The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR




Willow sat with her lawyer in the mediation rooms. Kerr’s lawyer sat opposite.

‘I’m not prepared to wait any longer,’ the mediator said. ‘Since Kerr Bannerman has missed this second appointment, I will give temporary custody to the children’s mother, Willow Carruthers. If your client deems it fit to grace us with his presence and argue for his existence in the children’s lives, then please do keep us informed,’ said the mediator, standing up. A formidable woman. Willow felt afraid for Kerr’s sake, if he did ever front up.

Kerr’s lawyer sat down wearily in the chair after the mediator had left. ‘Do you know where he is?’ she asked Willow.

‘No idea,’ she said honestly. Kerr’s disappearance was not unusual, and she knew he was fine. He was too arrogant not to be. Even though the banks were pursuing him and his record label kept calling Willow for his whereabouts, he refused to show his face. She wondered where he was. He clearly didn’t need the money from her now, she thought, as her lawyer turned to speak to her.

‘So you’re a single mother in the eyes of the law now.’ She smiled at her client.

‘I always have been, in my own eyes,’ she said, and this time it was really true. She was up early every morning now, caring for her children, tending to the scrapes and the struggles; but mostly she was getting to know them.

She knew now that Poppy liked boiled eggs but not scrambled and that she wanted to be a puppy doctor when she was grown up; she knew her favourite story was Madeline and the Bad Hat, because she read it to her every night before bed.

She knew Jinty rubbed her dummies on her face when she was tired, and liked both her teddies in her cot before she would sleep. She liked the sound of the birds in the courtyard, and she ate the dog’s dried food at least twice before Willow realised.

But the most special pleasure she had was in watching Lucian emerge from his silent, anxious world.

Willow was diligent with the exercises, and kindergarten had helped. His sounds were coming and his confidence was growing. She didn’t know whether to scold him or praise him when he snatched the crayons off Poppy one morning, causing Poppy to burst into tears with shock at her brother standing up for himself.

Willow had known that Kerr wouldn’t show up to mediation. Another month had passed since the first scheduled visit and Kerr had obviously found a source of wealth more valuable than Willow’s paltry stream.

At least, it was paltry compared to what she had once spent; but now she saved. She had a savings account, and it made her laugh to see the statement on screen when she logged in on her phone. She listened when her accountant rang her about her deal for Devon and Squires, and she made decisions that gave her peace of mind.

‘I have to go,’ she said to the lawyer. ‘I have a party to go to.’

The lawyer raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s work,’ protested Willow, and the woman laughed.

It is work, she thought as she walked into Richard’s office that evening. Work, and perhaps a little play. No woman is an island, after all.

‘You look lovely,’ said Richard, as Willow walked into the room. She smiled; she knew he was right. She did look wonderful, in her new Oscar de la Renta coral silk cocktail dress. Strapless with a trail of gold embroidery over the skirt, it showed off her flawless skin and tiny waist. Her hair was straight and long and her makeup, courtesy of the makeup artist that Kelly from Blessings had recommended, was exquisite. It was the best she had felt in a long time, and she reminded herself to write Oscar a note to thank him for lending her the dress for the evening.

Richard stood up from the sofa and placed a string of diamonds around her neck, to match the diamond and coral drop earrings she was wearing.

The first meeting with Richard from Devon and Squires had gone well; very well, in fact, and Willow wondered if she would sleep with him. Not yet. She reminded herself of the danger of falling into bed with a man too quickly, and then she pushed Merritt from her mind.

Richard’s wealth was comfortable, not excessive. It was well rooted in tradition, and the crests of three European Royals on his jewellery boxes gave him class. His family had an apartment in Paris, an apartment in New York and a villa in Anguilla, which Willow liked saying in her head as she ran around St James’s Park.

In some ways, it was nice to be back in the city and in the social circuit. Richard had wined her and dined her in London. She had been careful to keep him away from the house and from the children. She met him at his office mostly; that way it still felt like business and not romance. Richard, though, had other ideas, and she didn’t mind being wooed. Kerr had been hopeless at wooing, she remembered. She had been bewitched by his rock star lifestyle and his coolness. Now he seemed a bit tryhard and desperate.

Merritt? Well, he was the salt of the earth. The only wooing he did was to coax his flowers into bloom.

Richard was the opposite: flowers, candy, gifts, notes, phone calls. If she wasn’t such a bitter bitch she might have even enjoyed it, she thought.

What she did enjoy was the flights to Paris on his private plane. The suite all to herself at the Crillon for the launch of the campaign starring her. The photo shoot with yards of Dior lace and perfect hair. Yes, it was good to be back, she thought, and the work offers were rolling in.

An independent film with superstar Jack Reynolds was on the table, as was an action franchise playing the love interest. It wasn’t an interesting role, but it offered a percentage of the backend, which would give Willow the financial security she desired.

