The Summer Island Festival

by Rachel Burton

  Cathy didn’t speak and Willow could see the hurt in her eyes. She had come back to the Island to try to heal, to try to find a new path, a new way of life but now she knew that she wasn’t the only one who had been broken.

  Cathy reached across to Willow and took her hand. Luc’s hand was still on Willow’s thigh, soft and gentle. The three of them sat like that for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. There was so much still to say, so much to unravel, so many questions to ask but Willow knew that now wasn’t the right time. It was something that she and her mother would have to work out together, alone.

  But there was one question that Willow had to ask, the one she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. She had to now.

  ‘Mum,’ she said quietly. ‘Is Storm Tyler my father?’

  Cathy looked up at her and smiled. ‘No, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Don is your father – you can be sure of that.’ She paused for a moment as though considering something, her eyes flicking to Luc for a moment.

  It was then that it hit her, a flash of realisation. All those nights Willow had spent trawling the internet looking at old pictures of Storm Tyler and it was only now that she worked it out and knew what her father had almost told them in The Music Shop earlier in the week.

  But before she could think about it any further, somebody started banging on the front door.

  29

  Luc

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Luc said, standing up. He needed to get away, to get out of this room. His chest had been tightening as Cathy and Willow had spoken. He didn’t want them to argue, he didn’t want to cause either of them any pain and yet he knew he’d hurt them both. He wanted to tell Willow that he was still there for her. He wanted to ask her if she’d go for a walk with him. He didn’t want to know any more about their parents and Storm Tyler, because he had a feeling that Cathy and Don were keeping something from them. He just wanted to sit somewhere quietly and listen to the sea, and whoever was at the door was the interruption he needed.

  He left Cathy and Willow sitting together and walked out of the room and into the hall. Everything seemed to slow down and the sunlight shining through the hall window seemed very bright. He took some deep breaths before opening the door.

  ‘Oh, Mum, it’s you,’ he said.

  ‘Luc, thank God,’ Krystal said. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  ‘Is everything OK?’ he asked, putting out a hand to steady his mother who seemed very worked up about something, her usually immaculate appearance in disarray. He didn’t know if he could stand any more parental dramas.

  ‘Annelise has run off,’ she said. ‘I can’t find her anywhere.’

  Luc’s heart, which had been holding together by a thread for weeks now, shattered into a million pieces.

  An hour later and most of Seaview were out looking for Annelise. Tom Newell was asking questions of holidaymakers and Skye was going from shop to shop to see if anyone had seen her. Don and Cathy were looking inland while Luc and Willow focused on the beach. An hour had passed and nobody had found her, nobody had even seen her.

  ‘It’s like she’s disappeared into thin air,’ Luc said, his hands raking his hair as he squatted down on the beach. ‘Where is she? What am I going to do?’ He was trying to keep the anxiety at bay, but Annelise’s disappearance was tearing into him, his emotions a mix of anger, sadness and panic. ‘I’m going to have to tell her mother,’ he went on, but Willow placed her hand on his arm.

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘It’s only been a couple of hours.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Luc replied. ‘Her mother can be really difficult. I had to fight for months for her to give permission for Annelise to come to the Island this summer. I’m only supposed to see her in Nashville – that was the agreement.’ He paused and looked at Willow and the unsaid words that were hidden in that statement passed silently between them. The unsaid words that they had both been ignoring.

  We can never be together because our lives are in different places. This summer is all we have.

  ‘We’ll find her, I promise.’

  Luc knew that Willow couldn’t promise that, but just hearing the words was enough to give him a little bit of hope. Willow had always given him hope.

  ‘We should go down to the far end of the beach,’ Willow said, taking Luc’s hand and drawing him up to standing. ‘I know you don’t think she knows where that is, but you remember what being seven is like surely? How far we used to explore?’

  ‘But we had each other,’ Luc said. ‘She’s all alone.’

