The Perfect Retreat (17 page)

‘I’ll have mine black with one sugar,’ he said.

Kitty frowned, but took an extra mug down and dumped a teabag in it.

‘Where’s their mother?’ asked Ivo.

‘I have no idea,’ said Kitty.

‘With the gardener no doubt,’ laughed Ivo. ‘It’s all very D H Lawrence isn’t it?’

‘Who’s D H Lawrence?’ asked Kitty in spite of herself.

‘The writer? Wrote
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
? The book about the lady who has an affair with her gardener. Or perhaps it was a gamekeeper,’ he mused to himself.

‘I haven’t read it,’ said Kitty.

‘Then you must,’ said Ivo. ‘I’m Ivo, by the way,’ he offered.

‘Kitty,’ she offered in return.

‘I know,’ he said.

‘How do you know?’

‘Lady Chatterley told me when I asked about you, and I remember you told me when I met you in her kitchen in London.’

Kitty said nothing, wondering what Willow had told him about her. Then she spoke quickly. ‘How do you know about Willow and Merritt?’ she asked.

‘Is that his name?’ asked Ivo. ‘I saw them snogging in the garden yesterday,’ he said, his eyes glinting in the lamplight.

‘Really?’ asked Kitty, intrigued. Merritt had got to work fast, she thought.

‘Yes, all very sexy,’ said Ivo, stretching out his long legs and putting them on the worn ottoman in front of him.

‘Wow,’ said Kitty, breathing heavily. ‘I hope this doesn’t end badly,’ she said aloud.

‘Why does it concern you? Probably just a quick fuck while she’s on location,’ said Ivo, looking at her cardigan straining against her breasts.

‘Well, Merritt’s my brother,’ said Kitty with a shrug of the shoulders.

‘Ah yes, then it could be a problem.’

Kitty put the tea beside him on the table and sat opposite him. ‘Do you like being an actor?’ she asked politely.

‘Dunno yet. This is my first real job,’ said Ivo, blowing on his tea. ‘Do you like being a nanny?’ he asked.

‘I suppose it’s alright. I don’t think I’d be much good at anything else,’ she said. ‘I like the children. I love them
actually
.’ She smiled and Ivo thought how lovely her face was when she felt joy.

‘You didn’t go to university?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I didn’t want to,’ snapped Kitty.

Ivo put the tea down and looked at the pile of worn leather journals. Kitty had taken them out of her room and left them there.

‘What are these?’ he asked.

Kitty looked at him. ‘Are you always so nosy and rude?’ she asked.

‘I’m not being rude, I just asked what these are,’ he said, not looking up from the journals, which were now in his elegant hands.

‘They’re journals. They were found last week but I haven’t had time to go through them yet,’ she said.

‘Look at this handwriting. It’s like art,’ he said, turning the pages carefully. ‘Some of it’s in French,’ he said. ‘Do you speak French?’

‘No.’

‘I do. I could translate it for you if you like,’ he said.

Kitty paused. She had promised Merritt she would go through them, but now they were in French she had a perfect excuse.

‘Really? You would do that for me?’ she asked, her dark eyes narrowing.

‘Absolutely, on one condition,’ he said, looking at her.

‘What?’ she asked carefully.

‘You show me your other boob,’ he said, and Kitty laughed at him.

‘Very funny!’

‘No, I’ll do this for you and you can help me with my lines. I only got the script yesterday and it’s so wordy. Would you?’

Kitty felt her stomach sink, and she tried not to look at him as she felt tears pricking her eyes. She could think of nothing better than to help this gorgeous, flirtatious man, the one she had been thinking of for so long, with his lines – any excuse to spend time with him – but instead she looked away.

‘I don’t think so, I’m really busy with the children. Sorry.’

Ivo looked at her closely, his eyes narrowing a little. ‘No drama, I can learn them on my own. But I would still like to help you with these; gives me something to do besides learn lines and chase you.’

Kitty looked up at him quickly to see if he was serious and she saw he was. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if to say,
If you’ll let me
.

‘If you want,’ she said quietly.

‘What? Read the journals or chase you?’ he asked, leaning forward, and Kitty felt her face flush.

‘The journals, of course.’ But her face gave her away and Ivo winked at her, the tiniest of winks, and Kitty felt her stomach give way to butterflies.