And so would Richard, she thought, as she felt the diamonds cold against her skin. It was time to be practical after all. Could she really have lived in a ramshackle Gothic house in the middle of nowhere?

In the back of Richard’s Mercedes, as they were driven to the British Fashion Council’s party for Fashion Week, she tried to imagine how Merritt would fare at an event like this. Why did he keep popping back into her mind? she wondered. She had enough going on with Janis and Alan staying at the house; it was chaotic.

Lucy’s schedule kept Willow in the public eye but not hankering for attention. Lucrative deals negotiated with photo agencies meant that Willow’s carefully constructed image was back in the magazines and on the internet. Photos of her doing the kindergarten run with Lucian and Poppy. Pushing Jinty in the baby swing, walking with her parents through the streets or St James’s Park.

Janis and Alan had stepped up as parents and Willow was beginning to see another side to them. Less self-involved and more present, the relationship had changed, with Willow allowing Janis to see her vulnerable side and Janis and Alan allowing themselves to be grandparents for the first time.

Janis liked to look over the pictures of herself in the magazines. ‘I look fat in this one,’ she would say, and Willow would try not to laugh at this woman who worried about what her weight looked like in a photo but refused to see that multicoloured rave pants with fluorescent yellow stripes, bought at a street market in London, were unflattering.

Arriving at the party, Willow and Richard stood on the red carpet outside and allowed themselves to be photo-graphed together for the first time.

Willow smiled. F*ck you, Merritt, f*ck you, Kerr, she thought, and she put her hand into Richard’s. He looked at her in surprise. He had tried to make a move on Willow last week and she had begged off with a headache; this was the furthest he had got with her yet. Proud of himself he smiled broadly for the camera, his slightly receding hairline showing off his forehead, shining in the spotlights.

Richard was more attractive because of his connections and his name and he knew it, so he went after women who wanted what he had to offer. Women who wanted to be not necessarily happy but wealthy for the rest of their lives. He knew of Willow’s financial woes – Kerr’s lawyer talked in the spa at the health club and Richard’s lawyer repeated everything to Richard over lunch at The Wolseley.

Willow was just what he wanted. Elegant, glamorous, not talented enough to be a threat but beautiful enough to wear the Devon and Squires products with the chicness they required. The lack of sex between them didn’t worry him; he had his whores for that. He liked sex with prostitutes: they were easier, less complicated and always ready to do what he asked. He saw no shame in it, just as his father and grandfather before hadn’t.

He watched Willow as she was interviewed by a blonde with huge breasts wearing a fur hat. Willow was all charm and generosity. Yes, she would do nicely, he thought. The children weren’t too much of a problem; he had been raised by nannies and he was fine, he thought to himself. Willow had mentioned a nanny and her mother – clearly she understood child raising was a job to be outsourced at all possible times.

Richard knew the pressure was on him to bring a new heir into the company. He was thirty-six years old and single. His mother, Magdalena, had told him in no uncertain terms that his responsibility was to manage the company affairs, keep Devon and Squires’s name clean and shiny, and procreate.

Hopefully Willow would like more children, he thought, as he watched her sip her champagne and listen to a dinner guest drone on. She caught his eye and he smiled at her and made a face as though he was bored. She laughed a little.

Later when they danced to Michael Bublé, whom Willow despised but Richard loved, he asked her if she thought she had more children in her future. Willow, a little drunk, told him that she would sooner stab herself in the eye with a pencil than have more children.

Richard made sure she got home safely under the care of his driver. He had his secretary return her calls over the next two weeks and finally she got the message. He had his hookers for sex, but he needed a wife and an heir. Willow wasn’t right, he decided.

Eight weeks later he announced his engagement to Ingrid, a model and the ex-girlfriend of a Swedish tennis champion. Beautiful and malleable, she was perfect for Richard and guaranteed to be knocked up within the year.

Willow wasn’t devastated. Actually she was partly relieved.

‘Did you see the papers?’ asked Lucy when the announcement came out.

‘Yes, I saw it,’ answered Willow.

‘You OK?’

‘Fine. I don’t really care; nothing happened between us,’ said Willow truthfully.

‘Well, I think your contract is safe for at least this year,’ said Lucy, ‘but I will start looking for something else just in case.’

Willow put down the phone and sighed. Working was such a chore, she thought. For the first time she wanted to be at home with the children, pottering in the small garden that she had set up with them. She tried not to think of Merritt but it was impossible. Poppy chattered on about him endlessly and now Lucian’s voice had been located he too piped up with his name occasionally. Jinty was walking everywhere and Willow was waiting for the magical ‘Merritt’ word to spring forth from her any day.

The ghosts of Middlemist were everywhere, she thought, as she looked out over the pots of parsley and basil, just beginning to seed.