The Perfect Retreat Page 0,61

with me. I am incapable of anything except a goodnight handshake and will be wearing some sort of passion killer nightgown, as you English say, but if you are interested knock twice.

Love

Willow

Merritt pulled on a pair of his father’s pyjama trousers, even though he usually slept naked. He figured that he should make the effort since Willow had told him sex was off the menu.

He knocked twice softly at her door. Willow opened it and stood there wearing a knee-length flannel nightgown, a pair of aqua bedsocks and her hair pulled up in a messy bun on her head. Merritt thought she had never looked more real or lovelier.

‘This is me,’ she said, gesturing to her bed wear.

‘Hello me,’ said Merritt, and held his hand out for her to shake it.

Willow smiled at him and pointed to his pyjama trousers. ‘No top?’

‘Yes, well, I’ve had to pull these from the dark and a top might be asking too much. I didn’t want you to think I was after anything more than a handshake. And maybe a little spooning.’ His eyes were dancing. Willow laughed and then pulled him inside and shut the door.

Merritt went and stood by the bed. ‘Right or left side?’ he asked.

‘Left.’

‘Good. Can I look at this book?’

‘Yes, if you want to learn about Victorian occult practices.’

‘I do actually. Do they have a money spell?’

‘Probably. They seem to have a spell for everything,’ Willow said as she got into bed and applied hand cream, her evening ritual every night.

Merritt flicked through the book and Willow checked her phone for messages.

It was easy and domestic and something neither of them had experienced before. They both found they rather liked it, but they didn’t say anything to each other.

Merritt settled into the bed, thumping his pillow. ‘Night night.’

Willow reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. ‘Night Merritt.’

And they slept solidly for eight hours, and when they woke they made love, slowly, the type that is best for the morning. When you know you have all day ahead of you and you’re lazy in your movements and you don’t quite want to wake up.

Then the children came into the room and Kitty tried to usher them out but somehow they all ended up in bed – Poppy with a book, Lucian with Custard and Jinty with a packet of sultanas – and Merritt had never felt happier. He looked across the bed at Willow, who was being force fed sultanas by Jinty while trying to read to Poppy, and Lucian was dancing Custard on Merritt’s feet, and he was overwhelmed.

‘He’s a fool you know,’ he said.

‘Who?’ asked Willow, as she shifted Jinty off her hip bone.

‘The man who chose not to be in this bed at this moment with all of this,’ he said, as Custard danced on his head.

Willow looked at the mess of feet and blankets and toys. ‘Perhaps it’s not for everyone,’ she said diplomatically.

‘Well, it’s for me,’ muttered Merritt under his breath.

‘Sorry? I didn’t hear you,’ said Willow, pulling a sultana from her ear.

‘Nothing,’ said Merritt.

Poppy leaned over and said loudly in Willow’s ear, ‘He said, “It’s for me”.’

Merritt felt himself colouring and Willow said nothing, afraid to show her hand, and Poppy watched them both, wondering why they didn’t say what they wanted. Like the time she told Tilly at the park she liked her doll better than hers and Tilly agreed and they swapped and neither nanny noticed. It was easy and all they did was tell each other the truth.

Poppy folded her arms. ‘Mewwitt?’

‘Yes Poppy?’

‘Do you love my Mummy?’ she asked, in her queer transatlantic accent.

Merritt paused. He could feel Willow stiffen in the bed, waiting for his reply.

‘Well Poppy, that’s a big question for a little girl,’ he said, stalling for time.

‘Poppy, don’t ask Merritt such personal things. I am sure he is quite fond of all of us,’ she said, her heart sinking a little.

Merritt listened to the quaver in Willow’s voice when he heard her answer Poppy, and he decided to lay his cards on the table.

‘Actually Poppy, I’m more than fond of you all,’ he said.

‘What’s morethanfond?’ asked Poppy, pronouncing it as one word.

‘I love you all,’ he said, and Willow stared ahead, wondering what he meant and in what way, and she wanted to scream at the children to leave the room so she could question Merritt with a flashlight in his eyes, but she said nothing.

‘I love you Mewwitt,’ said Poppy solemnly.

‘I love you too, Poppy.’

Jinty