The Summer Island Festival

by Rachel Burton

  ‘Starting with “Gamble Gold” of course,’ he said.

  ‘Of course!’ Willow replied. ‘Are you recording it here on the Island?’

  Luc paused. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘After the festival Mum is taking Annelise back to Nashville – she needs to go back to her mum before school starts.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I’m flying out to LA with Rocco to record this album. I’m not sure how long it will take.’

  Willow’s eyes flicked away from him but not before he saw the flash of disappointment on her face.

  ‘Willow,’ he said, reaching out for her. But she stepped away before he could touch her.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she replied, still not looking at him. ‘Your life is in America. I always knew that.’

  ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Talk to Charlie,’ she said. ‘Put our flat on the market, sort out all our things and learn to move on with my life I guess.’

  His heart broke for her, for everything she’d been through this summer, for everything he suspected she’d been through these past twelve years. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how unique, and how happy he was that she’d finally started to find herself again.

  ‘What will you do after that?’ he asked instead.

  She didn’t reply. She folded her arms across her chest as though stopping him coming any closer.

  He felt as though he was losing her all over again.

  ‘I’ll come back, Willow,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

  He could feel the weight of the words unsaid between them. He wanted to talk to her about Storm Tyler, or Neil Flannigan as he preferred now, about his mum, about what happened all those years ago. He wanted to compare stories – compare what his mother and Neil had told him to what her parents had told her. He wondered if they’d ever get the chance to do that before he had to leave again, before she went back to London.

  He took a step closer to her, but there was a knock on the window behind him. Annelise beckoned him to come out.

  ‘You’d better go,’ Willow said, smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘You’re coming to the festival, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she said. ‘Cheering you on. Just try and keep me away.’

  36

  Willow

  The closer the festival got, the more disconnected from it Willow felt. She watched the preparations from the safety of The Music Shop. She saw the signs going up for the car park on the clifftop – the clifftop where she’d kissed Luc – she watched as bunting appeared above the doorways of the local pubs and she passed endless posters that listed which bands were playing where. She tried not to notice Luc’s name on the posters for the final day; she tried not to think that when she saw him play it might be the last time she ever saw him. And when she heard the soundchecks drifting towards her on the breeze she tried not to wonder if one of them was Luc.

  The weekend of the festival was glorious, warm and sunny with cloudless blue skies. Willow spent most of it basking in the sun outside The Music Shop so somebody was there for the few stragglers who wanted to buy guitar strings, or have their mandolins restrung, but she wasn’t busy. She wandered around the food stalls at the festival in her lunch break and she went to The Three Doves in the evening with Skye to watch the open mic competition.

  Skye’s partner, Bob, was on the Island for the weekend. The two of them were making plans for when Bob finally moved here in the autumn. Willow tried to be happy for them, tried not to think about Luc leaving in a few days, about Charlie and Kate in London.

  Skye had been over the moon when Willow told her she’d decided to stay on the Island. Once she’d been back to London and spoken to Charlie, once she’d sorted out the flat to be put on the market and reclaimed her things, she’d move back for good. She was hoping that once the money from the flat came through she’d be able to buy a small house of her own in Seaview. She’d remembered the words her mother spoke to her right at the beginning of the summer about how every musician needs a good accountant and had decided to set herself up as just that. Tom Newell had already booked her services. He had presented her with a plastic bag full of receipts to sort through the day before the festival began. It was a far cry from the tall glass building of the investment bank, but she knew it was the right move.

  ‘It’ll be just like old times,’ Skye said, hugging her.

  ‘Not old times,’ Willow replied. ‘New beginnings.’

  On the Saturday afternoon she closed her mother’s shop for the final time. Cathy would take over the running of it again from Monday and Willow felt a sense of sadness at that. She’d enjoyed these strange halcyon days of the summer. They’d been like an unplanned break from life – a chance to recalibrate, to find a new way. Sad as she was to be shutting the shop for the last time, she was also excited for her new venture, her new business.

  ‘You are coming tomorrow aren’t you?’ Skye asked her in the pub that evening. ‘You’ll be there for Luc?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  On the last day of the festival she went to the beach with Skye and Bob and together they shared a picnic and a bottle of cold white wine. They listened to the bands that played during the afternoon and chatted to whoever happened to be passing. The atmosphere was a heady mix of laid-back and electrifying. There were fairground rides for the children, a candyfloss stall and people on stilts tiptoeing through the crowds, standing ten feet tall. A man on a unicycle passed by.

  ‘It hasn’t changed has it?’ Skye said with a smile.

  ‘I hope it never does,’ Willow replied and they both laughed at the look of incredulity on Bob’s face.

  ‘It’s worse than Covent Garden in tourist season,’ he said.

  ‘Get used to it.’ Skye laughed, nudging him. ‘This is Island life!’

  Island life, Willow thought. It’s good to be back.

  They didn’t see Luc or Annelise or Krystal, and Willow wondered where they were and what they were doing. She hoped Luc was all right, that he wasn’t too nervous, that he had managed to keep his panic attacks at bay.

