smiling at Uncle Gus’s grim expression as Aunt Gert sat back in her chair, chuckling to herself, Lily went into the kitchen and prepared a spread of afternoon tea for Victoria: some scones, a couple of rounds of tuna and cress sandwiches, some French Fancy cakes, and then threw in a wholegrain blueberry muffin just for a little healthy balance.
A few brittle leaves fluttered across the path as she cycled down to the annexe, the afternoon sun turning the line of willow trees into mottled explosions of autumn colour. Lily parked her bike outside, then went around to the annexe’s rear and set out a picnic blanket on the grass she had cut a couple of days before. Then, leaving the hamper outside, she went into the building and upstairs to knock on Victoria’s door.
Her initial knock was unanswered, so Lily frowned as she lifted her hand to knock again. She had never tried to coax Victoria outside during the afternoon before, but figured that if her attempts failed, she could always carry on down the cycle path and pick a random fisherman to treat to an afternoon picnic.
Just as she went to knock once more, the door flew open, and Victoria appeared, dressed in an elegant beige coat that reached to her knees. She looked like the lead in a cozy mystery series, the kind set in rural villages just like Willow River. So initially shocked did Lily feel, that she almost forgot to stop her hand before it struck Victoria’s nose.
Luckily Victoria didn’t seem to notice as she breezed past Lily into the hall without a word, sauntered to the end of the corridor before she turned back and said, ‘Belinda, are you coming?’
Lily smiled. ‘Right away, Madam.’
‘I saw you from the window,’ Victoria explained outside, as she set herself down on the ground with little of the grace with which she had left her room. ‘I must admit, I wondered at all the activity the other day, so I’ve been keeping an eye on things. I can’t believe you had all this cut because of me.’
‘I was thinking of putting a few picnic benches in,’ Lily said. ‘There are a couple at the front that the council put in, but this would make a lovely rest spot along the cycle path, I think. If Uncle Gus agrees, we could also put some play equipment up. You know, for kids.’
‘Well, I don’t think I’ll be crossing the monkey bars any time soon,’ Victoria said, looking around with nervousness. ‘Is it really necessary to encourage people to come here?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Not much would happen until next year, what with winter on the way. But I was thinking about where to go in my life—’
‘Let’s talk about the story, dear. Real life scares me.’
Lily rubbed her hands together, then hooked a corner of blanket over her knees. They were sitting in a nice patch of sunlight but the day had taken on that familiar crisp autumn chill, one which reminded Lily of school day evenings, walking home from Mary’s house on the other side of the village, hurrying to be home before dark, always jogging, head down as she passed the graveyard behind the church as leaves from the beech trees fluttered across the road and chestnuts fallen from the huge tree on the corner crunched underfoot. She had always taken a moment to pick up any decent sized ones she found, putting them on top of the old stone wall by the church gate, for any boys from the primary school still into playing conkers, all the while avoiding looking across into the graveyard. At the time, balancing a desire to be helpful while not giving in to her fear had been a traumatic ordeal, but through the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia it had become a fondly cherished memory.
‘Are you thinking about it?’ Victoria asked, leaning forward to peer into Lily’s line of sight. ‘The secret?’
Lily, realising she had been gazing off into the distance, gave her head a little shake and then smiled again. ‘Maybe. But I can’t tell you right away.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Because then it wouldn’t be a secret. And a secret can’t be revealed until the end, can it?’
Victoria just rolled her eyes and chuckled. ‘You’d drive my editor up the wall,’ she said. ‘She wants to know every twist, every secret, every confrontation up front.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, she did….’
‘Do you … hear much from her?’ Lily asked.
Victoria frowned, and for a moment Lily thought she might open up with something profound. Then she gave a sigh and said, ‘So. The story?’
‘The girl wants to help the writer come back into the world, so she gradually draws her out of the place she’s hiding away in.’
