The Perfect Retreat (27 page)

Merritt didn’t say anything. She was right, she had neglected her care, but then so had Willow and so had he and Kerr. They were all wrapped up in their own dramas, and it was the children who had suffered the most.

‘So what do you want to do?’ he asked as he poured her a cup of tea. Kitty stirred some sugar in.

She sat and sipped the sweet liquid, and then she looked at Merritt. ‘I want my inheritance, and I want to go to London to learn how to read,’ she said.

Merritt raised his chipped willow-patterned mug to her. ‘Then off to London it is,’ he said.

‘What about you and Willow?’ asked Kitty, emerging from her own personal crisis.

‘Willow? Oh she’s long gone,’ said Merritt, almost
cheerfully
.

‘Aren’t you sad?’ asked Kitty, her face clouded with worry.

‘Oh no. I don’t think we were meant to be long term; just a bit of fun, that’s how those actors like to play it,’ said Merritt as he crossed his long legs. ‘I’m sure she’s had lots of lovers since her dickhead husband left her.’

Kitty shook her head violently. ‘No Merritt, she hasn’t. I’ve lived with her since before Jinty was born. You have no idea how lonely she is. Did you know Kerr told her to get an abortion with Jinty? I was her birth coach – he didn’t even come to the hospital.’

Merritt looked at his cup as she spoke, thinking about Willow. There was no doubt she had had a tough time, but that didn’t entitle her to be abusive to the girl who had raised her children for the last two years.

‘Merritt, don’t be too hard on her,’ said Kitty softly. ‘I would have fired me today too; she just did it badly, that’s all.’

Merritt smiled at her. ‘Of course you’re right, Kits; but what do I want with three kids and a mad-as-a-snake actress in a country home?’ he scoffed.

Kitty looked at him closely and took his hand. ‘I’m not blind, Merritt. I know how you feel about her.’

Merritt took his hand away. ‘And now she’s gone. She was telling the truth about Kerr, and I punished her, and then she punished you because of me. It’s all a massive cock-up, eh Kits?’

Kitty put her head on the table and groaned.

‘Is Ivo coming back here?’ he asked her as he cleared the cups from the table.

‘No, we’re over too,’ said Kitty.

‘Because he stood up for you to Willow?’ asked Merritt.

‘Because he promised he would never tell and he did. He made people feel sorry for me, and that’s the last thing I wanted.’

‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?’ asked Merritt.

‘No harsher than you,’ answered Kitty, and she stood up. ‘I’m going to head back to London tomorrow.’

‘I’ll drive you,’ said Merritt.

‘No, I’ll take the train,’ she said. ‘Gives me time to read.’ She slapped her hand on her leg as though she’d just made the funniest joke in the world.

Merritt laughed in spite of her terrible joke. ‘At least you can laugh,’ he said as he switched off the light in the kitchen.

‘God knows I’m sick of crying,’ she said in the darkness.

Willow stood in the modest London townhouse and looked at the freshly painted walls. The parquet floors were clean,
it had a small garden and four bedrooms. It would do, and it
was all she could afford.

Her money from the film and from the Blessings cosmetics contract was just enough for the down payment. The bank had been kind enough to oversee her precarious financial position as long as she committed to working more. She had a budget for the first time in her life, drawn up with the lovely young bank manager whom she had flirted with, just a little. Her accountant had overseen the transactions and now she had a home. Living with the children at the Dorchester had been hard, and she was sure they had worn their welcome a little thinly.

The new nanny, Sally from Australia, was fine. Not as gentle as Kitty, but the children seemed to like her. Poppy asked continually where Kitty was and Willow found it hard not to get cross with her asking, but mostly she felt sick about her treatment of the poor girl. How did she get through life without reading? She had left the odd note for her before; maybe she got the cleaners to read them, she thought.

The doorbell rang and she went to answer it, knowing it would be the first of her scant possessions arriving. She had sent for her things to be delivered from Middlemist, but there had been no word from Merritt. He had made himself clear, she thought sadly.

‘In here,’ she said to the moving men who carried the boxes, carefully marked by the packers, and they placed them down, one after another. And then she was alone again. The beds were set up.

The new couch from The Conran Shop was in the sitting room but she had no kitchen items, no linen, nothing. She sat on the couch, still covered in thin plastic, and cried. How did she get here? she was wondering, when the doorbell rang again.