  ‘Your daughter is clever and sensible and seems very happy in her own company. She’ll just have wandered off playing some game or other and lost track of time. She’ll be fine.’

  ‘The tide will be coming in soon,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I know,’ Willow replied calmly. ‘Which is why we should get down to the other end of the beach now.’

  ‘She doesn’t know about the tides. Not like we did.’ Luc and Willow had grown up on the Island with an ingrained respect for the power of the sea and the fickleness of the tides. They had learned to love it but known they could never truly know it or its capabilities. Annelise had none of that knowledge and that thought scared Luc more than anything else he had heard today.

  They walked together along the sand. Luc didn’t let go of Willow’s hand. He felt as though he would float away if he did, like a forgotten balloon after a birthday party. He felt as though Willow was his only tether right now.

  What am I going to do without her? he thought.

  He wasn’t sure if he meant Annelise or Willow. Probably both. He needed them both. But he knew he could never have that.

  As they approached the far end of the beach, the place where he’d had his first panic attack, where Don found him and helped him, Luc felt his breathing shorten again, the tightness around his heart return. He slowed down.

  ‘Willow I can’t…’

  ‘You can,’ she said gently.

  He pulled away from her, turning his back to the beach in front of them. All he could think about was that morning, lying in the fishing boat thinking he was dying. He needed to pull himself together, to find Annelise. He looked over at Willow but she wasn’t looking at him; she was looking down the beach at something else, her face a mask of shock.

  ‘Luc, look,’ she said, pointing to the beach behind him. He hardly dared to turn around.

  When he did, he saw them at the end of the beach, walking towards him. Annelise was holding hands with an old man. What the hell was she doing? Who the hell was he?

  ‘Annelise,’ he shouted down the beach. Adrenaline took over as he started to run towards her. ‘Annelise come here,’ he shouted. He watched as his daughter let go of the man’s hand and started running towards him.

  ‘Hey, Daddy,’ she called.

  He caught up with her, pulling her into his arms, picking her up.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t know where you were, you must never do that…’

  He trailed off as the old man walked towards him and realisation dawned. He understood the shocked look on Willow’s face now; it had nothing to do with Annelise holding hands with a stranger and everything to do with who that stranger was. He didn’t seem so old now that Luc was closer to him and Luc noticed his green eyes.

  ‘Daddy, this is Neil,’ Annelise said. ‘He’s my new friend.’

  Luc stared at the man in front of him.

  The man who used to be Storm Tyler.

  And a strange feeling washed over him.

  30

  August 1999

  ‘“Gamble Gold” Take One,’ Storm Tyler said into the microphone in the recording studio at The Music Shop. Cathy sat in the corner smiling to herself. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment all of Storm’s fans had been waiting for. He had finally decided to record “Gamble Gold” and he’d chosen to record it in her tiny studio on the Isle of Wight.

  Nobody but Cathy knew abo
ut it so far. Don and Krystal knew that Storm was here on the Island and knew that he was going to be headlining the festival, but neither of them had been enthusiastic about it.

  ‘Let’s see if he’s sober enough to turn up,’ Krystal had said. Don hadn’t said anything at all. The two of them had been drifting apart for several years; Don spending more and more time working as a session musician in London or touring with other bands. He only seemed to be home for the festival and for Christmas these days and Cathy wondered if he would have come home at all if it hadn’t been for Willow.

  Cathy had spent a lot of time alone, which was when she’d started making mandolins and guitars. It had been something to do while Don was away but had turned into a small business that took up so much of her time. She was happy, mostly.

  She’d got back in touch with Storm after the second Seaview Music Festival. She knew she shouldn’t, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Being involved in the festival, involved in music again, had made her thoughts turn to Storm Tyler. When the Laurels had started touring again she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.

  She’d written to his old manager who she’d known from when The Laurels toured with Storm and given him her address. She hadn’t really expected Storm to write to her. She had been over the moon when he did.

