The Perfect Retreat (14 page)

Walking over to his phone on the table on deck he picked it up and saw he had thirteen missed calls and eight new messages. He ignored them and rang his lawyer, who took his call immediately.

‘You’re alive,’ came the voice down the phone.

‘Yes, I’ve just been having some time out,’ said Kerr. ‘Rethinking my options.’

‘Willow is desperate to get a hold of you, as is your manager,’ said the lawyer.

‘Tell me, if Willow and I are split up then does she have to share with me what she earns still?’

‘Not really. The kids are with her full time aren’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘If you have the kids then yes, but otherwise no.’

Kerr waited for a moment and then looked at Tatiana. He knew she was tiring of him. It was time to get his life back on track: music and money, that was what he wanted, and Willow held the key to both of them.

‘I think it’s time I came back to London,’ said Kerr.

‘High time,’ said his lawyer. ‘Call me when you get here. There are a few things we have to discuss. Actually many things.’

Kerr hung up the phone and turned to Tatiana. ‘I have to go home,’ he said.

She didn’t bother to turn around. ‘OK.’

Kerr waited. ‘Can I use your jet?’

Now Tatiana rolled onto her back and sat up. ‘What’s in it for me, darlink?’ she asked slowly.

‘I could fuck you,’ he offered.

She shrugged. ‘Boring. What else?’

‘I could write you a song?’ he offered again. He was tired of her games and bullshit. He just wanted to be back in England with a pint in his hand and a full bank balance.

‘Maybe, but first I want to be an actor. I want to meet your wife. Maybe she can help me.’

Kerr looked at her, shocked. She couldn’t be serious? There was no way Willow would ever entertain this woman, whose nipples he had been seen sucking in pictures all over the world.

‘Umm, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ he stammered.

‘Then no jet,’ she said and she rolled onto her stomach again.

Kerr picked up his phone, dialled his phone banking number and keyed in the details. He would check his bank balance and then make his own way home. He had hidden this credit card from Willow, and it was strictly only to be used in an emergency. He considered being held hostage off the coast of Sicily as an emergency, and he waited while the automated voice gave his balance over the phone.

‘You have one hundred and eleven pounds available,’ the automated voice stated.

That can’t be right, he thought, and he pressed the button to hear it again. ‘You have one hundred and eleven pounds available,’ said the voice again. ‘To hear the last six
transactions
press two.’

Kerr pressed two, his hands shaking. There had been twelve thousand pounds on this card. ‘Last six transactions. Monday the twelfth of June – The Apple Store – two thousand and twenty-one pounds. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Net-A-Porter – three thousand one hundred and two pounds. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Ralph Lauren – one thousand and seven pounds, twelve pence. Tuesday the thirteenth of June – Whole Life Foods – five hundred and forty-two pounds, eighty-two pence. Wednesday the fourteenth of June – Harrods – two hundred and twelve pounds, eleven pence. Thursday the fifteenth of June – Harrods – eight hundred and fourteen pounds, ninety-nine pence.’

Kerr hung up, rage pouring from him. Fucking Willow had his card details. Well she could go fuck herself. She was going to teach his girlfriend how to act and he was going to claim half of her wage; maybe even more if he got the kids.

Looking over to Tatiana, he said, ‘Fuel the jet babe. I’m taking you to London to visit the Queen.’

‘Really?’ she asked, sitting up again. Perhaps she had misjudged Kerr.

‘Not the real Queen, but I’m going to make you an actress. I spoke to Willow – she can’t wait to meet you,’ he said, and Tatiana clapped her hands and opened her legs.

‘Then come and get your ticket to ride,’ she purred and Kerr smiled at her open legs.

God knows Willow wasn’t much in the sack, he thought as he moved towards Tatiana.

As he swapped positions with Tatiana and lay on the sun lounger, she jumped on top of his cock and rocked back and forth until she felt herself beginning to come.

‘And the Oscar goes to Tatiana Rusellov!’ she cried as she came, and Kerr watched her with bemusement. What the hell, if Willow could win one then there was no reason Tatiana couldn’t either, he thought as he felt himself beginning to finish, and he grabbed her face as he came.

