The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE




Kitty sat with Lavender. ‘My god, she’s got it,’ said Lavender in her best Henry Higgins voice as Kitty read out the sentence in front of her. She placed down another card and Kitty paused to look at it.

‘Is the train on time?’ she said in a confident voice.

‘Oh yes, she’s got it,’ said Lavender again, smiling. Kitty jumped up. ‘I do have it, I do! I know what it feels like to read. It’s amazing!’ she cried. ‘You are amazing.’

‘No, you are amazing,’ said Lavender firmly.

‘No, it’s all you,’ argued Kitty, her eyes filled with tears.

‘You have practised hard, and you’ve worked at it with Harold, and you had a good foundation to start with. Things were there but you had forgotten and lost your confidence,’ said Lavender. ‘You need to thank your friend for the initial work they did with you, because it made all the difference.’

Kitty sat down, thinking of Ivo. She wanted to say things to him but she didn’t know where to start. She was beginning to understand, now, what he had done when he told the room at Middlemist about her not being able to read.

Lavender looked at her star pupil. ‘Homework for this week.’

‘Yes,’ said Kitty, waiting for the instructions from her teacher. She was a diligent student, committed to ensuring she excelled for her own sake as well as because she didn’t want to waste Lavender’s time.

‘I want you to write a letter,’ said Lavender. ‘Doesn’t have to be long, but it has to be heartfelt; and to someone who has been there for you through this journey.’

Kitty nodded.

‘And post it to them. OK?’ ordered Lavender.

Kitty agreed and walked back to Harold’s house. She thought about who to write to. Merritt, she decided, and she started writing the letter in her head as she made her way home.

By the time she had arrived at Harold’s front door, she had chosen her words. She rushed upstairs, opened the desk and pulled out the stationery. This would have to do, she thought, and she sucked on the pen and started to write.

To Ivo,

I am verry sory I was horid to you. I have bean doing reading and writing lesons and I think I am doing quiet well. I have to write to some one who helpd me and I was going to write to Merritt but then you poped into my head. I was awful to you. I know and I hop you will forgiv me one day.

I think about you all day. You mad me feel smart and you were patiant with me.

I am greatful and think you are so clevr. Merritt told me abut the paintings and he has used the mony to fix the house.

What you tught me helped and my teacher said it made all the diffrnce. I knew more than I thoght. I know more now abut many things.

I wuld like to be frinds maybe, if you can forgiv me, I hope so.

Yors,

Katinka Iris Clementina Ceres Middlemist

(Kitty)

She wrote Ivo’s name on the front of the envelope, but realised she had no idea where he lived before she had got round to sealing it. She walked upstairs and saw Harold in his usual place in front of the television screens. The screen was paused on Willow and Ivo in an embrace.

‘Hello,’ she said, trying not to look at the screen.

‘Hello Katinka,’ said Harold, not looking at her. ‘How was your lesson?’

‘Good actually. I had to write a letter,’ she said.

‘Oh wonderful! The art of letter writing is becoming lost,’ said Harold, turning around to face her.

‘To whom did you write?’ he asked.

Kitty looked embarrassed. ‘I wrote to Ivo but I don’t know his address,’ she said, holding out the envelope. ‘Can you check the spelling? Lavender said it had to be heartfelt.’

Harold took the envelope and opened the letter. He read it quietly and then looked up at her. ‘It’s perfect and heartfelt.’

‘And the spelling? Is it OK?’

‘You have spelt the words as they sound, and that is good enough. It’s a wonderful letter Kitty; send it,’ he said, leaning back in his chair.

‘But send to where? I don’t know where he lives,’ she said sadly.

‘His last name is Casselton and his father went to Harrow. There are some Casseltons who live up in Middlesex – I think you might find it is them,’ said Harold. ‘Wait a minute, I’ll find the address.’ He turned to his computer and typed into Google. Picking up the cordless phone he dialled the number on the screen from the directory. ‘Hello, is Ivo there?’

There was a long pause, and then, ‘No?’ Kitty’s heart sank. She had hoped Harold would be right about Ivo’s address.

‘Oh lovely, I have some post of his. I will send it on then. Thank you,’ said Harold, and he hung up the phone.

‘That was his mother; sounds dreadfully posh. She said to send it over and she will ensure Ivo receives it,’ said Harold, proud of his detective work.

‘Can you write the address please? I don’t want it getting lost,’ she asked shyly, and Harold scribbled down the address on the envelope and handed it to her with the letter.

‘Seal it with a kiss,’ he instructed, and Kitty rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t roll your eyes, it’s an awful habit,’ said Harold tartly and Kitty laughed at him as she ran down the stairs to her desk.