  Their correspondence was tentative at first – just two or three letters a year. But gradually, over time and as they both got email addresses, they wrote more often.

  I’d love to see my muse again, Storm had written and that was when Cathy had decided to ask him to play the festival.

  The threads that her marriage was hanging on by were severed the night she told Don about it. When he walked out of the house slamming the door behind him, she hadn’t thought he’d come back. She suspected he only did because of Willow. Cathy and Don had kept up the show of their marriage for years to keep Willow happy. Cathy knew that if it hadn’t been for Willow there would have been no marriage anyway.

  ‘He can come,’ Don relented in the end. ‘He can play the bloody festival and then he can go. It will bring in money and get us publicity. But if he gets drunk, or does anything to upset anyone, especially Willow, I swear to God…’

  ‘I promise,’ Cathy had said. ‘He’ll be on his best behaviour.’ Although Cathy had no idea how she could control him. She’d never been able to before.

  Recording “Gamble Gold” had been her idea but Storm had loved it.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘This is the right time, the right place, with the right backing singer.’ He snaked his arm around Cathy’s waist.

  ‘Me?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course you,’ Storm replied. ‘Always my muse.’

  They recorded it in one take with no mistakes, Storm’s voice as clear as it had been at the Astoria seventeen years before, his mandolin playing as precise and unique.

  ‘This is it,’ Cathy said. ‘Your big comeback.’

  ‘I’ll have to start thinking about what other Ballad Book songs to record,’ Storm replied.

  Afterwards Cathy had to pick Willow up from Krystal’s house and Storm said he’d see Cathy the next day. He was staying in a hotel, keeping himself to himself so that nobody would see him and ask questions, especially Willow.

  ‘I’ll stop for a celebratory lemonade,’ he said.

  Cathy had been a fool to think that Storm Tyler could set foot in The Three Doves on his own and buy a soft drink.

  He’d turned up at Cathy and Don’s front door hours later, singing loudly and barely able to stand. Don hadn’t wanted to let him in at all, but Storm pushed past him.

  ‘Where’s Cathy Cole?’ he slurred. ‘Where’s my muse?’

  Then he threw up in the living room and passed out on the sofa.

  ‘I thought he was meant to be clean,’ Don said through gritted teeth.

  ‘He told me he was,’ Cathy replied.

  ‘Jesus, Cathy,’ Don fumed. ‘How could you let this happen with our daughter in the house? He’s not supposed to come here. Thank God Willow’s asleep.’

  Don had taken Willow back to Krystal’s for the night. Cathy hadn’t known what story he’d spun her when he’d woken her up and told her they were going on an adventure. He must have stayed at Krystal’s too because neither of them had come back until the next day.

  Cathy had cleaned up by then and Storm was awake, showered and caffeinated. He had reverted to the apologetic version of himself, begging for Cathy’s forgiveness just as he had when they’d lived together.

  ‘You need to go to rehab,’ Cathy said. ‘You need to stop thinking you can get clean on your own.’

  Storm was still there when Don came back with Krystal.

  ‘Where are the kids?’ Cathy whispered, meeting them in the hallway.

  ‘At the beach,’ Don replied. ‘We thought they should stay away until he’d gone.’

  Cathy nodded. ‘I’m going with him,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ Krystal and Don stared at her.

  ‘He needs to go to rehab,’ Cathy replied calmly. ‘He’s not going to do that on his own so I’m taking him back to France and checking him in.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed has it?’ Krystal said. ‘Neil Flannigan says “jump” and you say “how high?”’ Her cheeks were flushed with anger.

  ‘It’s not like that—’ Cathy began.

  ‘And what are you going to tell Willow?’ Don interrupted. ‘Sorry I can’t be here for the festival, love, but I’m off to France with your real father?’ His voice had grown louder and Cathy turned towards the living room door behind which she knew Storm was listening.

  ‘Don’t say that, Don,’ she said. Cathy had known for years that Don had harboured doubts about Willow’s paternity and nothing she said could ever really convince him that he was her father.

