The Perfect Retreat (19 page)

Willow filmed most days. Ivo was always on set too, and he was polite and witty and professional and he made a point of seeking out Kitty when he could. Poppy was instantly in love with him – as most girls probably were, thought Kitty. He and Willow had settled into a jokey relationship and even Merritt tolerated him, although he wasn’t really Merritt’s type of man.

Kitty found herself fascinated to see the new sides of her brother and her employer emerge. His tenderness; her
kindness
. The selfish side of Willow that she knew in London had all but gone, and she would watch as Willow carried a tray into the drawing room, with mugs of tea and some exotic organic biscuits from Harrods on a plate.

It was odd to be served by your boss, thought Kitty, but her and Willow’s relationship had shifted and there was a seed of equality sprouting between them. Willow suddenly cared about what Kitty thought, and Kitty was unsure about the new dynamic.

Kitty watched Merritt and Willow walking around the garden away from the set, Willow in full costume and the children gambolling behind them, Jinty in Merritt’s arms. It was so perfect that Kitty felt tears prick her eyes.

‘Hello Kitten,’ she heard, and she turned to see Ivo in costume, standing in the kitchen.

‘Oh hi,’ said Kitty flatly.

‘How’re things?’ he asked.

‘OK,’ said Kitty.

‘What you doing tomorrow?’ asked Ivo.

‘Not much, why?’ she asked, crossing her arms to cover herself, although she wasn’t sure why.

‘I have discovered something I thought you might like,’ he said.

‘Oh.’

‘Can I show you tomorrow?’ asked Ivo, uncertainty in his voice.

‘I guess so,’ said Kitty, shrugging. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ said Ivo. ‘Be ready at nine o’clock.’ He disappeared again and Kitty wondered what she had got herself into.

Merritt and Willow waved at her through the window and she waved back rather forlornly.

‘Is she OK?’ asked Willow to Merritt.

‘I think so,’ said Merritt, glancing back over his shoulder to look at her through the window, but she had gone.

‘She seems a little lost lately,’ said Willow.

‘It must be odd for her; us and so forth,’ said Merritt, suddenly unsure about what the ‘so forth’ was. Was this a relationship? he wondered.

Willow was silent. What did he mean, ‘so forth’? she wondered. Her dress became caught on a lavender bush and Merritt stopped and pulled it away. ‘You right now?’ he asked, and Willow smiled at him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and they kept walking.

‘What’s this garden for?’

‘This is the Lady’s Garden, as it was known. A garden for picking flowers. It was once filled with roses and lavenders, dahlias, anything that looked good in a vase.’

Willow looked around the garden, now stripped of any blooms. ‘It must have been lovely.’

Merritt looked at her in her full skirt – a tea dress, she had called it – and smiled. ‘Yes. Lovely.’

She looked at him and turned her head to one side quizzically.

‘I mean it will be lovely, when it’s done.’ He fumbled as he spoke and his words fell out in a rush.

Willow smiled at him. ‘You’re lovely also, Merritt,’ she said, and when they walked back to the house, she felt his hand take hers. She left it there, not caring who saw them.

As they rounded the corner onto the driveway, Lucian and Poppy following and Jinty now asleep on Merritt’s shoulder, Jenny, Harold’s assistant, came to them. ‘Do you have a minute? Harold wants to see you both,’ she said.

Willow looked at Merritt, who shrugged his ignorance as to why Harold would want an audience with him.

‘I’ll pop Jinty down and set the little ones up with the electronic babysitter. I’ll be down in a minute.’

Jenny and Willow watched him go inside, children trailing behind him like he was the Pied Piper. ‘He’s good with the kids,’ said Jenny.

‘He is,’ said Willow.

Merritt had taken to the children with the same passion he had taken to her. He was patient and selfless, entertaining and firm. He was more of a father than Kerr had ever been, and it dawned on Willow that she was not the only one in this. Her children were in deep also. Lucian, who had shown more affection to Merritt than anyone, Poppy, who stopped all her rubbish with one look from him, and Jinty, who reached for him each morning.

