The Perfect Retreat (15 page)

‘Thanks for the advice,’ said Ivo.

‘No problem. Any time you need a hand with anything let me know. It’s good to have a mentor when one is new. I would have been lost without Larry when I started out,’ said Thornton in his cut-glass accent.

‘Larry?’ asked Ivo.

‘Larry Olivier!’ exclaimed Thornton.

‘Of course,’ said Ivo, trying to remember who Larry Olivier was and wondering if he was still around to coach him when he saw Willow walking towards them.

‘Hello love,’ said Thornton, and kissed her on both cheeks.

‘Hi darling,’ she said. ‘How’s James?’ she asked.

‘Heavenly,’ said Thornton. ‘Now how are you?’ he asked, his face serious.

‘OK. It’s good to be working,’ said Willow.

‘Well if that is the panacea you need, then do it. Idle hands are the devil’s work and all that,’ said Thornton.

Ivo tried to walk away without being noticed, but Thornton grabbed his arm. ‘Have you met Ivo properly?’ he asked Willow.

‘No, not formally,’ she said to Thornton, and she turned to Ivo and put out her hand.

‘Willow Carruthers.’

‘Ivo Casselton.’

‘Thornton, they need you in costume,’ said Jenny as she walked up to the group.

‘Oh dear, I think I need to stay off the cake or the
waistcoats
won’t fit me,’ laughed Thornton, and he handed his plate of cake to Ivo and walked away with Jenny.

‘Thank you for not mentioning what you saw on the terrace,’ said Willow, formally. ‘Thornton’s a bit of a gossip I’m afraid. I know him through mutual acquaintances.’

‘No problem. Thanks for not mentioning my lecherous behaviour earlier.’ He laughed and Willow found herself smiling at the young man. His energy and intensity during the reading was exciting, and she knew they would have a good chemistry on screen.

‘So we’re lovers,’ he said.

‘Pardon?’

‘In the film,’ said Ivo.

‘Yes, we are,’ said Willow. ‘It’s an amazing script.’

‘Seems like a good yarn,’ said Ivo casually, and Willow looked at him. ‘Have you been in a film before?’ she asked.

‘Nope,’ said Ivo, flushing a little as he munched on Thornton’s orange cake.

‘Really?’ asked Willow. She was surprised at how good he was; he had a natural understanding of the timing and the text. The language in the film wasn’t easy, it was very formal, but Ivo spoke it as though he was a Victorian suitor brought forward in time.

There was an awkward pause between them, Willow thinking about his prodigious talent and Ivo mistaking her silence for disappointment in his skills.

‘It’s an amazing house,’ he said politely to break the silence.

‘Yes, it is.’ How was it so easy for him? thought Willow. His natural talent was something she had worked so hard for, and there he was, like a young Lord Byron.

‘You been here long?’ asked Ivo again.

‘Yes, a few weeks,’ said Willow.

‘Wow, then you must know the girl who owns the house,’ said Ivo excitedly.

‘What?’ asked Willow, confused.

‘The girl who owns the house. I met her this morning, she mentioned a brother too. Any chance you can introduce me?’ asked Ivo.

‘Kitty? You mean Kitty?’ asked Willow.

‘Is that her name? Kitty.’ Ivo rolled it over his tongue and smiled wickedly at Willow. ‘She’s bloody stunning.’

‘She’s also my nanny,’ said Willow sternly.

‘Well, I might have to be a naughty boy then and see if she’ll tell me off,’ said Ivo.

Willow shook her head at him. ‘I have a new name for you,’ she said.

‘What?’ he asked, small crumbs of orange cake at the edges of his beautiful mouth.

‘Ivo the Terrible,’ she said, her voice serious.

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Ivo and he sauntered off, his jeans loose on his slim hips, with the cocky stride of a man who knew he could have everything he wanted and come back for seconds.

Kitty looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She felt ridiculous. The bodice of the dress was pushing her breasts up so high she could practically rest her chin on them, and the bones of the corset were digging into her ribs.

No wonder they carried smelling salts with them everywhere, thought Kitty as she tried to slip on a shoe without bending over.