‘You know it baby,’ he said, and the two of them smiled at each other, each absorbed with their own satisfaction and their own sets of plans.

Willow and Ivo glanced at each other over the table.

She thought she knew him and sat racking her brains until she remembered. Yes, he was that boy Dicky Henley Smyth and his wife Tricky had brought to her cocktail party in London a few years before. Rumour had it that Dicky and Tricky were both in love with the boy, but Willow noticed the way he was eyeing Harold’s assistant’s ass as she bent down to adjust the legs of one of the tables, and assumed he must have been fucking Tricky, not Dicky.

The boy was pure testosterone, and Willow raised her eyebrows at him when he caught her eye to reprimand his ogling. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘What can I do when faced with a wondrous ass like that?’

Willow made a face at him across the table, similar to the one she would have given Poppy had she been sprung doing something naughty, and Ivo poked his tongue out at her playfully. Willow suddenly felt old. There was a time when this young boy would have been making a play for her; now he was checking out the crew. Never a great sign, she thought, and she wondered when she had gone from ingénue to old crone.

Willow felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and pulling it out she saw Lucy’s number come up.

‘Hey,’ said Willow.

‘Hello! I have good news,’ sang Lucy’s voice down the phone.

‘Great, I could do with some,’ said Willow softly, getting up from the table and leaving the ballroom to step outside on the terrace.

‘I’ve had a call from Blessings’ rep, and they want you to be the face of their next campaign.’

‘Really? Oh my god!’ cried Willow. She had forgotten what it was like to be wanted and chased after for work. It felt good.

‘Yes, they saw you in
Hello!
and Kelly was adamant that you needed this gig. Their last face was Sapphira De Mont, who did really well for them, but she’s having a baby and doesn’t want to work for a while. It’s yours if you want it.’

Willow did a little dance on the empty terrace. ‘Tell them yes, yes!’ she cried and Lucy laughed down the phone.

‘Alright, I will, and I’ll get back to you with the details.’

‘Lucy, you are a star,’ said Willow gratefully down the phone.

‘No, you’re the star. I just hold the spotlight,’ said Lucy, doing her best Eliza impression, and she and Willow howled with laughter.

Willow put down the phone. Things were looking up finally. Blessings were the fastest-moving makeup line in the marketplace, created by makeup artist to the stars, Kelly Ryder. Kelly was the coolest person in the business and Willow had worked with her once before on a shoot for
Vanity Fair
. Then she had moved to London with Kerr and lost all contact with Kelly and Hollywood.

Willow looked back at the people at the table reading. They were still awaiting Harold’s arrival; people were milling about and drinking coffee and getting to know each other. It felt good to be a part of something again, and Willow felt happy for the first time in a very long time. She felt tears run down her cheeks. Walking down the steps onto the lawn, which was thankfully empty of crew, Willow sat on a stone bench and wept openly.

‘Are you alright?’ she heard a voice say, and she looked up and saw a figure looming over her. She rubbed her eyes and they adjusted to the light, and she saw Merritt standing in front of her.

He sat down on the cold bench next to her. ‘Anything you want to share?’ he asked, concerned.

‘No, I’m happy,’ she said, smiling.

‘I never quite get Americans and their emotions,’ he said drily and Willow laughed.

They sat in companionable silence for a while and then she spoke. ‘You see, I have been unhappy for a long time. Over two years, I think, and I got used to living with it. Every day blurred into another day, and I did things to try and push the feelings away, and I thought that I would never know happiness again. And now, right now, I’m happy. And it feels fucking fantastic,’ she said, looking into the distance, her hands clutching either side of the bench.

Merritt looked into the middle distance with her, not focusing on anything.

‘Are you happy because you’re working again?’ he asked.

‘I’m happy because I’m working, I’m making a difference to my children, I’m happy to be a part of something again and I’m happy to be here with …’ Willow’s voice cracked a little and she stopped.

Merritt sat still, desperate for her to continue, but she said nothing.

‘I’m happy you’re happy, and I’m happy you’re here,’ he said, his voice low with a touch of nervousness. He hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t brush him off; he hoped he hadn’t imagined the way he thought she looked at him. He waited, as though for the executioner’s axe, and Willow said nothing; but he felt her hand touch his on the bench and he held it, thin and cold, in his warm soft paw, and the thrill of the touch brought butterflies to Willow’s stomach.

