The thumping hangover that greeted Lily the next morning at first was enough to make her forget about the mysterious message. Then, as she sat eating breakfast with her dad—her mum having long before headed out to the shop—she opened up her laptop for a casual browse and remembered.
Michael Borton … Victoria’s son. She had found the little boy in the photograph. But what to do now?
‘Any job offers?’ Pete asked.
Lily smiled. ‘None yet.’
‘Well, you’d better get a move on or you’ll be late,’ Pete said, finishing his cornflakes and standing up.
‘I’m just on my way,’ Lily said, peering at the screen.
‘Has Steve got in touch again?’
Lily shook her head. ‘No, someone far more interesting.’
Pete chuckled. ‘Well, good luck with it. Hotdog Pete is out of here.’ Lily cringed, but Pete laughed again. ‘See you later, sweetheart. Have a good day.’
It took a couple of paracetamol to improve things, but Lily was feeling a lot better by the time she got to the guesthouse, just in time to start making breakfast for the guests. Luckily, the large group had departed, and only a pair of couples remained. Even so, the smell of the eggs and bacon made Lily feel a little queasy. By the time she headed out with Victoria’s breakfast, she couldn’t bear to be inside.
The bike ride didn’t help, but it was a fine day with a few wisps of cloud in the sky. Lily parked her bike outside the annexe, but just as she was about to go inside, she had an idea.
How long had it been since Victoria had been outside?
Thinking quickly, Lily went around to the annexe’s rear, to the patch of grass crying out to be turned into a picnic area and playground. The picnic tables around the front were too heavy to move on her own, so she went inside, rooting around on the bottom floor until she found a store cupboard with a fold-out table and a couple of deckchairs inside. Then, taking them around the back, she set them up on the grass underneath Victoria’s window.
Setting the hamper down, she went upstairs. The DO NOT DISTURB sign had gone. Lily gave a light knock, and a moment later the door swung open.
Victoria looked almost normal in jeans and a thick grey roll-neck sweater. Only the pink sunglasses propped up in her hair were out of place.
‘Ah, good morning,’ Lily said.
‘Penelope, there you are. You’re five minutes late, but we won’t worry about that.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve pulled a muscle in my shoulder,’ Lily said, not bothering to correct Victoria, but instead giving her shoulder a dramatic rub and wincing to add effect. ‘I couldn’t bring the hamper up the stairs this morning, but it’s a lovely day, so I’ve set you up a table outside.’
Victoria’s face dropped. She stared at Lily as though she’d just been told her dog had died.
‘What?’
‘It’s … ah … outside.’
‘Outside?’
‘Yes. Outside.’
‘I can’t go outside.’ Victoria frowned. ‘I don’t … know the way.’
Her voice had taken on such a childlike fragility that Lily suddenly felt sorry for her. By all accounts the millions she had made from her books and the movie version of A Trainspotter’s Guide to Romance couldn’t help her with one simple thing: overcoming her social anxiety.
Lily put out a hand. ‘I can help you,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no one around.’
Victoria frowned again. For a moment Lily thought she was going to step back inside and slam the door. Then, she reached out a tentative hand and put it on Lily’s shoulder.
‘I haven’t been outside in … years,’ she said.
‘It hasn’t changed much,’ Lily said. ‘Well, the grass is a bit longer. I keep telling Uncle Gus to come up and cut it.’
‘Well, not to worry. Perhaps he could consider getting a goat or something.’
‘I’ll mention it when I go back.’
Victoria was still leaning on Lily’s shoulder, looking uncomfortable. ‘Am I hurting you, dear? You said you’d pulled a muscle.’
‘Ah … other shoulder.’
‘Right.’
‘You’re going to need shoes.’
‘Oh. Of course.’
Victoria reached a foot behind the half-open door and pushed a pair of slip-on shoes into view. The accumulation of dust on their upper surface broke Lily’s heart. She watched as Victoria slid them on, dust bunnies falling away.
‘Oh, they barely fit anymore.’
‘It’s only a short way.’
‘Right.’
‘Are you ready?’
Victoria took a deep breath and gave a slow nod. ‘Yes.’
