‘How are you, Miss Kitty?’ he asked kindly.
‘I’m OK,’ she said, grinning.
Willow walked down the stairs, but stopped before she reached the end. Standing on the bottom step, she was nearly as tall as Merritt. He looked at her, and Kitty shook her head. ‘Sorry – Willow Carruthers, this is my brother Merritt Middlemist.’
Willow held out her hand for Merritt to take it and plastered a careful smile on her face.
Merritt took her hand and smiled. ‘Hello. Sorry about the language. I thought you were a homeless person who had taken over my house.’
‘I am,’ said Willow simply, and Merritt laughed. He glanced at her, and realised she reminded him of a flower. Which one? he wondered. Her pale face bore a false smile and she was tired; it was as though her bloom had faded. Thin and tall, elegant but brittle. He searched his mind for the plant he was looking for.
Kitty looked at Willow, unsure of what to say next. Willow had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to let anyone know about her financial situation until she had it worked out. Willow had paid her wages for the next eight weeks, but couldn’t promise any more after that until she got back to work.
‘Are you a friend of Kitty’s then?’ he asked.
Kitty laughed nervously. ‘No, Willow’s my boss. I’m her nanny.’
‘Oh great. Good for you,’ said Merritt cheerfully. ‘Is your husband here?’ he inquired politely.
‘No,’ said Willow. ‘I don’t have a husband.’
‘Right then,’ said Merritt, not knowing where to look.
‘I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry,’ said Willow, her face red.
‘Well it’s better to talk about it, I’ve found,’ said Merritt kindly, and he looked at Kitty who smiled gently at him in return.
‘What are you doing back here?’ asked Kitty. ‘I haven’t heard from you in three years!’ she admonished. ‘I would have written to you, but you know …’ her voice trailed off.
‘I know. I didn’t have an address anyway,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a drink. I’m desperate. I stopped at the off-licence and got some tonic and gin and a lemon. I wasn’t sure whether the lemon tree would be kind enough to give me anything after all these years. You up for a G&T?’
‘Yes please,’ said Kitty.
‘Sure,’ said Willow, not sure at all of the giant man with worn hands and curly brown hair in desperate need of a cut.
Willow and Kitty followed Merritt into the kitchen, where he set about making them all drinks. Willow sat in silence as she listened to Kitty and Merritt talk. Their familiar tone with each other, their joking and laughing, was something she had never experienced. She found it captivating.
He set the drinks down in front of them and sat down at the kitchen table. He looked huge on the delicate cane chair, and Willow tried not to stare.
‘So, Willow. What do you do?’ he asked genuinely.
Willow looked at him to see if he was joking but she couldn’t see any amusement in his eyes. ‘I’m an actor,’ she said.
‘Oh great. I love the theatre,’ said Merritt as he sipped his strong G&T.
‘More films actually,’ she said, with an edge to her voice.
‘Right. I don’t see many films. Sometimes I see them on the planes but I never pay much attention. Those headphone things are too small for my head,’ he said ruefully, rubbing his mop of hair.
Kitty laughed. ‘Silly. Willow’s won an Oscar,’ she declared, proud of her boss.
Willow shrugged. She wasn’t proud of her award.
‘Wow, an Oscar. Well done you,’ said Merritt, looking at her carefully. He knew what flower she was now. A Japanese windflower. Tall, fair, elegant. Liable to snap at any minute, he thought, looking at the dark circles under her eyes.
‘You still haven’t told me why you’re back?’ asked Kitty to Merritt.
Merritt turned the glass in his hand. ‘I just thought I should check up on the house. And you, of course.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re back,’ Kitty said happily. ‘How long will you stay?’
‘Not sure yet,’ he said vaguely, ‘I want to get an idea of how things are here, and if the house can be saved or if we should sell.’
‘What do you mean “saved”?’ asked Kitty.
‘Well, it’s in pretty bad shape,’ he said, looking around the old kitchen.
‘I know,’ said Kitty sadly.
The kitchen door opened slightly and the three turned to look. A small face peered through the crack at them. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’ asked Willow.
Poppy walked through the door shyly and looked at Merritt. ‘Who’s him?’ she asked.
‘Who’s that?’ corrected Willow.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Poppy again, more confidently.
‘Hello, I’m Merritt. I’m Kitty’s big brother.’
‘I’m Poppy,’ she said, and stood next to Kitty.
‘Poppy – the flower of magic, beauty and imagination,’ said Merritt.
‘Your name is silly,’ said Poppy, and put her thumb in her mouth.
‘Poppy!’ exclaimed Willow. ‘That’s rude.’
‘No, she speaks the truth,’ laughed Merritt. ‘It’s terrible, I agree, Poppy. It’s a family name. Has Kitty told you her full name yet?’
Willow and Poppy turned expectantly to Kitty. She looked down at the table.
‘Tell us,’ said Willow, not quite believing Kitty had worked for her for three years and she had never known her nanny’s full name.
‘Katinka Iris Clementina Ceres Middlemist,’ she sighed. It was such an awful lot of letters to spell out. It always took her ages to fill in forms, and she had begun to hate it over the years.
Willow looked at her, eyes wide. ‘That’s quite a name,’ she said.
‘I know, I hate it.’
‘So where’s Kitty from?’ asked Willow, as Poppy crawled onto her lap.
‘My mother called me Kitty-Kat as a baby and the Kitty stuck. I much prefer it.’
‘They are all beautiful names though. Katinka Iris Clementina Ceres Middlemist,’ she repeated to herself. ‘How did your parents come to choose those names?’
‘Katinka is a family name – some mad aunt I think. Iris is my mother’s name. Clementina is after my great-great-grandmother and Ceres is the goddess of agriculture and the harvest. Merritt’s full name is Merritt Edward Oswald Middlemist. It sounds like a name for a duck,’ said Kitty.
‘Thanks so much. I shall walk about quacking now.’ He looked at Poppy and gave an almighty quack.
Poppy laughed hysterically and Willow smiled. ‘You have children, Merritt?’
‘No.’
‘You’re so good with them,’ said Willow, watching the adoration in Poppy’s eyes for her new friend. For a brief moment sadness swept over her and she wished Kerr had been able to have fun with the children, with her.
‘Perhaps. Kitty’s the one who children love,’ he said, and Kitty smiled at him. ‘What about your name, Willow?’
‘Ah, I was named after Willa Cather.’
Kitty