be my playhouse,’ she said decidedly, ‘and you two cannot come in unless you ask,’ she said to Jinty and Lucian. Lucian was standing by the window staring ahead over the grounds, watching Merritt in the garden. Jinty was sitting on Kitty’s lap, playing with a long strand of torn velvet.
‘Can I come up here whenever I want?’ asked Poppy.
‘You must ask me first, and I will have to do a scout around to see you can’t get hurt on anything.’
‘OK,’ said Poppy happily.
Kitty placed Jinty on the floor and she promptly pulled herself up to a standing position to continue playing with the velvet strand. Kitty looked around; there was nothing major Poppy could hurt herself with. The windows were too large to lift, so she couldn’t fall out the window. She pushed the easels against the walls so they wouldn’t topple over and lifted one of the trunks down onto the floor to ensure that it too would not fall on Poppy. Looking through the shelves of art supplies, she found some watercolours and paper. She took out a brush and filled up a glass jar with water. ‘Here you go,’ she said to Poppy. She placed the paper on the table and put the bowl next to it. ‘You use them like this,’ and she painted a few strokes for Poppy to see what she was doing.
Poppy snatched the brush out of Kitty’s hand. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, and Kitty looked at her. ‘Don’t snatch, Poppy. And say thank you.’
Poppy turned her head towards Lucian. ‘Lucian needs to go to the toilet,’ she said, and Kitty jumped up. ‘You need to do a wee, Lucian?’ she asked. She took him by the hand, lifted Jinty expertly with one arm, and started down the stairs. ‘Stay there. Don’t paint on anything but the paper and don’t hurt yourself. I’ll be back in a minute,’ she called up.
Poppy smiled as they left. She had no idea if Lucian wanted to go to the toilet, but she always found this the best way to get rid of Kitty or her mother. Poppy looked around the room and sighed with delight. Although she didn’t know the word for it, it felt good to be alone. To have a place where Jinty and Lucian couldn’t come.
She walked over to the trunk that Kitty had moved and examined the strap that was holding it together. It was worn leather, fraying in parts. Poppy wasn’t strong enough to pull it open, so she picked at the leather until it fell apart. Straining at the large lid, she struggled till it fell backwards with a thud. She waited for Kitty to yell out to her, but heard nothing from downstairs.
Peering into the trunk, she saw layers of yellow paper with fabric underneath. Pulling off the paper, Poppy lifted up a hat covered in roses, faded but still pretty. Poppy put it on her head. Digging deeper into the trunk, she found old fans, some broken but some still in good condition. Small shoes and coats. A large petticoat and huge cream dress with lots and lots of buttons and lace.
Poppy pulled everything out of the trunk into the middle of the floor and climbed into the empty space, wearing a pair of the tiny shoes. I could lie down in here, she thought, and she jumped on the box’s floor until she heard a crack. Looking down she saw her foot had gone through the bottom of the trunk, but when she lifted her leg out carefully she couldn’t see the floor below it. She squatted to the side of the hole and picked at the old, splintering wood, lifting up small pieces. Worried about a splinter, which she had had once before, she pulled on one of the kid gloves lying in the heap on the floor and noticed her hand nearly fitted it perfectly.
Once she had both gloves on, Poppy worked furiously until she had made a large hole in the base of the trunk. She slipped her hand in to see if there were any other items underneath. Maybe this is the treasure that Merritt and Kitty talked about, she thought excitedly.
Her gloved hand brushed against something and she gasped as she pulled it out. It was a bundle of letters bound by a pale blue ribbon. Poppy was disappointed; she couldn’t even read yet. She threw them on the floor and continued searching the cavity in the trunk. Next she pulled out a few small leather-bound books. She threw them over with the letters – they were no good either. She put her arm back into the trunk’s false base one last time and stretched her hand as far into the corner as she could. She drew out a small box. Opening it, she found a beautiful ring. It was a large square-cut emerald with small diamonds around it set in silver on a gold band. Next to it lay a gold wedding ring.
Poppy knew she had found the treasure. Not waiting a minute longer, she stood in the doorway and screamed for Kitty in her loudest, most piercing voice.
Kitty, who was still in the bathroom with Jinty and Lucian, heard the cry and panicked. Merritt, who heard from the garden, ran inside in alarm. He and Kitty met on the stairs. ‘Where is she?’ he cried.
‘In the eaves,’ she said breathlessly, trying to run up the stairs with Jinty on her hip and dragging Lucian along behind.
‘The eaves? For fuck’s sake Kitty, that’s not safe!’
‘I thought it was,’ said Kitty crossly as she mounted the top step, and together they reached the door. Poppy greeted them in a Victorian bonnet, kid gloves and beaded dancing shoes.
‘I’ve found the treasure,’ she said proudly, and held out the box to Merritt and Kitty.
Merritt took the box and opened it. ‘Fuck a duck, Kit. She’s found Clementina’s engagement ring.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Willow was nervous. It had been too long since she had spoken to anyone about a film role, and now she had to meet with the director and have a ‘chat’. After her Oscar she could have chosen anyone she wanted to work with, but that didn’t last. Nothing lasts, she thought, thinking of Kerr.
Sitting in her suite at the Dorchester, she decided that if she landed this part then today would be a good day. She had bought clothes specially for the meeting, with Lucy’s approval. Funny how such a dowdy girl could have such good ideas about fashion, she had thought as Lucy had assessed the choices laid out on the bed.
‘Yes to the Yves Saint Laurent. No to the jeans and Chloé top,’ said Lucy knowingly.
‘But the top is so pretty,’ said Willow, touching the delicate lace.
‘I don’t think Harold Gaumont has ever worn jeans in his life, nor have I ever seen any of his actors wear jeans in his films,’ said Lucy, raising her eyebrows at Willow. ‘The dress is perfect,’ she said, holding up a finely pleated silk chiffon number with a print of autumnal flowers on it. ‘Wear it with those shoes you have on now,’ she said, pointing to her soft suede brown kitten heels, ‘and pull your hair up in a messy bun.’
‘Well, it would help if I knew what the film was about. Simon had no idea. He’s very mysterious, this Harold,’ said Willow.
‘You have to assume that with Kate Winslet being cast before it will be a period piece of some sort. I can’t see her in jeans,’ laughed Lucy.
After meeting with that awful Eliza woman, the best thing Willow could have done was to ring back and convince Lucy to leave to work solely for her. They had spent the afternoon drinking tea in Willow’s suite and exchanging stories.
Willow had admitted to Lucy that she was indeed broke and would need to get to work as soon as possible. Lucy hadn’t been surprised; she knew so many of her clients’ secrets that they filled her dreams at night.
‘So you have no money, only assets?’ Lucy had asked.
‘Do