Lily stepped backwards. Victoria, still leaning on her, had no choice but to step forward into the corridor. Pausing after each step at first, Lily helped her along the corridor to the stairs, where Victoria paused again, her breath coming faster.
‘I’m not sure I can do it,’ she said. ‘It’s so dark.’
‘That’s only because the light bulb’s blown,’ Lily said. ‘Something else I’ll mention to Uncle Gus when I get back.’
She went first, holding on to Victoria’s arm, leading her slowly down. She felt like a nurse in a care home, bringing an elderly patient down to meet their family, even though Victoria’s ailments were purely psychological. Even so, as Victoria’s movements began to get smoother—even briefly letting go of Lily to take hold of the narrow staircase’s banister—Lily sensed Victoria’s reclusiveness was more a reluctance to go outside and case of habit rather than any genuine psychological disorder. Once they were down the stairs and into the common area, Victoria began to take more interest in her surroundings than in where she put her feet.
‘Oh, is that how it used to look? I remember that little train. I used to take Michael up to Exeter to look around the shops. The view was quite delightful….’
As they reached the back door, Lily let out a little gasp. Immediately Victoria tensed, but Lily grabbed hold of her arm before she could think to flee.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, staring at the table outside, the hamper sat on top. ‘That little sod….’
A squirrel was fussing around on top of the hamper, making occasional attempts to find a way inside. Lily stared as it nibbled at the wicker, then tried to lift the lid, getting one paw inside before it slipped shut again.
‘I’ll shoo it off,’ she said, starting to move forward, but it was Victoria this time who grabbed her arm.
‘No, don’t. He’s so … pretty.’
They watched for a couple of minutes as the little squirrel continued his explorations. Then, suddenly figuring it out, he pushed his nose into the gap between the lid and the basket, and disappeared inside.
‘Okay, now you can stop him,’ Victoria said, squeezing Lily’s shoulder.
Lily darted forward, flapping her hands at the squirrel, which reappeared from the hamper and scampered down off the table, running to the safety of a nearby tree. Lily lifted the lid, and to her relief, found the cling film covering the food remained intact. She looked up to beckon Victoria outside, but at the sight of the empty doorway, her heart dropped.
Victoria was gone.
Lily dropped the hamper lid, gave the tree with its hiding squirrel a warning glare, then dashed back to the annexe’s rear door and went inside.
‘Victoria? Victoria!’
‘Oh, Penelope, I’m right here.’
Lily jumped. Rather than retreating back upstairs as Lily had expected, Victoria had moved closer to the wall and was standing on tiptoes as she looked at a large framed photograph of the station building in the nineteen sixties.
‘It’s changed so much, hasn’t it?’ Victoria said. ‘I mean … look at all those people. And the thrill of the train coming into the station … you know, that’s what I always loved about train stations. That sense of adventure, of motion. And all those people, every one of them a character study. It’s not the same now, is it?’
Lily smiled. ‘But when you think about it, the best bits are still here. The platform and the station building, even the line where the tracks went. And the view, the nature.’
‘You’re a very pure girl, aren’t you?’
Lily wrinkled her nose. She considered herself a lot of things, but the idea of being pure had never crossed her mind.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes. And pure girls are wonderful, don’t you think? A blank canvas, waiting for the world to write down their story. What’s the secret, dear? Do you know?’
Lily frowned, thinking about the message from Michael. She hadn’t yet replied, but planned to do so after she had cleared up the breakfast things.
‘The writer in the story … she’s estranged from her son. I haven’t decided quite how yet. But the girl … she decides to help the writer out by reuniting them. Only, there’s a twist….’
‘That’s a nice idea, but what’s the twist, dear?’
Lily smiled. ‘The son, when he arrives, he’s really good-looking, and the girl … she falls in love with him.’
‘That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?’
Lily shrugged. ‘I’d read it.’
‘And you’re not much of a reader … hmm … we could be on to something. Well, that’s nice, but it’s not really a secret. It’s a conflicting device. We need a secret, some big reveal.’
Lily shook her head. ‘I don’t know. You’re the writer, you tell me.’
Victoria sighed. ‘That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t get my brain to work like it used to. It’s plagued me for years. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Well, I certainly know what you could do next.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Come outside and eat your breakfast before that pesky squirrel comes back.’