The Perfect Retreat (37 page)

There was the drawing room, exactly as she had pictured it. Light and airy and welcoming in blues and greens; silk walls and books everywhere. She felt tears in her eyes as she looked at the next room. The dining room in red, Chinese art around the mahogany table, and chairs for eighteen. The kitchen was her dream room, filled with cupboards, with the Aga, reconditioned, within a warm, cream-toned hearth.

Her eyes travelled across the page and she saw one of the bedrooms decked out in blue, with patchwork quilts and new carpet. Books from the nursery lined the shelves, and on top of the chest of drawers she saw Lucian’s Thomas the Tank Engine.

The next room was in pink and cream, with Cath Kidston wallpaper and linen. It was deliciously girly, and Willow laughed at the idea of Merritt stepping into it. On the door handle of the French armoire was a tulle skirt, which Willow recognised as Poppy’s. She must have left it there, she thought.

A smaller picture of a baby’s room enthralled Willow. It was decorated in cream, with a perfect cot that turned into a bed. A beautifully stuffed armchair in red toile sat in the corner and Willow felt the tears fall as she saw Sophie the Giraffe on top of the tiny, cream bedside table.

She turned to the bathroom. It was the bathroom she had designed in her book, with the done-up clawfoot bath and a chaise longue. It was decadent and sexy and Willow felt proud of her work. She turned to the last page. A double spread of the most perfect bedroom she had ever seen. She hadn’t finished the bedroom design, and Merritt must have done what he thought she would do.

He had knocked down the wall into the next room. The bedroom was enormous, with a reading area and a king-sized bed covered in white linen and pale yellow silk cushions. Merritt hated cushions, always took them off any chair when he sat down, she remembered, but he knew she loved them and that buttery yellow was her favourite colour. Above the bed was the George Middlemist of Clementina and three of her children. The pale yellow lampshades set off the citrus trees in the painting and Willow clutched the magazine to her chest. She scanned the article, speed reading for comments from Merritt, and she felt her heart beat faster as she reached the last paragraph.

‘I believe this is a house for a family. I had hoped that would be mine one day, but it was not to be. So I will be putting it up for rent, sadly; that’s how it must be, I’m afraid, unless some woman with three children waltzes into my life and wants to take me and my house on and can put up with my terrible temper and funny ways.’

Willow picked up the cell phone next to her and dialled. ‘Lucy, I’m coming back,’ she said, and she closed the magazine.

‘Out of the pool,’ she ordered.

‘Why?’ complained Lucian.

‘Because I said so. Good talking by the way,’ she said as she lifted Jinty out of the iced donut ring.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Poppy, shivering, as Willow wrapped a towel around her.

‘Home,’ said Willow. ‘We’re going home.’

The funeral was by invitation only, as expressly stated by Harold in his last will and testament. No one was surprised; Harold had rules and he expected them to be obeyed, even after he had passed.

He left his entire estate to Katinka Iris Clementina Ceres Middlemist, having no other family. A few ex-wives considered contesting the will but no one came forward.

Cremated in his angel wings, his Derek Rose tailored pyjamas and his Dunhill velvet slippers, he had instructed Kitty to release his ashes in Jermyn Street. Harold had updated his papers the week before Christmas, which made Kitty wonder if he knew the heart attack was coming.

She sat with the letter that Harold had left her, Ivo helping her through the words and through the emotion that
overwhelmed
her.

Dearest Katinka,

What fun we have had together.

As I write this I think about society and its obsession with science and proof. People are always trying to prove things, but some things don’t require proof. One just has a knowing about what
is
.

What I mean to say is that you are my daughter, Kitty. Your kindness and loveliness is something I would have been proud to own, so wherever I am now, I claim you as my daughter. There is no need to prove anything more; the proof is in your dedication to learning, your service to me and your newfound ability to make a perfect cup of tea.

I am so proud of you.

Enjoy the world, Kitty. Don’t run away from it. You have a gift for understanding people’s emotions and their stories. Perhaps you will express yourself in film, or perhaps you will write a book one day. Tell your story any way you can, and when you have told yours, tell those of others. There are so many stories – and they don’t all come from books, Kitty – so don’t be afraid to tell yours.

