20
Luc
The morning after the planning committee meeting Luc found Willow sitting on the clifftop staring out to sea. He could tell she’d been crying even though she denied it.
He sat down next to her, close enough so that their bodies were touching. The morning sun was warm despite the sea breeze and he felt a sense of calm as he watched the undulation of the waves beneath him. It was a view he’d known his whole life, one he thought of sometimes when he was at home in landlocked Tennessee. He’d missed the sea more than he realised.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly.’
‘You’re not fine, Willow. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘The festival,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve done something so stupid.’
‘I take it the planning committee meeting didn’t go well.’
‘It was awful. I completely choked in front of them all. I deal with billionaires and venture capitalists every day at work but put me in front of a small council committee and I completely fold.’
‘I thought they’d be on your side,’ Luc said. He felt sad at the thought there wouldn’t be a festival, but also a sense of relief that he wouldn’t have to play. ‘I thought Roger Beck would be a lone protestor.’
‘So did I and at first it did feel like that but then Roger started talking about ticket sales and how they’d been down year on year. I’ve no idea how he knew tickets sales were poor this year but he did and he asked what was the point in approving the licences and permissions if we ended up cancelling anyway.’ She paused, turning to look at him. ‘And that’s when I made the stupidest promise I’ve ever made.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I said that I’d make sure the festival sold out by getting Storm Tyler to play at it.’
Luc didn’t say anything as he digested her words and tried to work out the expression on her face.
It looked like fear.
‘I’d been thinking about it since we found the tape,’ Willow went on. ‘It seemed like a good idea until the words came out of my mouth. I tried to talk to Mum about the tape but she wouldn’t say anything’. Luc knew how hard it was to get their respective parents to talk about the past.
‘How the hell are you going to get Storm Tyler to play at the festival?’ he asked.
‘I have no idea,’ Willow said, turning away from him to look out to sea again.
‘You know, Willow,’ Luc said slowly. ‘This isn’t your responsibility. You don’t have to do this; it’s your parents’ job. You have your own life to get on with.’
‘I’m taking some time off work,’ she said. ‘I’m going to stay here for the summer and try to help Mum sort this out.’
Luc was surprised. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear. He’d thought that she would be eager to get back to London, to her job at least, if not her fiancé.
‘But now I’ve just made everything worse,’ she went on. He saw her trying to blink back tears again and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She didn’t pull away and he relished the feel of her next to him, wishing just for a moment that things could be different, that he could stay here with her forever.
‘You haven’t,’ he said. ‘And I’m glad that you’re staying for the summer. But why are you so invested in the festival? Why do you want it to happen so much?’ Part of him didn’t want her to be so invested, part of him didn’t want the festival to happen at all because he didn’t know if he could face playing.
‘I don’t know how Mum will cope if the festival doesn’t go ahead,’ she replied. ‘I sometimes think it’s the only thing she’s got in her life and that’s my fault too for not coming to visit anymore.’
‘None of this is your fault, Willow.’
‘And then there’s you,’ she said.
‘Me?’
‘You’ve come all this way to play Mum’s festival, abandoning your life in America, and now it might not go ahead. I can’t let that happen.’
Luc felt stab of guilt at the part of him that was relieved that the festival might have to be cancelled.
She turned to look at him again and he didn’t want to resist this anymore. By mentioning his life in Nashville she’d reminded him of how precious this time with her was. He knew that she could feel it too – that sense that they could never be together, but they had been given the gift of this summer. Her blue eyes were locked on his and her lips were just a breath away. If he ducked his head just a little, he could kiss her.
The air around them went still and Luc didn’t know who initiated it but the moment his lips touched hers it ignited a fire inside him that he thought he’d put out years ago. He tried to hold back, to let her take the lead and for a moment there was a fleeting thought on the outer edges of his mind telling him to stop, that now wasn’t the time, that he was going to hurt everyone. But Luc ignored it as he felt her hands on the back of his neck, her fingers running into his hair, as her tongue found his. For the first time in nearly twelve years he was kissing Willow Cole.
He never wanted to let her go.
She broke the kiss first, and Luc knew why. It was too soon – only a few weeks had passed since she walked out of her wedding and, as far as he knew, she still hadn’t worked out why or spoken to the man she was supposed to marry since he went on honeymoon with someone else. But when he looked at her she was smiling and he knew that they had both wanted that kiss, however bad the timing might have been.
‘Sorry,’ she said, her fingers brushing gently against her lips where his had been a moment before.
Luc smiled. ‘You definitely don’t have to apologise for that.’
‘I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,’ she admitted quietly. ‘It’s just—’
‘Not the right time,’ he interrupted. The breeze blew her hair across her face and Luc reached across to tuck it behind her ear. ‘I know.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘I want you to play at Mum’s festival, Luc,’ she said.
‘I have played before,’ he replied, thinking of the open mic night that he won in The Three Doves all those years ago.
‘Yes but this time you’ll be headlining. I’m going to make sure of it.’