  Roger Beck wandered by, looking remarkably at ease for a man who supposedly hated the festival. Willow hadn’t seen or heard from him for weeks and she called him over and poured him a glass of wine. If she was going to be staying on the Island she wanted to start again with a fresh slate, with no hard feelings.

  ‘Hello, Willow,’ Roger said as he sat down. ‘Skye.’

  Skye introduced Bob and the two men shook hands.

  ‘You pulled it off then,’ Roger said. ‘You sold all the tickets.’

  ‘As if there was any doubt,’ Willow replied, knowing full well there had been a lot of doubt.

  ‘And what about Storm Tyler?’ Roger asked. ‘Rumour has it that you found him too.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Well for what it’s worth I’m impressed.’

  Willow saw the expression on Skye’s face and tried not to laugh. She opened her mouth to ask Roger why he’d tried block the festival but Roger changed the subject before she had the chance.

  ‘I hear you’re moving back to the Island,’ Roger said. ‘Setting up as a bookkeeper.’

  ‘Word travels fast.’ Willow smiled. The Island grapevine was one of the fastest on earth. It would take her a while to get used to that again.

  Roger didn’t say anything for a moment and she braced herself for a scornful remark.

  ‘I might have some work to put your way,’ he said eventually.

  Willow thanked him, astonished. ‘As long as it’s legit,’ she joked.

  Just for the briefest of moments she thought she saw Roger smile. The Seaview Folk Festival had always weaved magic in the air.

  He drank his wine as he watched the band on stage.

  ‘If you can’t beat them join them,’ he said, tapping his foot.

  After he left
Skye was incredulous.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask him what he was playing at trying to stop the festival in the first place?’ she asked.

  Willow shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to break the spell. Festival days were always the best days. I can’t believe I missed so many of them.’

  Skye didn’t reply, she just pulled Willow into a hug. Perhaps Willow would never know why Roger had wanted to stop the festival. Perhaps Luc and Skye had been right when they said they thought it was a sort of revenge for the way she’d treated him at school when he’d clearly had a huge crush on her. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Nobody could change the past after all.

  As the sun sat low in the sky and the temperature dropped enough for Willow to need to put a jumper on, Luc took to the stage and the crowd erupted into cheers. He’d been advertised all over the Island as “American Stars finalist Lucien Hawke” but as Willow looked at him, his guitar slung around his neck, his hair standing up on end from where she knew he’d been running his hands through it, all she could see was Luc Harrison – the boy she’d been in love with since she was eleven years old.

  He was magnificent, blowing all the other acts out of the water. He didn’t show any signs of panic or anxiety; he just played song after song from his first album – including the one he played at the live final of American Stars, the one Willow had listened to in secret so many times that she knew all the words, the one she now realised he’d written for Annelise. She hoped he knew that she was here, just as she’d promised. She hoped he knew that she was cheering him on, just like she used to at The Three Doves when they were teenagers.

  The crowd demanded two encores and, as he came on to the stage for the final time, he started to speak to the crowd.

  ‘There’s been a few rumours around the Island over the years about the return of Storm Tyler,’ Luc said. There was a roar of cheering at the mention of the music legend’s name and Willow felt a strange prickle of excitement running up her spine.

  ‘Well this year it’s not a rumour,’ Luc continued as he turned towards the wings of the stage.

  Storm Tyler, or Neil Flannigan, walked slowly on to the stage with a mandolin tucked under his arm. Willow stared as the crowd around her went out of their minds – cheering and shouting, screaming and stamping their feet.

  Nothing happened.

  Luc just stood in front of the microphone with Storm at his side, waiting. Eventually the crowd started to quieten a little, intrigued by what would happen next.

  ‘You probably all know this one,’ Luc said, fiddling with the tuning pegs of his guitar. ‘But this song is for you, Willow.’ Luc paused again as the crowd rumbled and cheered. Willow felt Skye’s hand on the small of her back.

  ‘Willow, I know you’re out there,’ Luc went on. ‘And in case you hadn’t worked it out yet, I love you.’

  The crowd erupted as Luc and Storm launched into the opening bars of “Gamble Gold”.

  What other song could it be? Willow thought.

  ‘Did he just say he loved me?’ Willow asked, turning to Skye. She felt as though the whole beach was spinning, as though everyone was staring at her.

  Had Luc Harrison just told her that he loved her in front of everyone?

  ‘He did.’ Skye grinned. ‘I knew he would.’

  ‘You knew?’ Willow asked.

  Skye shrugged. ‘He might have mentioned it,’ Skye said grabbing Willow’s hand as she began to pull her through the crowd. ‘I bumped into him the other day. Gave him a piece of my mind.’

  ‘I need to see him,’ Willow said. ‘I can’t let him go back to America until I’ve spoken to him. I don’t want it to be like last time.’

  ‘We need to get you backstage before they finish this set,’ Skye replied.

  Bob trailed in their wake carrying handbags and blankets and other picnic detritus.

  Don met them backstage. ‘Luc will be pleased to see you.’ Don grinned. ‘Thanks for bringing her,’ he said to Skye. Bob was standing next to Skye, his arms full, looking thoroughly confused and, from behind her father, Tom Newell and Rocco Beezon grinned at her.