‘Then the journals it is,’ said Ivo, and he drained his tea, picked up the books and headed to the door. ‘Night Pussy- cat. Sleep tight.’

And then he left, and Kitty breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment.

Willow and Merritt snuck back into the other wing of the house in a state of undress and bliss. They crept into the hallway and stopped outside her room. ‘I’d ask you in, but the kids come into my bed in the morning,’ she said, and Merritt smiled.

‘I know,’ he said.

They stood facing each other, clutching their costumes.

‘Right then. Night,’ said Willow, embarrassed.

Merritt pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, and Willow felt her knees buckle. She opened the door with one hand and dragged him inside. They dropped the clothes and headed to her bed kissing, and she pulled the covers back so they could slip underneath them, the cool sheets a shock to their warm bodies.

Lying her down on the bed he kissed her all over, and Willow let him take her. This time he lay on top of her and watched her face as he entered her, and together they reached a climax that Willow thought was going to drown her.

They lay together, Willow’s head on his chest, and they slept soundly.

Merritt was woken by breath on his face. He opened one eye and saw Lucian standing in his pyjamas at the edge of the bed, face to face with him. Merritt, startled, woke Willow, and she sat up and saw Lucian.

‘Hi Luce,’ she said casually.

He smiled at her and she felt her heart pound. He never smiled.

‘What you got there?’ she asked, pulling the covers up around her nakedness.

Lucian clambered onto the bed and sat in between them, pulling the covers up over his lap, and held out Custard.

‘Is that Custard?’ asked Merritt, surprised.

Lucian held the bear close to him. Merritt smiled at the small boy. ‘I’m glad you found him, although I have no idea where.’

‘Who’s Custard?’ asked Willow, looking at the worn bear.

‘My bear from when I was a child. Maybe Kitty found it,’ said Merritt, looking at his childhood friend. Willow went to get out of bed and felt Lucian’s hand on her arm pulling her back in. ‘I have to get up, Luce,’ she said, but Lucian held her arm tightly.

‘Alright, just a minute then,’ said Willow, settling back into bed. The three of them lay there in silence while Lucian tucked Custard under his arm. He held his mother’s arm and put his head on Merritt’s pillow.

Merritt lay still, smelling the boy’s clean hair. It was so bizarre to experience this feeling of contentment. He wondered if Willow felt it as well.

Willow, however, was silently freaking out, panicking that Poppy would soon come darting into the room. The door opened quietly and Kitty poked her head around. ‘Sorry, is Lucian …?’ she started, and then saw the three of them in bed. Willow felt her face turn the colour of beetroot.

‘Hi Lucian,’ she said, not missing a beat. ‘Morning Merritt, morning Willow. When you three are ready I have eggs and bacon,’ said Kitty, a small smile filling her voice. ‘Or I could bring them up to you if you like.’ She looked at Merritt, whose turn it was to flush red.

‘No, no, we are just coming,’ said Willow, not moving.

‘Come on Luce, you get first pick of the bacon!’ Lucian jumped over Merritt and ran towards the door and down the hallway. Kitty closed the door, held her hand over her mouth and ran down after him. Well done Merritt, she thought as she served up the bacon.

Willow sat on the edge of the bed. ‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ she said, her head in her hands.

Merritt rolled over and ran a finger up her spine. ‘It’s fine. Lucian’s sweet,’ he said honestly. ‘I liked it actually.’

‘You say that now. Wait till you have three of them in the bed,’ she laughed, shivering at his touch.

Merritt nuzzled against her back. ‘Come back to bed,’ he whispered.

Willow tried to stand. ‘I have to get up. God, what will Kitty be thinking?’ she said.

‘She’ll be fine. She won’t care. Kitty’s pretty Zen about things, I think you’ll find.’ Merritt pulled her about the waist and laid her back on the bed. ‘Now, there is something I like to do in the mornings. Want me to show you?’ He laughed, and leant down to kiss her, his unshaven face rubbing against her cheek.

‘Make it quick,’ she said, half jokingly.

‘Not a chance lady,’ he said, and disappeared under the covers.

Kitty fed the children and waited for their mother to come downstairs. Today was Saturday and there was no filming, so Willow had promised Kitty she could have some time off. She sat waiting in the kitchen. It was now ten o’clock and there was still no sign of her brother and her employer. I knew this would get messy, she thought, and she pulled out the vacuum and started to clean the hallway, hoping to disturb them.

