The Perfect Retreat Page 0,69

silent as her mind raced.

Harold smiled benevolently at her, reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a card. ‘I hear you most days, I just never want to interrupt; you seem so hard working,’ he said.

Kitty nodded at him, somewhat pleased that someone had noticed how much she was trying.

‘If you’re ever in London, I know a wonderful voice coach who specialises in working with dyslexic actors. I can set up an appointment with her if you like.’

Kitty blushed. Dyslexic. ‘No, I’m not dyslexic.’ I’m just stupid, she thought.

‘Oh right then,’ said Harold, sitting down beside her. ‘You don’t mind do you?’ he said, gesturing to the bench. Kitty shook her head, afraid of being rude.

‘So, the problem is what then? You can read but you need help with the sounds? Or you can’t make out the symbols?’ he asked.

Kitty sighed. ‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ she said to the kindly man in his odd getup.

‘It will be kept in confidence absolutely,’ said Harold gravely.

‘I can learn most of the letters; it’s putting them together. My eyes get fuzzy, almost.’

‘Yes, that’s dyslexia my dear,’ said Harold. ‘You know, there are many famous people who have it.’

Kitty looked at him. ‘Who?’

‘Da Vinci, Picasso,’ Harold said.

Kitty looked unimpressed, so Harold thought back to the actors he knew of and had worked with. ‘Keanu Reeves, Keira Knightley, Orlando Bloom. Those names ring any bells?’

‘Really?’ asked Kitty, incredulous.

‘Really. They just need help with their scripts; doesn’t affect their ability to act at all.’

‘I love Keira Knightley,’ said Kitty dreamily.

‘She’s a doll isn’t she? And so clever. So, so clever,’ said Harold as he stood up. ‘Let me know if you get to London, yes?’ he asked.

Kitty stood up and impulsively kissed Harold on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and Harold laughed. If I were ten years younger, he thought, but he had seen how Ivo chased her. She was meant for another, he thought as he walked away.

The conversation with Harold was soon forgotten by Kitty though. Her obsession was with Ivo and his lack of advances. It was made worse by watching Merritt and Willow playing happy families. Kitty was jealous and happy for them at the same time, and she tried to give them time together when she wasn’t working with Ivo on her reading. So desperate was she to learn to read so she and Ivo could concentrate on other things, that she practised whenever she could, with Poppy and Lucian as her unwilling students.

Kitty was walking outside in the driveway practising her sounds under her breath when a young woman pulled up in a battered Golf.

‘Excuse me – I’m looking for Willow,’ said the girl.

‘Um, she’s in the house,’ said Kitty, and she kept on walking, saying her sounds aloud.

Actor wankers and their vocal warmups, thought Lucy as she kept driving towards the house.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she said as she pulled up and parked in front of Middlemist.

A man rounded the corner pushing a wheelbarrow with a small blonde girl on top of a pile of dirt. ‘Hello,’ said the little girl brightly.

‘Hello,’ responded Lucy.

‘Can I help you?’ asked Merritt warily. Willow had said she had seen a few ‘papanazis’ around, as she and Kitty called them, and he was careful with the children around strangers.

‘Yes please. I’m Lucy, I work for Willow. Is she around?’

‘Oh hi, Lucy. I’m Merritt,’ he said. ‘And this is Poppy.’

‘Hello Poppy,’ she said again, and Poppy smiled at her. Lately her behaviour was improving and gone was the rude, brattish child that had once inhabited Poppy; instead a happy, smiling, funny little girl replaced her.

‘I’ll get her for you,’ said Merritt. He went to the front door and poked his head through. ‘Willow?’ he yelled, and he looked at Lucy. ‘Come in then; she’s upstairs changing the beds,’ he said, and Lucy looked at him shocked.

She stood in the foyer and waited till Willow appeared at the top of the stairs, in jeans and an old t-shirt of Merritt’s with the name of a local plant nursery on the back.

‘Hey,’ called Willow, and she jumped down the stairs. She looked amazing, thought Lucy; calm and natural and happy.

‘Hey yourself,’ said Lucy. ‘I have to come and organise you for tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Sign the papers and all that.’

‘Cuppa tea?’ asked Merritt as he padded into the foyer in his socks, having left his work boots by the front door.

‘Lovely,’ said Willow. She and Merritt drank endless cups of tea, and she still