Kate Forster - The Perfect Retreat

‘No, no, I should have called you. It’s fine. I’m just going to do some assessing of the house and the gardens and try and work out a plan as to whether the house will ever be habitable, or whether we’ll have to sell to the National Trust.’

‘It looks shabbier than ever,’ admitted Kitty. ‘I hate to think what it looks like during the day.’

‘Well, we’ll see in the morning,’ said Merritt, standing up and stretching. ‘What’s she like? Your Oscar-winning boss?’

‘She’s nice. A little bit crazy at times, but she’s had a rough time over the years I’ve been with her. Did you really not know who she was?’ asked Kitty, as she stood opposite her brother.

‘Of course I knew who she was – I haven’t been in a coma – but I wasn’t going to let her know that. She has that look of haughty expectation. Way too high maintenance. I wanted her to keep it real.’ He laughed.

Upstairs, Willow lay on the flannel sheets she had found in the hall cupboard. They smelt of mildew and violets. Merritt’s face crossed her mind. It felt nice that he didn’t know who she was. Anyway, she had no idea who she was any more, so why should anyone else claim to know her? Rolling over, she faced the large window with only one curtain drawn. She could see the crescent moon outside.

Now was the time to find out who she was, and there was no better place to do it than here, she thought. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming of staircases and tunnels and violets.

The next morning when Willow was still asleep and Kitty was up with the children, Merritt came stomping into the kitchen, his boots caked with mud.

‘Fuck a duck, it’s a shithole out there!’ he exclaimed, and he heard a child laugh.

Looking up he saw three faces staring at him. ‘Whoops … sorry about the language.’

Kitty frowned at him. ‘Be careful what you say. Poppy repeats everything.’

‘And what about you? Do you know that swearing is the sign of a low vocabulary?’ he said to Lucian as he poured himself a mug of tea from the brown pot on the table.

‘Lucian doesn’t talk. If you want to tell him anything you have to go through me,’ said Poppy with her little arms crossed. This morning she was wearing her pyjamas with a dressing gown that he was sure had once belonged to his father; navy silk with stains and moth holes.

‘OK, roger that,’ said Merritt, and he raised his eyebrows at Kitty. She met his gaze and shook her head imperceptibly. ‘Well, you’d better introduce me then.’

Poppy turned importantly to Lucian. ‘This is Merritt Edward Oswald. He’s Kitty’s brother.’

Kitty laughed. ‘She has a mind like a steel trap,’ she said to Merritt.

‘And who’s this seedling?’ he asked, looking at Jinty, who was shoving toast into her mouth.

‘This is Jinty. She can’t talk either. I’m the only one who can talk.’

‘Well done you,’ said Merritt. ‘So, what’s on this morning?’ he asked.

‘Not sure yet,’ said Kitty. ‘Mummy’s still asleep isn’t she?’

‘Mummy sleeps in every morning,’ said Poppy.

‘Lucky her,’ said Merritt. ‘I’ve been up since five o’clock.’

‘Why?’ asked Poppy as she peeled the cheese off her toast and ate it first.

‘Best time, the morning. Quiet. No one to disturb you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because no one is up yet.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they are all asleep.’

‘Why?’

Kitty looked at Merritt. ‘This is her new thing. Enjoy.’

Merritt laughed.

‘Well, I’m heading off on a tour of the other gardens. Anyone want to come?’ he asked.

‘Me!’ cried Poppy.

‘What about Lucian?’ he asked the small boy, who stared straight ahead.

‘He wants to come too,’ said Poppy with authority.

‘Do they have some sort of secret language, like twins?’ he said quietly in Kitty’s ear.

She shrugged. The truth was she had no idea about Lucian and Poppy’s bond, and even less idea about Lucian’s reluctance to speak. His fascination with his blocks and Thomas the Tank Engine hadn’t waned since she had started working for Willow, and she figured if he was happy then she shouldn’t interfere.

‘Well go and get dressed,’ he said to Poppy and Lucian. ‘Quickly. I’ll meet you out the front.’

‘I’ll leave you here with Jinty for a moment, OK?’ Kitty said as she hustled the two children upstairs.

Jinty and Merritt eyed each other, and Jinty promptly burst into tears. ‘Oh dear. What a roar,’ he said, undoing the straps on her highchair. He picked her up and she stopped crying, looked at him and smiled.

‘Hello Jinty,’ he said seriously.

She blew a raspberry at him and covered him in bits of soggy toast. He laughed and looked up to see Willow watching him.

‘Morning,’ he said, and held Jinty out towards her mother.

‘Hi,’ she said, and took Jinty in her arms. Jinty started to cry again and reached out for Merritt.

‘It seems she likes you,’ said Willow tiredly.

Merritt was surprised. He had little experience with children and Jinty and Poppy’s enthusiasm for him was unusual, and flattering. Taking Jinty back into his arms she settled with her blonde head against his shoulder and Willow smiled.

‘You have a fan.’

Merritt snorted but was secretly pleased. Jinty was warm and soft and her little wisps of breath on his neck tickled him.

‘I’m about to take your other two for a tour. I hope that’s OK,’ he said.

‘Fine,’ said Willow. She didn’t mind as long as she could have a coffee and time to make her phone calls.

Willow started opening random cupboards and Merritt watched her. She was dressed in leggings and a t-shirt with a long cardigan over the top. Her legs were so thin he thought they might snap.

‘Have you lost something?’ he asked.

‘The coffee pot,’ she said. ‘I was sure Kitty had packed it.’

Kitty walked back into the kitchen with the children dressed for outside, although Poppy had added her purple feather boa. ‘Kitty, where’s the coffee pot?’ snapped Willow.

Kitty thought of the coffee pot and remembered she had left it sitting on the bench back in London. ‘Oh no, I knew I forgot something!’ she cried.

‘Christ Kitty, do I have to remember everything?’ Willow glared at her and thumped out of the kitchen.

‘She’s lovely in the morning,’ said Merritt under his breath.

Kitty looked crestfallen and took Jinty from his arms. ‘Don’t let them near the lake,’ she said.

‘Sure,’ said Merritt and he took one of the children’s hands in each of his. ‘Alright explorers. Let’s go!’ he said and Kitty watched as they headed down the gravel driveway together.

As she took Jinty upstairs for her sleep she heard Willow on the phone in the drawing room.

‘Of course I will. Thanks Simon. No, I haven’t heard,’ Kitty overheard as she walked past the room towards the stairs. ‘He’s a shit, I know.’

Simon was Willow’s agent. Kitty had only seen him in the flesh once in three years, at a party Willow hosted at her home, which had gone well until Lucian had come downstairs and set up his Thomas the Tank Engine train set in amidst the feet of the guests.

Lucian had been so engrossed in his trains that he had refused to move, and Kitty had been called to try and shift him back upstairs. She had sat next to him in the centre of the room and talked quietly to him for over fifteen minutes until Lucian finally let her pack up the tracks and the trains and take him back to his room. Willow had laughed nervously to Simon, who she was chatting to, and Kerr had shaken his head and gone outside onto the balcony for a joint. Most of the guests had tried to ignore the scene, except for a young man who had observed from across the room. He had watched Kitty’s face as she talked to the child, whose face was absent of expression, and saw how gently she spoke to him. He noticed her wet hair and long fingers and how they touched his little face to turn it towards her, and how the child’s eyes never met her wide brown ones. He saw how the room full of London’s glitterati didn’t faze her, and how her intention was solely to help the small, lost boy.