The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT




Merritt walked through the house, happy to have it to himself again. Kerr and Eliza had skulked away; hatching evil plans for another day, he thought. Kitty walked through the front door. She took one look at him and burst into tears again.

Taking her in his arms, he held her for a long time. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Kitty Kat?’ he asked quietly.

‘I couldn’t tell anyone,’ she mumbled.

‘You told Ivo though.’

‘I didn’t, he guessed.’

Merritt held her close and felt pain for the years he’d spent away from her when she needed him most. Why did Ivo realise so swiftly about Kitty’s reading problems and not him or Dad? Deep down he knew the answer was because he and his father were completely self-absorbed. Forgetting Kitty had just lost her mother and worrying about money and reputations instead. All those years she had suffered and she hadn’t said a thing. Merritt wondered if he could ever forgive himself.

‘I should have been there for you,’ he said, his voice cracking.

‘You had your own life, Merritt … and Eliza,’ she said, and Merritt started to laugh.

‘You never liked her did you?’ he asked his younger sister.

‘Never,’ she admitted, and they laughed and cried at the same time.

‘Is Willow here?’ she asked, listening for the children.

Merritt looked down and Kitty realised she had gone.

‘Oh Merritt, it’s all my fault,’ she cried, and he led her by the hand to the kitchen.

‘None of that now please. We had to sort things out once Kerr got here and things just went a bit silly, that’s all,’ he said, sounding calmer than he felt.

‘Do you think you will talk to her soon? Can you tell her I’m sorry?’ said Kitty. ‘I feel so terrible.’

Merritt put the kettle on and sat down opposite her.

‘Listen. I want you to know something; it’s really important,’ said Merritt, reaching across the table.

Kitty looked up at him mournfully. ‘What?’

‘When they found Lucian, they took him to the police station. They asked him to write his name down so they could try and find out where he came from. Do you know what he did?’ asked Merritt.

Kitty shook her head. ‘He can’t read or write. Poor thing, it must have been awful.’

‘That’s the thing, Kits. He did know. He wrote down Merritt, minus the extra r and t. Your teaching him helped, Kitty – it helped him. And when all the drama dies down then Willow will see what you taught him. He can learn; he just needs to find the right teacher.’

Kitty cried again, and Merritt watched her.

‘It’s a bit like you, Kits,’ he said.

‘What’s like me?’ she asked, accepting the box of tissues that Merritt handed her.

‘You just need the right teacher,’ he said, ‘to help you learn how to read.’

She nodded.

Merritt continued, buoyed by acceptance. ‘I know Ivo tried, and he did an OK job, it seems; but you need professional help from people who do this all the time.’

At the mention of Ivo’s name Kitty felt the tears come back.

‘What? What’s happened?’ asked Merritt, confused.

‘I can’t believe he told everyone,’ she said, her cheeks turning red with shame.

Merritt shrugged. ‘Willow was being awful, even you could see that. He tried to stand up for you.’

‘But I left and I didn’t check my messages. I assumed you would take care of the children when it was my job; she was right,’ said Kitty in a small voice.

Merritt didn’t say anything. She was right, she had neglected her care, but then so had Willow and so had he and Kerr. They were all wrapped up in their own dramas, and it was the children who had suffered the most.

‘So what do you want to do?’ he asked as he poured her a cup of tea. Kitty stirred some sugar in.

She sat and sipped the sweet liquid, and then she looked at Merritt. ‘I want my inheritance, and I want to go to London to learn how to read,’ she said.

Merritt raised his chipped willow-patterned mug to her. ‘Then off to London it is,’ he said.

‘What about you and Willow?’ asked Kitty, emerging from her own personal crisis.

‘Willow? Oh she’s long gone,’ said Merritt, almost cheerfully.

‘Aren’t you sad?’ asked Kitty, her face clouded with worry.

‘Oh no. I don’t think we were meant to be long term; just a bit of fun, that’s how those actors like to play it,’ said Merritt as he crossed his long legs. ‘I’m sure she’s had lots of lovers since her dickhead husband left her.’

Kitty shook her head violently. ‘No Merritt, she hasn’t. I’ve lived with her since before Jinty was born. You have no idea how lonely she is. Did you know Kerr told her to get an abortion with Jinty? I was her birth coach – he didn’t even come to the hospital.’

Merritt looked at his cup as she spoke, thinking about Willow. There was no doubt she had had a tough time, but that didn’t entitle her to be abusive to the girl who had raised her children for the last two years.

‘Merritt, don’t be too hard on her,’ said Kitty softly. ‘I would have fired me today too; she just did it badly, that’s all.’

Merritt smiled at her. ‘Of course you’re right, Kits; but what do I want with three kids and a mad-as-a-snake actress in a country home?’ he scoffed.

Kitty looked at him closely and took his hand. ‘I’m not blind, Merritt. I know how you feel about her.’

Merritt took his hand away. ‘And now she’s gone. She was telling the truth about Kerr, and I punished her, and then she punished you because of me. It’s all a massive cock-up, eh Kits?’

Kitty put her head on the table and groaned.

‘Is Ivo coming back here?’ he asked her as he cleared the cups from the table.

‘No, we’re over too,’ said Kitty.

‘Because he stood up for you to Willow?’ asked Merritt.

‘Because he promised he would never tell and he did. He made people feel sorry for me, and that’s the last thing I wanted.’

‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?’ asked Merritt.

‘No harsher than you,’ answered Kitty, and she stood up. ‘I’m going to head back to London tomorrow.’

‘I’ll drive you,’ said Merritt.

‘No, I’ll take the train,’ she said. ‘Gives me time to read.’ She slapped her hand on her leg as though she’d just made the funniest joke in the world.

Merritt laughed in spite of her terrible joke. ‘At least you can laugh,’ he said as he switched off the light in the kitchen.

‘God knows I’m sick of crying,’ she said in the darkness.