The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE




Merritt was knee deep in the renovation of Middlemist. Having realised early on that he couldn’t do it all, he had hired an interior designer whose number he found in the Yellow Pages.

‘I have so many ideas,’ said Harriet the interior designer, wearing too much lipstick in a shade of red that clashed with her red curls. So far in her burgeoning career, since leaving Laura Ashley to start her own company she had done a few country sitting rooms and three kitchens.

‘No ideas,’ said Merritt gruffly. ‘Everything you need is in here,’ he said, and he shoved Willow’s lined notebook at her.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, opening it up.

‘Your ideas,’ said Merritt. ‘I want everything done as specified in this book, and if you come across any areas that aren’t in the book, then do what you think the person in this book would do. OK?’

He was so forceful she didn’t dare argue with him. She leafed through the pictures. ‘Can I add my own little accents?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Do you want the job or not?’ he asked impatiently, watching the digger move towards the pond.

Harriet paused. A house like this could make her career; she could be the next Nina Campbell or Tricia Guild or even Laura Ashley. She nearly crossed herself at the thought of her inspiration’s name.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said quickly, just to make him get away from her.

Merritt stomped off to review the clearing of the pond. As he watched them drain it and clear away a hundred years’ worth of debris from the bottom, he saw a glint of yellow in the mud. He reached down and picked it up. ‘Sophie,’ he said to himself.

It was Sophie, Jinty’s yellow rubber giraffe that she had lost. She must have dropped it in the pond when she was out in the stroller with Kitty or Willow. They had spent hours looking for it when she cried for her ‘Ophie’.

He walked to the tap, rinsed it off and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket, and then he went back to the pond.

The weeks passed. Ivo had moved out after the auction. Merritt had returned from London to find him gone, leaving only a note.

Thanks for everything Merritt. Sorry I can’t come up with a nickname for you. I appreciate your hospitality and friendship. I’ll let you know about the books.

Ivo

P.S. Tell Kitty I’m sorry.

Merritt was sad to see Ivo leave, but he was too busy with the house to be lonely. His days started early and finished late. It was a full-time job overseeing the renovations and the restoration. Artisans were brought in to paint the decorative iron gates, replace some of the walls in the gardens and match the Minton tiles in the orangery.

It was arduous and endless, and every day Merritt thought about Willow and the children. They were with him when he approved the paint in the bedroom and when he planted one hundred orange, lemon and clementine trees.

Kitty came down with Harold to visit.

‘I have to see how this old dame is coping with her facelift,’ said Harold as he alighted from his car.

‘She seems to be doing OK,’ said Merritt, looking up at the elaborate scaffolding around the house.

‘Wow,’ said Kitty as she walked inside. ‘It looks so different already. It looks cleaner.’ She laughed.

‘Two hundred years of dust,’ laughed Merritt. ‘Who knew there were actually ornate carvings under there?’

Merritt took Kitty and Harold on a tour of the house and garden and took pride in their exclamations. ‘You have done her proud,’ said Harold.

‘Yes, she will look beautiful,’ agreed Kitty.

Merritt thought for a moment how beautiful Kitty looked. More than her clothes, which looked new, he thought, looking at her soft leather bag, but she seemed more confident than he had ever seen her.

They ate lunch in the orangery, the glass replaced and the new trees surrounding them. It was lovely in the autumn sun. Harold entertained Kitty and Merritt with his stories about his films and his hopes for the one he was yet to make. Merritt found him inspiring, and Kitty was clearly as entranced as he was. Merritt understood why Kitty was spending time in Harold’s world. It was a place of beauty and wit, where troubles could be put to rest over a fine cup of Assam tea and Scottish shortbread.

Finally it was time to leave as the sun dipped in the distance. Kitty held on to Merritt for a long time. ‘Come to London soon,’ she ordered in his ear.

‘Maybe,’ he said.

Harold shook his hand enthusiastically. ‘You have done and are doing a wonderful thing, Merritt,’ he said. ‘Houses like these deserve to be lived in with families, generations pounding the stairs. I know Kitty said that Willow is no longer in your life – a shame by the way – but keep looking. Fill the house with children and noise, Merritt; she wants it.’

‘Who?’ asked Merritt, confused. Did he mean Willow? he wondered.

‘The house, darling; the house wants it,’ said Harold.

Merritt smiled at Harold. ‘I will definitely try,’ he said as he waved them back to London. He walked inside Middlemist. The house did deserve a family using it. He was loath to put all this work in, only for the National Trust to have people wandering through it pointing and stealing treasures.

He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling, at the lions in the corners of the roof with their newly fitted lights. Yes, he thought, Middlemist needed people to live in it. And he made his decision.