Harold’s insistence that Kitty and Merritt attend the ball along with a fully costumed crew and cast had Kitty terrified, but at Willow’s insistence she went to the costume department, where racks of dresses ran along the walls of the trailer, and they squeezed Kitty into a sea-green taffeta ball gown with a wide neckline and small bows at the sleeves. The colour enhanced Kitty’s dark features, and while her bobbed hair wasn’t really the style of the day, the hair and makeup girls had pulled it back and pinned a matching hairpiece fashioned into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

As she opened the door, she saw Merritt pacing the hallway. Waiting for Willow, she thought. His handsome face broke into a smile when he saw her. ‘You look amazing Kits,’ he said.

‘Thanks, but it’s bloody uncomfortable,’ she said, sighing.

‘It looks wonderful,’ he said. ‘I might just wait and see if Willow needs help.’

Kitty raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I’m sure she’s able to dress herself,’ she said. ‘Anyway, she’s not in there, she’s being dressed in costume,’ said Kitty. ‘I took the children down there to say goodnight and set them up with the babysitter,’ said Kitty.

‘Oh,’ said Merritt, looking dejected.

He had hardly seen Willow since their kiss in the garden yesterday. She had been held back late by Harold, who had wanted to discuss her and Ivo’s scenes, and they had worked till midnight. Exhausted, she had returned to the house to find Merritt asleep in the drawing room. She had carefully laid a rug over him and crept up to bed, disappointed and relieved. All afternoon Merritt’s kiss had remained in her mind, and the longer she thought about it the less it seemed like a good idea.

Then she had been up early to start shooting and had not even had time to see the children, let alone Merritt.

Merritt pulled at his white bow tie and waistcoat. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, his face suddenly clouded with doubt.

‘I think you look great. This look actually suits you,’ said Kitty. It was true; Merritt’s body shape and height gave him the distinct look of a hero. ‘You should be on the front of a romance novel,’ laughed Kitty.

As they walked downstairs together, Kitty’s pace slowed. ‘Hurry up slow coach,’ said Merritt.

‘Shut up. This dress does not encourage fast movements,’ said Kitty. ‘I have no idea how I’m supposed to dance in this. Do you think they’ll have a DJ?’ she asked.

Merritt laughed, ‘Kits, it’s a formal ball, Victorian style. Harold is filming it for flashbacks in the film or something.’

‘Shit,’ said Kitty, almost standing on the hem of the dress. ‘It sounds boring.’

‘I think it’ll be fun,’ said Merritt, his eyes dancing with enthusiasm. Kitty had never seen him like this before.

‘You’re being weird,’ she said. ‘Are you in love with Willow?’ she burst out.

Merritt spun and looked at her on the stairs. ‘No. Why do you say that?’ he barked.

‘Well, I’ve seen the way you look at her, that’s all,’ she answered honestly.

Merritt continued down the stairs silently.

‘Sorry I brought it up,’ said Kitty quietly.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Merritt, but Kitty’s words rang in his ears. Was he in love with Willow? He hardly knew her, and yet something had sparked in him when Kitty asked him.

As they neared the ballroom they took in the chaos, with Harold on a large crane with a camera and a man to work it. Crew who weren’t in the ball scenes were rushing about with cords and tracks and lighting rigs.

Kitty and Merritt stood to the side, alone, waiting for instructions, while other costumed crew laughed and milled about. Kitty felt very isolated even with Merritt by her side.

Harold’s voice boomed out over a loudspeaker.

‘Thank you. I would like silence please. Tonight it’s vital that we get this right. I have a few requests. Please try and be Victorian; gentlemanly men and feminine women. You may flirt and drink the champagne on offer, but please don’t get drunk and ruin my picture.’

Kitty looked up at Harold, who was wearing a silk turban and headphones as he continued his instructions.

‘I have four cameras set up and I also have hidden cameras around. We have dancers coming who will fill the dance floor, but if you are so moved and can do a basic waltz, then please join them. Be yourselves, only be a better, more refined version. And have fun,’ he ordered.

Music floated out over the speakers and Kitty saw a small group of musicians playing along in the corner of the
ballroom
. Waiters walked about the room in full costume handing out glasses of punch and champagne and Kitty
gratefully
accepted one.

‘You better take small sips,’ said Merritt, looking at her tiny waist in her dress.

‘Good idea,’ she said, and sipped from the glass delicately.

The mirrored doors of the ballroom opened and Merritt stood silent and expressionless as Willow entered the room. Her dress was a copy of an original Charles Worth, the Chanel of his day. In golden yellow silk with beaded crystals catching the light, the dress came down in a low-cut sweetheart
neckline
. Lace hung at her shoulders, gently beaded so as to caress her arms when she danced.