  ‘How do I know he’s not her father?’ Don went on. ‘I’ve only got your word for it and now he’s back in our lives and damn it, Cathy, he’s not taking her away from me.’

  ‘You do only have my word for it,’ Cathy said quietly. ‘And you’ve never been able to bring yourself to believe me. Storm and I hadn’t slept together for months before I found out I was pregnant. I’ve told you that more times than I care to remember.’

  ‘Prove it,’ Don said, his voice ice cold.

  ‘Shut up, Don, right now,’ Krystal said sharply. ‘Don’t start this again after all these years. Willow is your daughter. Do you really think that I’d have let her and Luc get so close if I thought for a second that Neil was Willow’s father too…’ She stopped abruptly, clapping her hand over her mouth as she realised what she’d said.

  In the silence that followed Cathy looked at her husband, quietly searching his face to see if he knew – he’d always been close to Luc, maybe he’d guessed? Because now that Cathy had found out, it seemed obvious. Of course Luc was Neil’s child – those eyes should have given it away. Even at eleven years old Luc looked like his father. How had she never figured it out before now?

  And there was something else as well, that strange question that Krystal had asked when the children were still small, when they first started to become inseparable.

  Willow isn’t Storm’s daughter is she? You would tell me wouldn’t you?

  Cathy hadn’t understood why it was so important at the time.

  She could tell by the look on Don’s face that he hadn’t known either, that this was all new information to him too.

  ‘He’s Luc’s father?’ Don asked incredulously.

  Behind him the living room door opened. ‘I’m what?’ Storm asked.

  ‘You’re Luc’s father,’ Krystal repeated, rubbing her eyes with her palms.

  ‘Why did you never tell me?’

  Cathy felt as though she was watching a play or a television programme or something else that she wasn’t directly involved in. She found it hard to believe that these were her friends, her bandmates, her family. How had she not known? Why had Krystal never told her?

  ‘
I never told you, Neil, because you are an utter mess,’ Krystal said. ‘Because who wants a drunk and a drug addict as the father of their child?’

  Cathy tried to find something to say to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that were slamming into her. She had always assumed Krystal hadn’t really known who Luc’s father was – life had been crazy back then and Krystal had been enjoying it to the full.

  Krystal turned to look at Cathy. ‘I’m sorry I never told you,’ she said. ‘I was embarrassed to admit it. I broke all the rules and slept with your ex and I’m sorry for that.’ She stood up a little bit straighter. ‘But I’ll never regret it,’ she went on. ‘Luc is the best thing that ever happened to me.’

  ‘You slept with Neil,’ Cathy said quietly to herself. ‘You slept with Storm.’ She looked over at Don who was just standing there in stunned silence.

  ‘Luc has his eyes,’ Don said, but nobody replied.

  ‘Can I meet him?’ Neil asked.

  ‘No, absolutely not.’ Krystal was resolute. ‘This conversation stays in this room. Nobody tells Luc. Do you all swear?’

  Don nodded and looked at Cathy. She didn’t want to swear anything, she was still reeling from the fact that Krystal, her best friend, had slept with the love of her life, had a child with him but had never told her.

  ‘Cathy?’ Don asked.

  ‘I have a right to see my son,’ Neil interrupted.

  Nobody spoke for a moment. Nobody moved.

  ‘Please,’ Krystal said, her tone softening. ‘I’m begging you. Luc is sensitive, fragile and you’re…’ She paused, waving a hand at Storm Tyler. ‘You’re too much for him in this state. I’m asking you, for Luc’s sake, to keep this amongst ourselves.’

  And Cathy understood that, understood the power of a mother’s love. She would lie down and die for Willow. She would do anything to make her happy, to make sure she had a good life.

  ‘I promise it won’t go any further,’ Cathy said, turning to look at Neil and Don. Both men nodded, promising to keep quiet as well.