Wiping her eyes, she went to answer it and saw it was Lucy holding a box, with another at her feet.

‘Hello,’ said Lucy, smiling.

‘Hi,’ said Willow dejectedly.

‘Moving is awful,’ commiserated Lucy.

‘I know. Come in,’ said Willow.

Willow picked up the box from the ground and led Lucy into the kitchen.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, nodding her head towards the box as she placed it on the countertop.

‘A little housewarming gift,’ said Lucy.

Willow opened the box and saw six small terracotta pots with herbs in them and pretty tin plant tags with the names of the herbs stamped on them.

‘Oh how lovely,’ said Willow, taking them out and putting them on the window sill.

‘I have a list of potential magazine interviews for you to go through with me,’ said Lucy.

‘Do any of them pay?’ Willow asked, only half joking as she rubbed a mint leaf between her fingers, the pungent smell filling the kitchen.

‘Well, no. I stayed away from those ones. We need publicity, not charity. I want to spread the word that you are back and as fabulous as ever,’ said Lucy, as she opened her bag and pulled out her notebook. ‘
Harper’s Bazaar
and
Tatler
are both interested; I think I can get you the cover of one of them,’ she said, looking at her neat handwriting. ‘Also good news. I wanted to tell you this in person. Devon and Squires, the jewellery house, are looking for a new spokesperson. Are you interested?’

‘What would I have to do?’ asked Willow nervously. It had been a long time since she was the spokesperson for anyone – even herself.

‘Print interviews and wear their jewels exclusively for red carpet events; be alluring and fascinating,’ said Lucy checking her notes again. ‘It’s worth two hundred thousand pounds over two years. I can get you the first year upfront.’ She raised an eyebrow at Willow.

‘You are amazing,’ she said, and she hugged Lucy. ‘Do it, say yes.’ Willow smiled at Lucy, who was fast proving to be her guardian angel.

‘You have to meet with the CEO, Richard Devon, first. He’s the grandson; just taken over the business,’ said Lucy. ‘He’s a bit of a player from what I hear. Dated lots of gorgeous women; tried to lure Liz Hurley from Shane, but no luck.’

Willow nodded. ‘I can be fascinating,’ she said, looking down at her jeans and her worn American Vintage t-shirt. ‘Not sure about alluring.’

‘I know you can. Just lose the flip-flops, I suggest,’ said Lucy, pointing to Willow’s feet.

‘These? These are the height of fashion,’ laughed Willow.

‘So, I’ll set up a meeting?’ asked Lucy, opening her diary.

‘Yep,’ said Willow firmly. She had to earn money, and wearing jewellery wasn’t that hard a task, she thought.

‘Where are the kids?’ asked Lucy, noticing the silence.

‘Out with the nanny,’ said Willow tiredly.

‘What’s happening with Kerr? If you don’t mind me asking,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m being hassled by the press, so what’s the
unofficial
status so I can work out the official status?’

‘We have to meet with an independent psychologist and have an assessment to see that Kerr and Eliza are fit parents. Then pending that report, we have mediation next week with a judge. If we can’t work it out then we have to go to court and I really don’t want that to happen.’ Willow looked dejected and Lucy nodded understandingly and then paused.

‘I have to ask, and I’m sorry to bring it up, but was what you said about the Oscar true?’

Willow folded and refolded the tea towel. ‘I’m afraid it is. I’m sorry; I’m a bit of a fake really,’ she said quietly.

Lucy shrugged, ‘I don’t care, but the Oscar does give you currency in the celebrity world. You don’t think Kerr will release it to the media? To Eliza?’

Willow sighed. The confession at Middlemist was all she could think about. She wondered what Merritt thought of her now.

‘I don’t really care about it, to be honest with you. The Academy won’t be happy and they will, of course, deny everything. It’s not in their interest to let this out.’

Lucy nodded again. ‘Then let sleeping dogs lie,’ she said and as if by magic, George the puppy tottered into the room from his basket near the back steps.

‘Hello George,’ said Lucy, reaching down and patting the wiggling puppy.

Willow looked at the little dog fondly.

‘Kids still love him?’ asked Lucy, although she knew the answer.

‘They adore him; he’s just what we all needed,’ said Willow, trying to push Merritt out of her mind.