  ‘Were you all in on this?’ Willow asked, her heart pounding.

  ‘I didn’t know anything about it,’ Bob replied with a shrug.

  Don led Willow away to the wings of the stage and she stood with Annelise and Krystal as she watched Luc and Storm finish the song. She could remember standing with Luc watching The Laurels from this very spot year after year as teenagers. She felt Annelise take her hand.

  ‘My friend Neil is quite a good mandolin player, isn’t he?’ Annelise said.

  ‘He really is,’ Willow replied.

  ‘But not as good as you.’

  Willow couldn’t take her eyes off Luc and Storm Tyler. His father. She wanted this moment to last forever while at the same time was impatient for the song to end so she could see Luc, talk to him, touch him.

  And then, suddenly, Luc was there in front of her, his hands sliding down her arms.

  ‘You came,’ he said.

  ‘I love you too,’ she replied.

  She barely got the words out before his lips found hers.

  37

  Luc

  It had been Skye who had given him the idea when he’d bumped into her on the High Street after he had left The Music Shop.

  ‘She’s staying on the Island,’ Skye had said as Annelise went off to Cartwright’s sweet shop to load up on sugar. ‘She’s not going back to London.’

  ‘But she said…’ Luc had begun before pausing. Willow hadn’t actually said anything; he hadn’t given her the chance because he’d been too scared to hear the answer.

  ‘Don’t leave the Island without telling her how you feel,’ Skye had said. ‘Even if you have to do something drastic.’

  The weeks leading up to the festival had been stressful as he’d tried to unravel the stories of the past while trying to keep it all from Annelise. She still didn’t know that her “good friend Neil” was actually her grandfather and Luc knew he’d have to tell her at some point, but not until after the festival. He’d deal with all of that later.

  The thought of getting on that stage still filled him with fear, and he still didn’t know if he could go through with it. But after he’d spoken to Skye, after he’d worked out what he was going to do, he knew he had to do it. Knowing Willow was out there in the audience, knowing what he had to say to her would get him through.

  It had been Krystal’s idea for Storm to play “Gamble Gold” with Luc to close the festival. She’d felt it would be a way of bringing everything to a natural conclusion and to satisfy the rumours about Storm that had been haunting the festival for years, as well as placating all the festival goers who had only bought tickets on the promise that Storm Tyler would be there. Cathy had agreed and Luc had noticed a look pass between her and Neil that he recognised, one of a love that had been lost and may finally get the second chance it deserved.

  But he hadn’t had much time to think about it. All he had been able to focus on was the gig and the woman in the audience watching him.

  He’d played as though he was playing only for her and now she was in his arms, kissing him and he didn’t care that half of Seaview were witnessing it.

  ‘Oh that is so gross,’ squealed a little voice and Luc felt Willow’s laughter against his mouth.

  He pulled away from Willow and ruffled his daughter’s hair, noticing that she was still holding tight on to Willow’s hand. It gave him so much hope for the future, their future, that Willow and Annelise got on so well.

  Even if that future was a long way off. The obstacle of Annelise’s mother still hovered in the back of his mind like a small cloud. But he knew he couldn’t leave the Island without Willow knowing how he felt.

  ‘We should find somewhere more private,’ Willow whispered.

  ‘Get your dad to take you to the dressing room,’ Luc replied quietly. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ He prised Annelise’s hand out of Willow’s and took her to
his mother who was talking with Cathy and Storm.

  ‘Can you look after her for a few minutes?’ he asked.

  Krystal smiled at him. ‘I’ll take her home,’ she said. ‘We’ll see you when we see you.’

  The “dressing room” at the Seaview Folk Festival was just a backstage portacabin, but Willow was waiting there for him when he got there. He locked the door behind him and walked up to her.

  ‘Where were we?’ he asked, kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips.

  She pressed herself against him.

  ‘Skye says you’re not going back to London,’ he said. ‘She says you’re going to stay here and set up a business and buy a house.’

  Willow laughed. ‘Skye never could keep a secret. But I do have to go back to London to talk to Charlie and to put the flat on the market.’ She looked sad for moment.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s what I want to do but it’s just hard to think about. I’m going to be packing up twelve years of my life and starting over.’

  ‘I’m going to be making some big changes too,’ Luc said quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I meant what I said last week in the shop,’ he said. ‘I want to come back. I don’t want to move away from you again… but—’

  ‘Your record contract,’ Willow interrupted.

  He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. ‘I have to record this album in LA, and…’ He stopped, hesitating over what to say next.

  ‘Annelise,’ Willow said. ‘I know she always has to come first.’

  ‘I wish things could be different Willow, but Tennessee is Annelise’s home. It’s where she goes to school, where her friends and family are and I have to be there for her.’ He paused. ‘At least some of the time, because I also want her to spend time here on the Island too, to get to know the places where I grew up.’ His hand cupped Willow’s cheek. ‘Where we grew up. And I want to be here with you,’ he said. ‘I will always come back. I want to make music Willow, but not like this. Not with this pressure. I’ll go back and record this album, but then I need to make some big changes.’