They sat for a moment, holding hands and looking out towards the sea. There was nobody else around and if it wasn’t for the distant sounds from the beach below and the gentle chimes of an ice-cream van, he could believe they were the only people in the world.
‘So,’ he said after a while. ‘Storm Tyler.’
She pulled a face. ‘I don’t even know how to begin finding him.’
‘Maybe just the rumour of him coming will be enough,’ Luc said hopefully.
‘Do you want to deal with the riot when he doesn’t show?’
‘I don’t know how much you know about Storm Tyler, but not turning up would be pretty on-brand. So much so some people might be disappointed if he did show.’
‘I was up half the night researching him and King Silver. He’s not the most reliable person is he? Even by rock star standards.’
‘Alcoholic, mood swings, broke up his band twice, abandoned his own solo tour and then disappeared completely in the late Eighties,’ Luc said. ‘No, he’s not very reliable at all.’
‘There’s a message board dedicated to him you know,’ Willow said. ‘And all these people, men obviously, discussing what might have happened to him. There are so many rumours – rumours he died, joined a cult, recorded a solo album that never got released…’ She paused. ‘But I guess I thought that he’d been on the Island before so he might come back again.’
Luc nodded slowly. ‘What did your mum say about it all?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think she’s speaking to me,’ Willow said. ‘She was angry that we’d listened to the tape without telling her.’
‘I can understand that.’ He’d been feeling guilty about it since last week.
‘Me too,’ Willow agreed. ‘I think she knows whe
re Storm Tyler is but she says she can’t talk about it.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’ Luc asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Willow replied, leaning her head on Luc’s shoulder. ‘She told me that I was interfering in her business and that I should never have listened to the tape. She went to bed as soon as we got home and she was gone when I got up this morning.’
They sat quietly together and Luc wished he could bottle this moment for later, for when the summer was over and he had to go home.
‘What do you think happened to him?’ she asked.
‘I think he’s just hiding out somewhere in the middle of nowhere, avoiding both music and his crazed fans like the plague.’
‘And how do I find him?’
‘Start by emailing his old agent and King Silver’s management company – you’ll find them easily enough online,’ Luc replied. ‘In the meantime I’ll ask my agent. He might have some ideas.’
He felt Willow stiffen in his arms and move away.
‘He?’ she asked. ‘The agent you call “sweetheart” is a guy?’
He knew that she never believed that phone call was from his agent. He knew that now would be the time to tell her about Annelise, just like Don wanted him to, but he couldn’t find the words. It was too much.
‘Luc I’m not really in the habit of kissing other people’s boyfriends.’
‘God, Willow, it’s not what you think.’ He saw her raise her eyebrows and he cringed at the cliché in his words. ‘My life is… complicated,’ he said. Tell her, the voice in his head whispered but he ignored it.
He watched Willow crumple then, her shoulders rounding forward as though she’d fallen in on herself under the weight of everything that had happened.
‘Life seems to get that way for us all,’ she said.
‘There isn’t anyone else,’ he said quietly. ‘Not in Nashville, not anywhere.’
She didn’t reply. She didn’t look at him.
‘I’m sorry, Willow,’ he said. He reached out for her and she turned to him brushing his fingers with hers. All Luc could hear was the beating of his own heart and the sound of the sea in the background. He couldn’t push her away, he needed her to be there if the festival went ahead. If he knew that she was in the audience, he might just be able to get on stage.
‘I should go,’ she said. ‘I’m late opening The Music Shop.’
Luc sat on the clifftop watching her walk away, feeling as though he’d been hit over the head. That was what kissing Willow Cole did to him.
*
Luc bumped into Don outside the apartment building they were both staying in.
‘Have you spoken to Willow?’ Don asked.
Luc nodded, he knew what was coming.
‘Storm Tyler?’ Don said. ‘Really?’
‘It wasn’t my idea,’ Luc replied defensively.
‘No, but I bet listening to that damn tape in the first place was your bloody idea. She’d never have got around to it on her own, and even if she had she’d never have worked out who was playing on it.’
‘She’d have recognised her own mother’s voice,’ Luc said.
Don paused for a moment, running a hand over his face. Luc could hear the sound of the callouses on Don’s fingers – from years of playing guitar – brushing against the stubble on his chin.
‘It’s not your fault.’ He sighed. ‘I had Cathy banging the door down at dawn telling me all about it but you and Willow weren’t to know.’
‘Know what?’ Luc asked.
‘I’m going to meet Rocco for breakfast,’ Don said, changing the subject. ‘Do you fancy coming with us.’
‘Rocco’s still here?’
‘He’s writing an album apparently. The sea inspires him.’ There was a resignation in the way Don was talking as though Rocco was getting on his nerves, as though everything was getting on his nerves. Luc had never seen Don like this, but he wished the sea was inspiring him. ‘So are you coming?’ Don asked again.
Luc shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I need to work.’
‘You’re writing again?’ Don asked.
‘I told you I was.’
‘And I wasn’t sure I believed you.’
