The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE




Willow stood in the modest London townhouse and looked at the freshly painted walls. The parquet floors were clean, it had a small garden and four bedrooms. It would do, and it was all she could afford.

Her money from the film and from the Blessings cosmetics contract was just enough for the down payment. The bank had been kind enough to oversee her precarious financial position as long as she committed to working more. She had a budget for the first time in her life, drawn up with the lovely young bank manager whom she had flirted with, just a little. Her accountant had overseen the transactions and now she had a home. Living with the children at the Dorchester had been hard, and she was sure they had worn their welcome a little thinly.

The new nanny, Sally from Australia, was fine. Not as gentle as Kitty, but the children seemed to like her. Poppy asked continually where Kitty was and Willow found it hard not to get cross with her asking, but mostly she felt sick about her treatment of the poor girl. How did she get through life without reading? She had left the odd note for her before; maybe she got the cleaners to read them, she thought.

The doorbell rang and she went to answer it, knowing it would be the first of her scant possessions arriving. She had sent for her things to be delivered from Middlemist, but there had been no word from Merritt. He had made himself clear, she thought sadly.

‘In here,’ she said to the moving men who carried the boxes, carefully marked by the packers, and they placed them down, one after another. And then she was alone again. The beds were set up.

The new couch from The Conran Shop was in the sitting room but she had no kitchen items, no linen, nothing. She sat on the couch, still covered in thin plastic, and cried. How did she get here? she was wondering, when the doorbell rang again.

Wiping her eyes, she went to answer it and saw it was Lucy holding a box, with another at her feet.

‘Hello,’ said Lucy, smiling.

‘Hi,’ said Willow dejectedly.

‘Moving is awful,’ commiserated Lucy.

‘I know. Come in,’ said Willow.

Willow picked up the box from the ground and led Lucy into the kitchen.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, nodding her head towards the box as she placed it on the countertop.

‘A little housewarming gift,’ said Lucy.

Willow opened the box and saw six small terracotta pots with herbs in them and pretty tin plant tags with the names of the herbs stamped on them.

‘Oh how lovely,’ said Willow, taking them out and putting them on the window sill.

‘I have a list of potential magazine interviews for you to go through with me,’ said Lucy.

‘Do any of them pay?’ Willow asked, only half joking as she rubbed a mint leaf between her fingers, the pungent smell filling the kitchen.

‘Well, no. I stayed away from those ones. We need publicity, not charity. I want to spread the word that you are back and as fabulous as ever,’ said Lucy, as she opened her bag and pulled out her notebook. ‘Harper’s Bazaar and Tatler are both interested; I think I can get you the cover of one of them,’ she said, looking at her neat handwriting. ‘Also good news. I wanted to tell you this in person. Devon and Squires, the jewellery house, are looking for a new spokesperson. Are you interested?’

‘What would I have to do?’ asked Willow nervously. It had been a long time since she was the spokesperson for anyone – even herself.

‘Print interviews and wear their jewels exclusively for red carpet events; be alluring and fascinating,’ said Lucy checking her notes again. ‘It’s worth two hundred thousand pounds over two years. I can get you the first year upfront.’ She raised an eyebrow at Willow.

‘You are amazing,’ she said, and she hugged Lucy. ‘Do it, say yes.’ Willow smiled at Lucy, who was fast proving to be her guardian angel.

‘You have to meet with the CEO, Richard Devon, first. He’s the grandson; just taken over the business,’ said Lucy. ‘He’s a bit of a player from what I hear. Dated lots of gorgeous women; tried to lure Liz Hurley from Shane, but no luck.’

Willow nodded. ‘I can be fascinating,’ she said, looking down at her jeans and her worn American Vintage t-shirt. ‘Not sure about alluring.’

‘I know you can. Just lose the flip-flops, I suggest,’ said Lucy, pointing to Willow’s feet.

‘These? These are the height of fashion,’ laughed Willow.

‘So, I’ll set up a meeting?’ asked Lucy, opening her diary.

‘Yep,’ said Willow firmly. She had to earn money, and wearing jewellery wasn’t that hard a task, she thought.

‘Where are the kids?’ asked Lucy, noticing the silence.

‘Out with the nanny,’ said Willow tiredly.

‘What’s happening with Kerr? If you don’t mind me asking,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m being hassled by the press, so what’s the unofficial status so I can work out the official status?’

‘We have to meet with an independent psychologist and have an assessment to see that Kerr and Eliza are fit parents. Then pending that report, we have mediation next week with a judge. If we can’t work it out then we have to go to court and I really don’t want that to happen.’ Willow looked dejected and Lucy nodded understandingly and then paused.

‘I have to ask, and I’m sorry to bring it up, but was what you said about the Oscar true?’

Willow folded and refolded the tea towel. ‘I’m afraid it is. I’m sorry; I’m a bit of a fake really,’ she said quietly.

Lucy shrugged, ‘I don’t care, but the Oscar does give you currency in the celebrity world. You don’t think Kerr will release it to the media? To Eliza?’

Willow sighed. The confession at Middlemist was all she could think about. She wondered what Merritt thought of her now.

‘I don’t really care about it, to be honest with you. The Academy won’t be happy and they will, of course, deny everything. It’s not in their interest to let this out.’

Lucy nodded again. ‘Then let sleeping dogs lie,’ she said and as if by magic, George the puppy tottered into the room from his basket near the back steps.

‘Hello George,’ said Lucy, reaching down and patting the wiggling puppy.

Willow looked at the little dog fondly.

‘Kids still love him?’ asked Lucy, although she knew the answer.

‘They adore him; he’s just what we all needed,’ said Willow, trying to push Merritt out of her mind.

‘No word from Kitty or Merritt?’ asked Lucy, standing up.

Merritt had sent George down with the last of Willow’s possessions, along with a charming note written to the children as George.

Willow had read it over and over, trying to find a clue or a message, but she couldn’t see anything other than kindness towards her children, which in many ways made everything feel worse.

Willow shook her head. ‘I’ve f*cked that one up royally,’ she said sadly.

‘Things have a way of working out,’ Lucy said kindly.

Willow nodded, hoping she was right.

‘So I’ll leave you to unpack, unless you need a hand?’ asked Lucy.

‘No, I’ll be fine, we haven’t got much,’ said Willow, looking around.

‘Let me know how you go with things and I’ll set up some interviews and that meeting with Richard Devon, OK?’

‘Thanks Lucy, I am so grateful for your help,’ said Willow as she waved goodbye from her new front step, determined to treat Lucy the way she deserved. If she had learned anything from life at Middlemist, it was to never take those you love for granted.