It worked, and Willow, wearing a robe, poked her head out of the door. ‘Just going to have a shower and then you can head off, Kitty,’ she said casually, as though she hadn’t just been fucking her brother all morning.

‘Thanks,’ said Kitty. She left the vacuum where it was, went to her bedroom and looked at her reflection. She had the urge to head to the village where she knew Ivo was staying and hang around until she saw him. She had tried to think of a better plan but couldn’t come up with one. It had worked in school, so why not now? she thought.

Dressing carefully, she pulled on her jeans and her black boots. She wore a white t-shirt with a blue jacket of her father’s over the top, the sleeves rolled up to show the pink silk lining.

She went into the nanny quarters where she had left the piles of clothes that Poppy had found in the eaves and she pulled at them till she found what she was looking for: a silk paisley-print scarf in purples, pinks and greens, almost a shawl, that she rolled up and slung casually around her neck.

As an afterthought she pulled a thin gold chain out of the box of costume jewellery and put it around her neck. It hung long on her, and it was a little tarnished. On it hung a gold pendant: a circle of seed pearls surrounding a painting of a man’s eye. Hair curled around the image.

It swung between Kitty’s breasts and she liked the weight of it around her neck. Applying a small amount of lip gloss she skipped down the stairs, where she found Merritt waiting for her by the front door, dressed for gardening.

‘Sorry about this morning,’ he said sheepishly.

‘Doesn’t bother me,’ she said cheerfully, as she grabbed her bag.

‘Where you off to?’ he asked. ‘You look nice.’

‘The village. Need anything?’ she sang as she swung open the huge front door.

‘No,’ said Merritt, wondering what had put such a spring in her step.

Kitty walked down the driveway and went to the bus stop at the end of the street.

The buses ran every half hour on a Saturday, so Kitty sat down to wait. She thought about Merritt and Willow. Although it seemed odd, they kind of made sense together. Her brother was misunderstood, but he was inherently good; he just didn’t always know how to deal with people, she thought. He was smart and clever and could grow anything. Why did all the talents in the family bypass her? she wondered.

Kitty saw the bus rumbling towards her and she stood up as it came to a stop. There was someone waiting at the door and she stood back to let him step off. It was Ivo.

‘Hello. I was coming to pay you a visit,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ said Kitty, flustered and pleased to see him. ‘I was heading into the village,’ she said, and they stood awkwardly, Kitty on the ground and Ivo on the bus steps.

‘On or of
f
?’ called the impatient driver. Kitty jumped on and Ivo grabbed her as the doors closed behind her and the bus lurched forward.

Ivo led her to a seat and squashed in beside her. They were the only ones on the bus. Kitty tried to act cool as she looked out the window.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I was coming to see you?’ asked Ivo, nudging her with his elbow.

‘Oh yes, right. I forgot. Why?’ she asked, staring out of the window at the green fields.

‘I thought about you all night,’ he said, and Kitty turned to look at him. ‘I was reading your journals.’ Kitty nodded.

‘Oh,’ she said for lack of anything else to say.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that your great-great-great-grandfather was George Middlemist?’ he said.

‘I didn’t think it was important. Why?’

‘Those journals you gave me are written by his wife, Clementina,’ said Ivo.

‘Really? That’s amazing. What does she say?’ asked Kitty excitedly.

‘I’ve just started them and the language is very formal, but it seems to be her diary of her marriage,’ said Ivo.

‘Amazing,’ said Kitty, her eyes widening.

‘Do you know much about her?’ asked Ivo, looking at the necklace between her breasts.

‘Nothing really. Maybe Merritt knows something. It’s all a bit sad really. We don’t have one painting of George’s in the house; it was the bane of my father’s life,’ she said.

‘Not one?’ asked Ivo, surprised. ‘I thought he was quite prolific.’

‘Do you know much about him? I would love to know more,’ said Kitty, turning in her seat, her knees pressed against his.

‘I know a bit from university. I rather liked his work. Some people thought it was a bit poncy but I like how he painted women as women. Women who looked like you,’ he said, his eyes searching her face.

Kitty felt herself blush.

‘You can read the journals after I’ve translated them,’ he said, and Kitty looked away.