Willow’s long blonde hair was swept into an elegant chignon with matching crystal hairpieces, and her earrings were original Victorian gold and diamond teardrops. Kitty felt her mouth drop open at the sight of her employer in all her splendour, and she turned to Merritt, who seemed equally stunned.

Willow stood patiently as a makeup artist powdered her face and décolletage, and then Harold yelled from his perch in the ballroom’s eaves.

‘Ready when you are!’

Kitty felt nervous although she had no idea why. She wondered if he would be here, and she tried to scan the room without looking desperate.

The dancers were gorgeous to watch, and she eventually forgot to look for the boy with the hooded eyes and sexy mouth. Instead, she watched the colour and movement in the centre of the room.

Willow walked over to Kitty and Merritt and snapped her fan at them. ‘What do you think?’ she asked coyly, and Kitty laughed.

‘You look amazing,’ she answered honestly.

‘It’s so uncomfortable,’ said Willow. ‘I’m trying not to fidget.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Kitty, feeling an itch on her back.

‘You look lovely Kitty,’ said Willow and Merritt nodded.

‘She does look quite the part,’ he said.

‘No compliments for me, Mr Middlemist?’ asked Willow, flirting gently.

Merritt felt his face redden.

‘There are not enough compliments in the world that I could bestow upon you, so instead I will say, “You are
beautiful
”.’ He bowed slightly as he said this and Willow felt her knees weaken. Any resolve she might have had to tell Merritt that their clandestine kiss on the stone bench was a terrible idea disappeared.

Kitty stepped away silently towards the small group next to them.

‘I wanted to see you last night,’ he said in a low voice to Willow.

‘I know. I got caught up,’ said Willow. The space between them was electric, and she held back the desire to pull his face towards her.

They stood side by side, Merritt standing tall in his costume.

‘Do you dance?’ he asked, looking at the floor of spinning petticoats.

‘A little, although not like that,’ said Willow.

The music stopped and the sound of a waltz rang through the ballroom. Merritt bowed towards Willow again. ‘Will you do me the honour of giving me this dance?’ he asked, and Willow looked at him, surprised.

‘I don’t think Harold wants us to dance,’ she said.

‘We shall start, and if he wants us to stop then we will,’ he said, and taking her arm he led her to the edge of the dance floor, and artfully pulled her into his arms as they turned about the floor.

The other dancers looked at them surprised, but continued dancing around them. Willow had never felt more real and alive, even in the midst of the bizarre setting.

‘Imagine living in these times,’ said Willow, ‘so caught up in rules and reputation.’

‘Yes, I couldn’t do it at all,’ said Merritt.

‘You could have fooled me, with all your bowing and manners,’ laughed Willow.

‘Manners are one thing, but the truth is I am having very modern thoughts about you, Miss Carruthers, and none of them would have passed in Victorian times,’ he whispered into her ear. Willow burst out laughing and tried to stop it.

‘I should be shocked at you, Mr Middlemist,’ she said, tapping him on the shoulder lightly with her fan.

‘I hope you are; I want to shock you,’ he growled, and Willow felt desire in every part of her body.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she whispered. ‘You have to stop or I don’t know what I’ll do.’

Merritt held a respectable distance between them as he turned her about the floor, but he looked into her eyes and smiled a little. ‘What would you do, if you could?’ he asked.

‘Everything,’ she whispered.

‘Tell me,’ he demanded, tightening his grip on her back.

Willow felt herself lean against his arms. She felt
lightheaded
and strange.

‘I think I might faint,’ she said, and Merritt spun her out onto the terrace into the cool air.

There was no one else out there yet. Willow clasped the edge of the stone balustrade.

‘Are you OK? Should you sit down?’ asked Merritt, concerned.

Willow tried to draw breath and Merritt stood helplessly. ‘I think I should get someone to help you,’ he said, his voice anxious.

‘I don’t need help,’ she said as she turned to him, her eyes flashing.

‘What I need is for you to kiss me,’ she burst out. ‘I’ve been alone for so long, I forgot what it’s like to be wanted, to be desired again. I want you so much I ache. I know you don’t want some sad, washed-up, broke actress with three kids; I wouldn’t want me. And I know you’re not the marrying kind and you travel the world and are generally fabulous, and you think it’s fun to flirt with me; but you have to understand – I am gone. Lost. The minute you look at me I fall apart. I haven’t felt like this in a long, long time.’