Kate Forster - The Perfect Retreat

Kitty had had no idea she was being watched. The party was just after she had started with Willow and Kerr and all she wanted was for Lucian not to make a scene. She had been in the bath when Willow had banged on the door telling her to come and get him.

She had put Lucian back to bed and made sure he was asleep. Then she snuck down the back stairs to the kitchen to see if there were any of those crèmes brûlées in tiny teacups left that she had seen the waiters handing around.

As she walked into the kitchen there were a few waiters and a guest. Kitty ignored them and walked over to the bench, which was filled with leftover delights from the party.

‘Hello,’ said the guest.

Kitty looked up and saw a handsome man, maybe a few years older than her. He was wearing a dinner suit with the tie casually undone and hanging around his neck.

‘Hi,’ said Kitty shyly.

‘You did very well with your little friend in there,’ he said, sipping from a highball glass.

‘Thanks,’ said Kitty and wondered if he would think her greedy if she got a tray and piled it high with tasty morsels to take back to her bedroom.

‘You the nanny then?’ he asked, eyeing her over and noticing her tiny waist and large breasts in her tracksuit bottoms and long-sleeved thermal top. Kitty wished she had put on a bra when she had jumped out of the bath.

‘Yes,’ said Kitty, trying to cover her breasts with her arms.

‘I had a nanny when I was small. Never looked like you though.’ He raised one dark eyebrow at her.

Kitty didn’t know what to say, so she stood silently.

‘You’re a bit of a kiddie whisperer then?’ he asked.

‘That sounds terrible when you say it like that,’ she said, startled.

‘No, no, no tawdry intention; just commenting on your brilliance with the kiddies,’ he laughed.

‘Are you a friend of Willow and Kerr’s?’ she asked, wanting the conversation with the handsome man to continue.

‘Me? No. I don’t think they have any friends here. I don’t think they have any friends at all actually. No, I’m sleeping with one of the guests, who’s here with her husband,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ said Kitty, shocked and disappointed. Of course a man like this would be with the fabulous people; she had forgotten her place.

‘Are you shocked?’ he asked her, liking the flash of disappointment that had fleetingly crossed her face.

‘Yes,’ she answered honestly. ‘It’s not very nice for the husband.’

‘I suppose not,’ said the man, clearly not caring.

Kitty stood waiting for him to say something else, but the room was silent except for the sound of glasses and plates being packed up by the catering staff.

‘Well I’m off to bed,’ she said finally.

‘Alone?’

‘Yes!’ she said, shocked again.

‘Shame. What’s your name then?’

‘Kitty,’ she said shyly.

‘Goodnight little pussy,’ he said sexily, and Kitty felt herself go weak at the knees.

‘Night then.’ Kitty left the kitchen without anything that she had come for.

Boys had always pursued Kitty, but this one was different, she had thought. The last boy she had slept with she had met at a pub nearby when she was exploring the nightlife in her new city. He was a funny New Zealander who had plied her with vodka and taken her back to his hostel. They’d had quick fumbling sex and she’d passed out on his bunk bed, to awake to him packing his rucksack and telling her he was off to Prague that day and to look after herself.

Kitty had done the walk of shame home to Willow’s, where she had snuck upstairs before the rest of the house had awoken.

After her recent bad experience she was trying to stay away from the opposite sex. She always seemed to choose the wrong ones. She had lost her virginity to Merritt’s friend Johnny Wimple-Jones, which she would never be telling Merritt about. It had been a mistake, she realised in hindsight, but Johnny had been so nice when he had turned up at Middlemist claiming he needed to speak to Merritt urgently. Merritt had already left the country and her father was in London for the night. Brandy and flattery had got Kitty into bed, and Johnny had taken her in a haze of drunkenness and a small amount of pain. Truthfully, she was happy to get rid of her virginity. It sat in the corner of her adolescence, in turn berating her and scaring her until she finally laid the ghost to rest – or Johnny did, so to speak.

After Merritt told her about Eliza cheating on him with Johnny, Kitty was shattered and had vowed to keep her tryst with Johnny secret forever.

The young man at Willow’s party unnerved her. His grace and casual elegance was something she had never seen in a man. Her own father and Merritt were men of the land, all dirty fingernails and work boots. There was a feline quality about this man in his dinner suit, and his upper-crust, lazy accent reminded her of Alan Rickman and Jude Law rolled into one.

She had never seen him since, but she thought about him sometimes, never daring to ask Willow who he was. Instead, when she was lonely in her bed, she would make up her own fantasies about him. It was easier than actually having to have a real conversation with a man; small talk and secrets. Kitty preferred the world in her head to the world outside. She knew why Lucian kept to himself.

Kitty left Jinty sleeping and found Willow waiting for her in the hallway.

‘I have to go back to London. You going to be alright here for a few days with the children?’ Willow didn’t give Kitty time to answer; she started walking towards her bedroom expecting Kitty to follow, which she dutifully did.

‘I’m seeing a new PR girl. Some young gun apparently; Simon recommended her. If I need money quickly then I have to get back to work. Simon believes – and I agree with him – that my re-entry into the public eye needs to be managed carefully.’

Kitty nodded. It all seemed so hard, this celebrity life of Willow’s. Nothing was ever done honestly, she thought, her mind on the hair and makeup artists who would spend hours on Willow to get her looking like she was naturally fabulous. If they could see her now, thought Kitty as she looked at Willow in her leggings and odd socks.

‘I’m pleased this woman will take me on as a client actually. She set up the deal for Gwyneth to work for Estée Lauder. And Simon has a film he’s putting me up for that Kate Winslet’s just dropped out of because of her divorce, so that’s good.’

Kitty was silent, although she wasn’t sure Kate Winslet thought her divorce was good. She wondered if Willow had any empathy for the woman, who was only in the same situation she was in herself.

‘I’m going to shower and head off now. I’ll be staying at the Dorchester until I get things sorted.’

Kitty wondered how she was going to pay for the Dorchester if she was running low on cash. Willow, as if reading her mind, spoke up. ‘Simon set it up. I’m going to be photo-graphed coming and going – they’ll give me a suite for as long as I need.’

‘That’s nice of them,’ said Kitty.

‘Nice? No it’s business, Kitty,’ said Willow. ‘So call me, OK?’

‘Are you going to wait for the children to return?’ asked Kitty.

‘No, no time. You can say my goodbyes. They’ll be fine,’ she said, taking her large Louis Vuitton toiletry bag and walking towards the bathroom, with Kitty following her out down the corridor. As she was about to go through the bathroom door she stopped and turned. ‘Kitty?’

Kitty turned and looked at her employer.

‘Thanks.’ Willow looked uncomfortable as she spoke the word.

‘It’s OK,’ said Kitty, and she smiled at Willow. For a brief moment the women looked at each other as equals. Then Willow shut the bathroom door on her, and Kitty was outside again.