They sat together holding hands and looked across the lawns at the dancing butterflies and the birds that came and went, until Willow heard a voice calling her name. Looking up she saw the young boy from the table reading who ogled asses looking over the edge of the terrace.

‘Oi, they’re calling you. We’re ready,’ he said, noticing the hands being held, and catching her eye he gave her the exact same look that she had given him earlier. She poked her tongue out at him as he had done and he laughed and turned inside again.

‘I have to go and work,’ she whispered.

‘Off you go then. I’ll meet you after work, OK?’ he asked, and Willow nodded and blushed.

‘Bye,’ she said swiftly and kissed his cheek.

They faced each other and then Merritt smiled and leant down and kissed her gently on the mouth. His soft lips met hers and she parted them slightly and felt the tiniest flicker of tongue in her mouth. Then he pulled away and she stood, her knees weak. ‘If I continue I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,’ he said huskily.

‘Don’t stop,’ said Willow, pushing herself against him.

‘I have to stop. You need to go to work and I need a cold shower,’ he laughed.

Willow let herself go. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him with the passion of a woman who hasn’t had sex in a long time and is feeling desires that she didn’t know existed in her, and Merritt responded the same way. As they parted breathlessly, she smiled sexily at him.

‘Wait for me?’ she asked as she ran up the stairs.

‘Always,’ he said, and after she left he sat down on the stone bench again and wondered if he had just dreamed the interlude with Willow. But his tender mouth told him otherwise, and he laughed out loud. He too had forgotten what happiness felt like. It felt good.

As Willow went in for the table reading, she sat down and accepted the water bottle that was handed to her and then looked up to see Ivo looking at her with an amused
expression
. ‘What?’ she mouthed at him.

‘Nothing,’ he replied, and winked at her.

Willow blushed, remembering Merritt’s kiss and her passionate response. Her thoughts were interrupted by Harold’s arrival in a black astrakhan cloak, even though it was midsummer.

‘Good afternoon,’ he announced regally as he walked towards the end of the table and waited for Jenny, his assistant, to pull out his chair for him. Ivo wondered if he should stand – it was as though the Queen had entered the room – but he looked around and saw that people seemed quite relaxed. Only he seemed anxious, he realised,
recognising
several famous faces from British films. They seemed chummy and Ivo felt sick with nerves. As soon as we start to read they’ll know I’m an imposter, he thought as he sat down and leafed through his script, trying to look like one of them.

Harold sat down and opened his script.

‘I shan’t bother with the introductions. I am sure you will all meet each other at the ball tomorrow. Please be aware that I will be filming part of it for the flashback scenes, so please try to be on your best behaviour and in character for at least the first part of the evening.’

The room laughed and Ivo looked around. What ball? he wondered, and he opened up his pack and found a stiff envelope containing a piece of card inscribed with black copperplate handwriting asking him to the ball tomorrow night. All costumes provided.

‘Right then. Shall we start?’ asked Harold.

Ivo was pleasantly surprised that no one looked at him like he was a hack and he even got a few compliments during the break, mostly from women, but an older man whom Ivo had watched as a child on his favourite show, a stalwart of British film, television and theatre, spoke to him too.

‘Well done young man,’ he said to Ivo over an orange cake on the catering table.

‘Thanks,’ said Ivo gratefully. ‘It’s all a bit nerve racking.’

‘Oh no my dear. Just keep on doing it and you will find it comes more and more naturally,’ said the older man. ‘Thornton Wills,’ he said, extending his hand.

‘Ivo Casselton.’

Thornton eyed Ivo. ‘Is Peregrine Casselton your father?’

Ivo paused. ‘He is.’

‘Ah, I went to Harrow with Perry. He was quite the actor too. I was always surprised that he never trod the boards,’ said Thornton as he poured tea for himself and for Ivo.

‘Really?’ asked Ivo, intrigued. His father had been so against him acting, wanting him to take over the family estate instead, but Ivo couldn’t imagine living in the country away from friends, women, drugs. Ivo tucked the information away at the back of his mind, unsure what to do with it but knowing it was important.