Willow felt clammy and scared. What if he didn’t want her and the children forever? She started to panic. She thought it was sex she wanted, but now she had more she was
terrified
of losing it. And Merritt was not the sort to stay around – Kitty had told her he always travelled. She was sure he didn’t want to be saddled with three kids and a broke woman.

Willow wiped her hands on her dress.

‘You OK?’ asked Jenny. Small beads of sweat appeared on Willow’s brow.

‘Fine; it’s just the corset,’ lied Willow.

‘Right, well if the Great Oz commands us, we must see what he desires,’ said Merritt, emerging from the house. ‘The bigger two are watching some show with a talking vacuum cleaner and Jinty is asleep. Shall we go?’ he asked, and he took Willow’s arm as they walked to Harold’s trailer.

Jenny knocked and poked her head around the door. ‘Willow and Merritt are here, Harold,’ she said.

‘Send them in,’ said Harold, and Willow was nervous about the meeting. Why had he invited Merritt?

‘Hello luvvies,’ said Harold.

‘Hello,’ the two of them said, trying to see him in the darkness of the trailer.

‘I have something to show you,’ said Harold, and he turned on a TV screen. An image of the ball came up.

Harold pressed play on a remote somewhere and the screen sprang to life. Willow saw the ball in full swing, then she saw her and Merritt talking and him taking her onto the dance floor. She saw her face as he seduced her as they danced and her rushing to the balcony. Then she saw them kiss. She stood still, aware of Merritt next to her, and she felt ashamed and aroused and shocked.

‘What do you think of that then?’ asked Harold.

Willow spoke up. ‘I’m sorry Harold; I think we got carried away. If we ruined any scenes for you then I apologise. I promise it won’t interfere with the shoot.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Merritt. ‘If we can reshoot or something, whatever you need to do, then I will stay away of course.’ He felt like a chided schoolboy being caught with his hand up a girl’s jumper.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Harold in the darkness. ‘I called you here because I want to use this footage in the film. I think this will be a lovely flashback to your character, Willow, remembering her husband. I think, Merritt, you will be Willow’s husband. Is that alright with you? Do you think you could be Willow’s husband?’

Merritt turned to Willow, who looked back at him, equally surprised.

‘I do,’ he said.

‘And you Willow? Do you think you will be OK with this?’

‘I do,’ said Willow, staring into Merritt’s eyes.

‘Lovely then; all settled. Merritt, Jenny will get you to sign a release form.’ Merritt nodded, still looking at Willow.

‘That’s love there on the screen,’ said Harold. ‘Nobody can act that well. Not even you, Willow.’

Merritt and Willow turned to look at where he had paused the shot. Merritt was holding her and she was looking up at him, the moment before they kissed.

They left Harold’s trailer in silence, Harold’s observations hanging heavily between them. It’s too soon to be in love, thought Willow.

Harold’s crazy, thought Merritt as they walked beside each other. ‘I have to go now,’ said Willow as they arrived at the set in the garden for the afternoon shoot.

‘OK,’ said Merritt, his hands in his pockets.

‘Are you OK with that about Harold? He’s a bit crazy I think,’ said Willow, putting her hand up over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

‘I gathered that,’ said Merritt. ‘I’m fine. My one and only chance to be a movie star.’ He laughed and Willow joined in, although she felt absurdly sad and she didn’t know why.

‘OK, bye then,’ she said, and she walked away.

Merritt watched her leave, and it felt like one of them had just told a lie. The only thing was he wasn’t sure who had told it.

Willow worked late, and when she returned to the house she was tired, grumpy and happy to see that Kitty had put the children to bed, and then filled with guilt that she felt that way.

There was no sign of Merritt. He was probably scared shitless after Harold’s proclamations of their love today, she thought as she climbed the stairs wanting a bath. She was just deciding she was too tired to be bothered to run one when she saw a note taped to her door.

Evening,

I have run you a hot bath. I am available for a back ru
b and other entertainment
either before or after should you require it. Please send me a note under my door i
f you
need anything.

Love Merritt

Willow smiled. He must have written this hours ago, she thought, not realising she would be held back for so long. She took the note off the door and went to drain the cold water from the bath, in case Poppy went to use the bathroom in the night.