Now down to some housekeeping. You have the details for my voyage with the ferryman; please don’t forget the slippers. If I am sent below to Hades, which I am sure many of my ex-wives have wished for, then I would like something to protect my delicate feet.

If by some chance I have redeemed myself enough to head upstairs, I shall be needing my wings.

I know many think I am a silly old man, and I suppose I am, but I am grateful that I have found great love at the end. It is a perfect ending to an imperfect life.

Goodbye, lovely Katinka, and please give my love to Ivo. I know he is reading this with you. Don’t roll your eyes, it’s an awful habit.

Forever yours,

Harold,

AKA – Harry

Kitty was left the house in London, its contents, Harold’s sizeable bank account and the royalties from his work. His last request was that Kitty oversee the final edit of the film, much to the studio’s horror. Kitty wondered if she was up to the task.

‘If Harold said you can then you can,’ said Merritt as he and Kitty sat with Ivo in the new drawing room at Middlemist in the afternoon sun.

‘It takes me twice as long to do anything,’ said Kitty,
imagining
reading through the script.

‘You’ll be fine,’ said Merritt.

‘Thanks,’ said Kitty sarcastically as she sipped her gin and tonic.

The phone rang and Merritt got up to answer it.

‘The place looks amazing,’ said Ivo, looking around at the shiny and glamorous Middlemist.

‘I know, but it’s too big for him. I get why he wants to move out.’

Merritt walked back into the room. ‘That was the estate agent. He has some big celebrity coming to see the house. They’re in the area, so I’ll have to show them around,’ he said tiredly.

All he had done since the
House & Garden
article was show the house, but there was no one he thought he wanted to let the house to. He was particular about who should live in it, much to his estate agent’s frustration. The Russian oligarch would pay cash, he told Merritt, but Merritt refused.

‘They have to have a family,’ he insisted.

Kitty looked at Ivo. ‘I wonder who it is. How exciting! Maybe it’s Posh and Becks; they have kids,’ she said to Merritt, who rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t roll your eyes at me, you snob,’ she accused her brother as they got ready to greet the
potential
new inhabitants.

The snow was melting and the garden was beginning to show signs of life, and Merritt knew the house looked lovely. They heard a car on the newly gravelled driveway and Kitty stood up.

‘I want to meet Posh and Becks,’ she said.

‘You don’t even know it’s them,’ said Ivo, laughing, and he followed them out to the driveway.

A large Porsche Cayenne with tinted windows stood in the drive, silent and still. Then the back doors opened.

‘Mewwiiit Oswald!’ they heard, and Poppy ran screaming towards Merritt and he picked her up.

‘Pops!’ he cried, and then Lucian leapt out with Custard under his arm and ran to Merritt. Lucian smiled at Kitty.

‘Hi,’ he said, and Kitty felt tears run down her cheeks.

And finally Willow alighted from the car. She walked around the side, and Jinty appeared. Jinty toddled to Kitty and held out her arms, and Kitty hugged her for a long time.

Willow stood shyly in front of them all.

‘I wanted to apologise. I tried to write a letter,’ she said, feeling terrified, much worse than when she had won her mistaken Oscar. She had tried many times to write to Merritt, but the words wouldn’t come and she would just end up crying and watching reruns of
Everybody Loves Raymond
on cable and realising that she actually hated Raymond with a passion. ‘Not everyone loves you Raymond, you massive cock!’ she would scream at the TV.

Wearing jeans and a casual jumper – cashmere with pink and yellow stripes – and black Converse, she looked like any normal young mother. Kitty noticed a smear of food on Willow’s shoulder; from Jinty, no doubt.

‘Are you the celebrity?’ asked Kitty, smiling at Merritt.

‘Sorry?’ asked Willow, confused.

‘To look at the house?’ said Kitty.

‘No, I have no idea what you are talking about,’ said Willow, confusion clouding her face. ‘I just drove here direct from London. We came back from LA last night.’

Merritt started to laugh and so did Ivo and Kitty as another car drove up. Rose Nightingale and her husband Max got out of a black Mercedes.

‘Oh my god. You cannot be serious!’ she exclaimed, laughing, and Kitty clutched Ivo’s arm.

‘I love her. Like seriously
love
her!’ she whispered. Ivo nodded, also starstruck at the sight of Rose.