‘I haven’t been,’ Luc admitted. ‘But I have to try. If Willow pulls this off and the festival goes ahead I need to be able to get on stage without falling apart and I need at least one song that the audience haven’t heard before.’
‘Luc, have you…?’ Don began but Luc held up his hand. He knew what was coming and he knew Don was right – he had to tell Cathy and Willow about Annelise.
‘Not yet,’ he said quietly. ‘One thing at a time.’
Don stepped away, nodding.
‘I’m going to shut myself away for a couple of days,’ Luc said, thinking that perhaps after that kiss, he should put some space between himself and Willow before he did something stupid, something he shouldn’t be doing. ‘Crack this writer’s block, then I’ll tell her OK?’
‘OK,’ Don said, walking away.
*
Before he started work he phoned his agent. He told Sam about the tape that he and Willow had found.
‘There was always a rumour that he’d recorded “Gamble Gold”,’ Sam said. ‘Years ago, when King Silver were first getting famous Storm used to do a solo spot in the middle of the show, an acoustic set, and he often played “Gamble Gold” then.’
‘But he never recorded it?’
‘No, people tried to get him to because he played it so differently to everyone else, but he never did. Rumours went around that he’d left a tape somewhere before he disappeared, but this was recorded in 1999 you say?’
‘Long after he disappeared.’
‘What’s it like?’ Sam asked.
‘Beautiful.’ But that was a completely inadequate description for what listening to that tape had made him feel. It had brought up all sorts of emotions, ones Luc had been burying for a long time. But it had also given him the kernel of an idea, one he was too scared to think about just yet.
‘I don’t know if you remember this or not,’ Sam said. ‘But your mum’s old band used to play a version of “Gamble Gold” back in the day.’
‘I remember.’
‘Did your mum ever mention why?’
‘I don’t think so. Mum doesn’t talk about the past very much.’
Sam paused for a moment and Luc heard him sigh. ‘I’m surprised that you don’t know this already to be honest but a long time ago Storm Tyler went on a rather ill-fated solo tour.’
‘OK,’ Luc said. ‘I know that. But what’s it got to do with the tape.’
‘Storm played “Gamble Gold” every night on that tour up until his support act started playing it instead.’
He paused and Luc was just about to fill the silence with more impatient questions when Sam spoke again.
‘His support act was The Laurels,’ he said.
Luc didn’t say anything for a moment because that little bit of information had knocked him off his feet. Why had Krystal never said anything? Why had Willow’s parents never told her?
‘There’s a connection there if you want to look for it, I guess,’ Sam said.
‘Do you know what it is?’ Luc asked, sick of him talking in riddles.
‘No. I’m old, man, but I’m not that old. I never knew Storm – he’d disappeared before I started working in this shitty industry. I’m just warning you that you might want to think twice before digging much deeper. You might not like what you find.’
Luc felt that familiar sense of tightening around his heart. He needed to sit down. He needed to talk to his mother. He needed to talk to Willow.
‘And speaking of this shitty industry,’ Sam went on. ‘Have you got anything for me yet?’
‘I’m working on it,’ Luc replied. ‘Right now.’
21
August 1987
Cathy woke from a deep sleep. With her eyes still closed, the sheets wrapped around her, she tried to remember where she was
. Someone was snoring loudly next to her and it reverberated through her sore head. She remembered how much vodka she’d drunk the night before and as if on cue her stomach lurched, a wave of nausea washing over her. What had she been thinking drinking so much? She hardly ever drank and she shouldn’t have been drinking at all; she shouldn’t have done that to the baby.
She stretched her legs out, brushing against another pair of legs in the bed beside her. Storm had come to bed the night before after all. Usually when he went out with the band he’d roll in drunk and crash out on the sofa. Then the next day he’d be sad and rueful, apologising constantly.
‘You’re still my muse, Cathy Cole,’ he’d say.
But it had been a long time since Storm had created anything worthy of needing a muse.
Carefully, so as not to disturb either Storm or what promised to be a horrendous headache, Cathy pushed herself out of bed. As she stood up she saw why Storm had come to bed the night before, why he was sleeping so close to her on the king-sized mattress.
There was someone else in the bed with them, someone young and pretty and fast asleep with her head resting on Storm’s chest.
Cathy choked back the mix of tears and nausea and turned away, walking quietly into the kitchen. She was under no illusion that Storm had been faithful to her over the years, but this was a new low. She was angry with herself too for passing out and not realising what Storm had done. Not that he would have been capable of doing much – he was barely capable of anything these days. The groupie in her bed must be quite disappointed and that gave Cathy some consolation at least.
She leant against the sink as she poured herself a glass of water, which she sipped slowly. Since that afternoon two and half years ago when Storm had knocked on Krystal’s door asking for her, Cathy had been living with him in Green Park in the flat where she had first slept with him a lifetime ago.
Things had been good at first, really good, despite Don and Krystal’s reluctance to let Cathy go. Neither of them thought that Storm could possibly have changed in such a short amount of time. Cathy should have listened to them, but when it came to Storm she was incapable of listening to reason.
The Summer Island Festival Page 14
