The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT




Merritt sat in the private viewing gallery that overlooked the auction room. The crowd was swelling and he could hear the hum from below. Kitty had joined him for the auction, as had Ivo, which shocked her when she walked into the room.

‘Why is he here?’ she hissed to Merritt, but before he could explain Henry walked in.

‘So you’re the Kitty I’ve heard about,’ said Henry, shaking her hand.

Kitty smiled. ‘What has Merritt told you?’ she asked shyly.

‘Not Merritt, Ivo,’ said Henry smiling. ‘I understand you have tamed the beast.’

Kitty looked at Ivo in surprise; he was looking back at her, his face flushed. She ignored his gaze.

‘Well, I’m afraid the beast is back in the wild,’ she said, and turned her back on them both.

Henry looked at her in surprise and Ivo mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to him. He had hoped that the excitement of the auction and the anticipation of a potential sale would soften her resolve, but he was mistaken, it seemed.

Kitty held the catalogue. She had had a private viewing with Merritt before the catalogue was released, and together they had chosen a painting each that they loved.

Kitty had chosen a painting of a small child reading a book on a chair in a garden. An auspicious omen, she thought, and Merritt had hugged her when he saw her choice.

‘How’s the reading going?’ he had asked.

‘It’s good actually. My teacher is so nice, and I’m not as bad as I thought I was. Some of it got through apparently. I have dyslexia, so she has this whole method that’s not what they teach kids – it’s designed for adults. It works, but it’s slow,’ she had said.

‘And how’s Harold?’ Merritt had asked, still concerned about her landlord.

‘He’s lovely. I’m really enjoying staying there actually. It will be hard to leave,’ said Kitty.

‘When will that be?’ asked Merritt.

‘I don’t know yet,’ Kitty had said vaguely.

‘You know you can always come back to Middlemist,’ Merritt had said, his arm still around her.

‘I know, but I don’t really feel like it’s my home now,’ said Kitty. ‘For the first time I’m enjoying London. There’s so much to do and see. I hope you’re not too lonely by yourself.’

Merritt had said nothing, promising Ivo he wouldn’t tell her where he was living until after the auction.

Merritt had chosen a spectacular piece. It was of Clementina in the orangery with three of her five children surrounding her and a white peacock in the background. It was romantic and beautiful, filled with lace and satin ribbons and love.

Kitty looked at it and then turned to Merritt. ‘Have you heard from her?’ she asked.

‘Who?’ asked Merritt.

‘You know who,’ said Kitty, making a face. ‘I may not be able to read, but I’m not stupid.’

Merritt shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that ship has sailed,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I saw she’s dating some Hollywood actor now. She had dinner with him and Rose Nightingale the other night. I saw it in the papers.’

‘Didn’t you do Rose Nightingale’s garden in LA?’ asked Kitty.

‘Yeah,’ said Merritt with his arms crossed.

‘Do you think they talked about you?’ asked Kitty.

‘I doubt it,’ said Merritt. ‘I’m sure they have better things to talk about than a gardener.’

Now they sat in a row, Merritt between Kitty and Ivo, as the auction began. The auctioneer went through the history of George Middlemist and the discovery of the paintings, but Kitty didn’t listen. She flipped through the catalogue distractedly, wondering what the hell Ivo was doing spoiling her and Merritt’s special moment.

Ivo kept glancing at her throughout the auctioneer’s spiel, but she didn’t acknowledge him, although she kept glancing back whenever he wasn’t looking. He looked good, she admitted to herself. Healthy, a bit of colour in his cheeks, and he had put on a little weight, which he needed. He looked handsome, and she hated him for it.

The auction started and so did the bidding. The first piece sold for sixty-five thousand pounds, and Merritt jumped up.

‘That’s the new wiring!’ he cried.

And they were off and running. Every painting sold, and each time Merritt called out a new part of the house that would be able to be fixed.

‘Twenty-five thousand pounds, that’s the glass in the orangery.’

Merritt’s excitement was infectious, and she danced with him when one of the larger pieces sold for over one hundred thousand pounds. Ivo stood up, and she stopped in front of him as Merritt put her down from his bear hug. She sat down, ignoring him but catching the pained look on his face.

Ivo bent over and whispered in Merritt’s ear, then looked over at Kitty who kept her eye on the auction. Merrittturned and nodded to him and made a sorrowed face.

Kitty watched Ivo leave in the reflection of the mirrored glass. She saw him pause at the door and then walk away, but she kept her head held high as the auction drew to a close.

Henry watched the board and turned to them. ‘That’s it!’ he cried. ‘Over a million pounds.’

Merritt sat with his head in his hands and Kitty sat stunned. ‘Oh Merritt, it’s amazing. Well done!’ she cried.

‘I have to go and sort out the details and paperwork,’ said Henry. ‘I’ll have champagne sent up to you.’

Merritt turned to Kitty. ‘I can’t spend it all on the house. I’ll split it with you,’ he said suddenly.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Kitty sternly. ‘You want to do the house up and you should. I don’t care about money, I never have. You know that,’ she said.

‘But it’s so much money, and you don’t even want to live there,’ he said, his eyes glassy.

‘I know, but things will work out, won’t they?’ said Kitty. ‘I don’t know what the future will bring to either of us but I’m happy to not know for a while. Middlemist deserves to be brought back from its malaise,’ she said.

‘Malaise?’ asked Merritt, laughing a little.

‘Harold uses it,’ said Kitty, blushing. ‘Did I use it in the right way?’

‘Yes, I think you did,’ said Merritt.

‘I can do it up and sell it, perhaps,’ he said.

‘Perhaps,’ said Kitty. ‘Who knows?’

Merritt opened the champagne that a staff member had brought in to them and poured her a glass.

‘To Middlemist.’ She smiled.

They drank and then Merritt raised his glass again. ‘One more toast,’ he said.

Kitty looked at him expectantly.

‘To Ivo,’ he said finally.

‘Ivo? Why? Why was he even here? He ruined everything,’ she said angrily.

‘Oh Kits. You’re wrong,’ said Merritt, tired of keeping secrets. If Ivo wouldn’t tell her then he would have to.

‘Ivo is the reason we are here now. He found the paintings, Kits. He did. We owe him everything.’