‘No word from Kitty or Merritt?’ asked Lucy, standing up.

Merritt had sent George down with the last of Willow’s possessions, along with a charming note written to the children as George.

Willow had read it over and over, trying to find a clue or a message, but she couldn’t see anything other than kindness towards her children, which in many ways made everything feel worse.

Willow shook her head. ‘I’ve fucked that one up royally,’ she said sadly.

‘Things have a way of working out,’ Lucy said kindly.

Willow nodded, hoping she was right.

‘So I’ll leave you to unpack, unless you need a hand?’ asked Lucy.

‘No, I’ll be fine, we haven’t got much,’ said Willow, looking around.

‘Let me know how you go with things and I’ll set up some interviews and that meeting with Richard Devon, OK?’

‘Thanks Lucy, I am so grateful for your help,’ said Willow as she waved goodbye from her new front step, determined to treat Lucy the way she deserved. If she had learned anything from life at Middlemist, it was to never take those you love for granted.

Ivo headed up the driveway towards Middlemist and felt sick with nerves. No girl had ever made him feel like this. He was unsure what to say to Kitty.

He had promised her he wouldn’t tell her secret but he had; he had announced it in front of the worst possible people. He hoped – no, he had actually prayed – she would forgive him.

The house was silent when he arrived. No doubt Willow had run off with the children after the dressing-down that Merritt had given her, he thought.

The film crew had left and there was no sign of Merritt. He rang the bell by the front door and waited. No one answered. He walked around to the back of the house and saw a lone figure in the distance; Merritt, he thought; and he walked towards the man with the spade and wheelbarrow, his usual accoutrements.

‘Hey there,’ he said.

‘Hey yourself,’ said Merritt, and he continued to dig the soil over. He had worked so hard in the last week since Willow had left. Every time he plunged the spade into the earth, he felt as though it was digging into his heart.

‘Kitty around?’ asked Ivo casually, as though nothing was riding on her being there.

‘Nope,’ said Merritt.

‘Will she be back?’ asked Ivo again, trying unsuccessfully to keep the disappointment from his voice.

‘Nope,’ said Merritt again.

Ivo sat on the stone seat dejectedly. ‘Shit,’ he said.

‘Yes, it’s all a bit shit,’ said Merritt, stopping his work to look at Ivo. He was clearly devastated that Kitty had gone.

‘I was made to promise I wouldn’t tell you where she was,’ said Merritt with a shrug. ‘Sorry.’

Ivo nodded. At least one of the men in Kitty’s life could keep promises, he thought.

‘You heading back to London?’ asked Merritt.

‘I guess, although I don’t have much to go back to,’ said Ivo, thinking aloud.

He had no solid work lined up. He had managed to get an agent from the film but the offers weren’t exactly pouring in; no one knew he existed yet. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to act; it all seemed a bit silly, he had decided.

Henry had told him in no uncertain terms that his tenure as houseguest was up, and there was no rich girl on the horizon for him to shack up with. The only girl he wanted to be with was Kitty, and she had disappeared.

Merritt looked at Ivo. He felt sorry for him. ‘You can stay here for a while I guess. I could use the company.’

He was surprised at himself for being so honest. It was lonely in the house without everyone around him. He had become used to the sound of the children and talking to Willow at night and chatting with Kitty over a pot of tea in the morning.

Ivo looked up. ‘Really?’

‘Why not?’ said Merritt, going back to his task of digging the same area of soil, over and over again.

Ivo reached into his jacket pocket. ‘I have Clementina’s journals. Kitty lent them to me,’ he said, holding them in his hand.

Merritt looked over. ‘Ah yes. There are letters too, but I haven’t gone through them yet,’ he said.

Ivo looked up. ‘She mentioned that there were also some letters. Would you mind if I had a look at them? The journals are fascinating, and I would love to piece them together with the letters.’

‘Go for it,’ said Merritt. ‘They are in the drawing room, I think, near the computer.’

Ivo jumped up. ‘I’ll head back to town and get my things then. Do you think Kitty would mind me being here after everything that happened?’ he asked carefully.

Merritt looked over at him. ‘I understand why you did it. I would have done the same thing. Willow’s behaviour was appalling. Kitty will understand one day,’ he said, a frown on his face.