‘Merritt, how are you?’ asked Rose, and kissed his cheek. Merritt shook Max’s hand and introduced Kitty and Ivo, and Willow stood watching helplessly as her moment in the spotlight was taken over by Rose.

Rose looked at Max. ‘I don’t think this is the right house for us,’ she said, laughing, and walked back to her car. ‘I think this house has found its family.’ She waved as they drove up the driveway.

‘Where was I?’ said Willow, trying to recall the speech she had yet to give.

‘You are here,’ said Merritt, smiling at her.

‘Where’s here?’ she asked, confused. Why was this so hard? It had gone very differently in her head when she had planned out her big moment.

‘Home,’ said Merritt, holding Jinty, Lucian’s hand tucked firmly in his.

Kitty and Ivo snuck back inside the house just as Willow put her hand over her mouth, rushed to the back of the car and opened the boot. George jumped out. Willow walked towards Merritt and he put Jinty down on the gravel, which she proceeded to lick; and he pulled Willow into his arms.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked.

‘I’m serious if you are,’ he said and then he kissed her.

‘I love you, Merritt Edward Oswald Middlemist,’ she said when they finally pulled apart.

‘I love you too, Willow no-middle-name Carruthers.’

They were home, and from somewhere inside, Kitty could have sworn she heard the house give a huge sigh of relief.

No more anger or revenge.

It was the time of the romantics once again.

The stairs were steep, and Willow held on to Ivo’s arm as she took the first one. She felt her thin heel catch in her white lace Dior dress and she paused. Ivo bent down and unhooked it.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘If terrified means ready, then yes,’ she said, and she and Ivo took three more steps and turned to wave at the crowd.

The roar for Willow was enormous.

The Romantics
, Harold Gaumont’s last film, was opening Cannes, and Willow wished he was here. He was the reason everything had turned out so wonderfully in her life.

Ivo had done the red carpet as a favour to Willow, even though he had sworn he was done with acting. She was about to be his sister-in-law, Kitty reminded him as she held out her left hand to admire Clementina’s engagement ring.

Ivo had fulfilled the prophecy in the painting his parents had given him and proposed in the garden at Middlemist on bended knee one Sunday when they arrived for lunch with Willow and Merritt.

Kitty met Ivo’s parents in London several times, and finally he had taken her to meet them at the Casselton estate. She had driven Ivo’s Volvo, having received her provisional
driver’s
licence, and was stunned when she drove carefully up to the house.

‘Shit, it’s a frigging castle,’ she had said, taking in the
enormous
stately home in front of her. It was so large it made Middlemist look like the gatehouse.

Evelyn and Perry were at the front door waiting. Kitty was nervous to meet them on their home turf, but they were just grateful that Kitty had managed to tame Ivo.

‘This is a wonderful house,’ Kitty had said, wondering if she should call it a castle.

‘Yes, Casselton Hall has been in the family since forever,’ said Evelyn easily, gesturing to the stunning Palladian
architecture
.

‘Now, the wedding will be here of course,’ said Evelyn. She had already planned the day in her mind, and she flung open the doors in front of them.

Kitty had gasped at the ornate room, three times the size of the ballroom at Middlemist.

‘The Great Hall,’ said Evelyn. ‘We haven’t had a wedding here for one hundred years, and now is the time I think. Don’t you think Perry?’

Ivo’s father had rocked back and forth on his feet. ‘Now Evelyn, it is their life. They must choose where they will be married.’ Ivo shot his father a look of appreciation, and Perry and he had shared a moment of mutual understanding.

Kitty turned to Ivo. ‘I don’t care where we marry, as long as we do,’ she had said, and Evelyn wiped away a little tear.

‘The future Marquess and Marchioness of Casselton deserve a proper wedding, Peregrine.’

‘What?’ asked Kitty, not believing her ears.

Ivo looked down. ‘I was going to get to that.’

‘Why yes dear, when Perry pops his clogs then Ivo inherits. Once you are married, Kitty, you will be Lady Kitty Casselton. Ivo is already titled,’ she said, looking at her son and wondering why on earth he hadn’t mentioned this earlier. Part of Perry’s appeal had been his title when she had met him thirty years before at Annabel’s.