Opening the door, she was met with candlelight and the scent of mimosa. The water in the old claw-foot tub was steaming and a soft fluffy towel that Willow hadn’t seen before was folded on the chair at the end of the bath.

Undressing, she slipped into the warm water and felt her muscles relaxing almost immediately. As she sank under the water, she tried to think about the last time someone had done something for her where she didn’t have to ask and pay for the duty. It was the single kindest thing that anyone had done for her in so long that she felt like crying, but she was too tired. Staying in the silky water till her fingers were pruned, eventually Willow got out, dried herself and put on the soft cashmere robe that she had brought with her from London.

When she walked into her room, still clutching the note, she saw that Merritt had closed the curtains, turned on her nightlight and turned down the bed. The room was warm and cosy, with a small vase of pale yellow tea roses by the bed, clumsily arranged. Willow felt a lump in her throat. What a tragic figure she was that a mere bunch of roses could reduce her to a puddle of tears.

She sat on the bed holding his note, thinking of Merritt writing it, fussing around the house, picking the flowers and choosing a vase. She quickly stood up, turned the note over and wrote a reply in her quick writing. She paused, then she signed her name, crept out into the dark hallway and slipped it under Merritt’s door.

Merritt had heard Willow come upstairs but stayed away. He knew he would have liked to be left alone when he was tired and so he didn’t want to harangue her, even though he would have loved to see her again. When he heard her enter her room and shut her bedroom door, he was disappointed not to have her company but hopeful she was feeling better. She looked tired and seemed to be losing more weight as filming went on.

Merritt stood and started to undress for bed when he saw the note slip into his room under the door on the floorboards. He almost ran over to it and scanned it quickly.

Bath was perfect. Bedroom cosy but lonely. Take some time to smell the roses with me. I am incapable of anything except a goodnight handshake and will be wearing some sort of passion killer nightgown, as you English say, but if you are interested knock twice.

Love

Willow

Merritt pulled on a pair of his father’s pyjama trousers, even though he usually slept naked. He figured that he should make the effort since Willow had told him sex was off the menu.

He knocked twice softly at her door. Willow opened it and stood there wearing a knee-length flannel nightgown, a pair of aqua bedsocks and her hair pulled up in a messy bun on her head. Merritt thought she had never looked more real or lovelier.

‘This is me,’ she said, gesturing to her bed wear.

‘Hello me,’ said Merritt, and held his hand out for her to shake it.

Willow smiled at him and pointed to his pyjama trousers. ‘No top?’

‘Yes, well, I’ve had to pull these from the dark and a top might be asking too much. I didn’t want you to think I was after anything more than a handshake. And maybe a little spooning.’ His eyes were dancing. Willow laughed and then pulled him inside and shut the door.

Merritt went and stood by the bed. ‘Right or left side?’ he asked.

‘Left.’

‘Good. Can I look at this book?’

‘Yes, if you want to learn about Victorian occult practices.’

‘I do actually. Do they have a money spell?’

‘Probably. They seem to have a spell for everything,’ Willow said as she got into bed and applied hand cream, her evening ritual every night.

Merritt flicked through the book and Willow checked her phone for messages.

It was easy and domestic and something neither of them had experienced before. They both found they rather liked it, but they didn’t say anything to each other.

Merritt settled into the bed, thumping his pillow. ‘Night night.’

Willow reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. ‘Night Merritt.’

And they slept solidly for eight hours, and when they woke they made love, slowly, the type that is best for the morning. When you know you have all day ahead of you and you’re lazy in your movements and you don’t quite want to wake up.

Then the children came into the room and Kitty tried to usher them out but somehow they all ended up in bed – Poppy with a book, Lucian with Custard and Jinty with a packet of sultanas – and Merritt had never felt happier. He looked across the bed at Willow, who was being force fed sultanas by Jinty while trying to read to Poppy, and Lucian was dancing Custard on Merritt’s feet, and he was
overwhelmed
.

‘He’s a fool you know,’ he said.

‘Who?’ asked Willow, as she shifted Jinty off her hip bone.

‘The man who chose not to be in this bed at this moment with all of this,’ he said, as Custard danced on his head.