Having stuck a stamp to the envelope, she put on her coat and headed outside into the cold air to post her precious missive. She stood at the postbox and waited till the person in front had posted their enormous bag of Christmas cards. Finally they left. Kitty’s hands were getting cold. She held the letter to her mouth, kissed the back and then slipped it into the box.

‘You can’t take it back now,’ she thought as she walked away.

Christmas was coming, and she had plans to spend it with Harold and Merritt at Harold’s house. Middlemist still wasn’t finished and Merritt said there was no way they could have Christmas there with the water off – the new plumbing was being installed.

The house would be done by the end of January, he told her, and Kitty wondered what he would do then. Would he live there? Let it? She didn’t know. He seemed preoccupied more than usual lately when she rang him.

Kitty returned to hear the phone ringing, and she knew Harold wouldn’t answer it. ‘Harold Gaumont’s residence,’ she said as she slipped off her coat in the warm sitting room.

‘Hello, it’s Lucy, Willow Carruthers’s assistant,’ said the voice down the line.

Kitty sat down on the chair next to her. ‘Hi Lucy, it’s Kitty.’

‘Oh Kitty, how wonderful to hear your voice. How are you?’ gushed Lucy warmly. She had liked Kitty the few times she had met her and Willow had spoken so well of her. She was sorry things had ended so badly between the two of them.

‘Fine,’ said Kitty anxiously.

‘Are you working for Harold?’ asked Lucy.

‘Sort of,’ she said vaguely.

‘Tell me, is The Romantics going to Cannes?’

‘I think so. I can get more details from Harold later and phone you back,’ said Kitty. ‘He said something about some stairs and opening night.’

‘Wonderful. Willow has another project lined up and I am just working out schedules,’ said Lucy.

‘Oh,’ said Kitty at the sound of Willow’s name. ‘How are the children?’ she asked finally after a pause.

‘They are wonderful. Lucian’s getting great help and has a few words,’ said Lucy.

‘That’s great; really great,’ said Kitty, her eyes filling up with tears. ‘I have to go. I’ll call you later,’ said Kitty, and she hung up quickly.

Lucy sat in her home office looking at the phone. She picked it up again.

‘Willow? Hi. I’ve found her. She’s at Harold’s. Yes. You want the number? OK, got a pen?’

Willow picked up the phone and although it was the middle of the night in LA, she felt wide awake. She knew what she had to do to make it right. She dialled the number and heard Kitty’s voice on the other end of the line.

‘Kitty, it’s Willow. Don’t hang up, I have to say something.’ Willow took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry. I am so incredibly sorry for everything. I was selfish and awful and ugly and vile. You don’t have to forgive me, but I hope you can one day. You treated my children better than I ever did and what you taught Lucian really helped him. I wish I had known about your reading problems, and I wish I could have helped. I’m a different person now – you helped me become that, but I hope not at your detriment. You are a wonderful person, Kitty, and you deserve more than working for me and I truly hope you move forward and find something that you can put all your wonderful skills into.’ Willow waited, she could hear Kitty breathing on the other end of the phone.

‘How is Jinty? Walking yet?’ she asked, and Willow felt a flood of relief at the question.

‘Yes, and into everything.’

‘And Poppy?’ asked Kitty.

‘Hilarious! She loves nursery,’ said Willow. ‘She likes the dress-up box.’

‘I can imagine,’ Kitty laughed.

‘And Lucian’s talking a little now; each day he gets more confident.’

‘That’s great Willow,’ said Kitty truthfully. She was thrilled the children were happy, and it was good that Willow apologised.

‘How’s Merritt?’ asked Willow casually.

‘Busy,’ said Kitty, thoughtfully.

‘I’m sure. Please send him my love,’ said Willow. ‘I would like to say sorry to him also but I don’t think he would take my call,’ she said. Kitty wasn’t sure if the phone line was breaking up or Willow’s voice was cracking. She frowned.

‘Write a letter,’ Kitty said suddenly.

‘What?’ asked Willow.

‘Write a letter to him. Make it heartfelt and don’t worry about the spelling. Just say it as it’s meant to be said,’ she instructed firmly.

Willow sat thinking. ‘I will. Thanks Kitty.’

‘No problem,’ said Kitty smiling.

‘I’m back in London soon. Will you come and see the children? Have a cup of tea with me? I’ve stopped drinking coffee; I am a true Englishwoman now.’ She laughed.

‘I will. I would like to,’ said Kitty, and just before she hung up she spoke again quickly. ‘Willow?’

‘Yes?’ came the careful reply.

‘I forgive you,’ she said, and she meant it. Christmas was about forgiveness after all, she thought as she looked at Harold’s immaculately decorated pine tree, covered in cupids. Christmas cupids, she thought as she went upstairs. Only Harold would have such a thing.