Watching Willow Watts: One Country Girl Is About to Discover That Fame Can Cost a Fortune

by Talli Roland

  Cissy lifted her binoculars and focused on the heaving crowd. A lengthy queue stretched from the gate down the high street as people awaited entry. Lord knows how everyone would fit, but she’d wait until most of them were in.

  Then, with one simple call from the village’s old dilapidated phone box, she’d shut down this festival for once and for all.

  *

  Willow watched backstage as Jay spoke angrily with several police officers then took a piece of paper from them and shoved it in his pocket.

  ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, biting a lip. Clearly something wasn’t right – a muscle was jumping in his jaw and his eyes flashed. She’d never seen him look so fearsome.

  ‘Terrific,’ Jay spat out. ‘Just terrific.’ He took a deep breath then smiled, patting her shoulder. ‘Nothing you need to worry about. Just do a good job, and the festival will be a roaring success.’ He gestured toward the front of the stage. ‘Have you checked out the crowd? All here for you!’

  Willow shook her head. From the rising buzz of the people gathered out front, she knew the field was packed, but seeing it was another thing entirely. Maybe she should sneak a peek to prepare herself. ‘I’m just going to take a look.’

  She wound her way through the backstage maze, smiling and nodding at festival staff as her heart thumped louder and louder. Finally, she reached the wings, her eyes popping as she looked out. Shiiiit, she breathed, taking in the thousands of bodies squished together on the field.

  ‘Good turnout,’ a voice said, and Willow spun around to see Dean next to her, staring at the crowd with satisfaction. Despite their rather rushed sound check, they’d worked pretty well together and Dean had even told her she was passable.

  ‘Not up to my usual standard, of course, but not half bad,’ he’d said in his JFK Boston accent.

  ‘How do you get used to performing to this many people?’ Willow asked. He seemed so calm and unruffled.

  Dean shrugged. ‘You just do. Soak in the energy; let it pump you up. Feel the love, Marilyn. Feel the love.’ He put an arm around her waist, but Willow wiggled away. He was starting to freak her out with how much he resembled JFK. It was almost like being with a ghost. And feel the love? She couldn’t even feel her toes right now, she was that nervous.

  ‘Oh, there she is.’ Jay beckoned Willow over to where he was standing beside a woman wearing an expensive-looking gold sequined evening dress. Who the hell was that? She looked straight off the red carpet at the Oscars. ‘Willow, this is Madame Luna, Hollywood’s leading medium.’

  Willow’s mouth dropped open. This was Madame Luna? She’d been expecting someone with a raggedy turban and jangly gold jewellery, like the psychic Paula had dragged her to the one time a travelling fair braved Belcherton. Obviously being a medium in Hollywood was a lucrative career.

  Madame Luna exposed her pearly white teeth, tossing glossy copper curls over her shoulder. ‘Just Luna. And really, I do prefer to be called a star whisperer, not a medium. That term is so passé.’

  Jay nodded. ‘Sure, sure. Star whisperer, of course. Now, do you want to quickly run through your programme with Willow? We need to make sure she knows exactly how to act, and what to do when.’

  ‘There is no acting,’ Luna said in a withering tone, narrowing her eyes at Jay. ‘What I do is genuine. And I can tell – just by seeing her now – that the spirit of Marilyn lives on in this woman. It won’t be hard to call Marilyn to the fore and hear her speak.’

  Something shifted uncomfortably in Willow’s stomach and gooseflesh pricked her bare arms at the intense way the woman was staring at her. Like all those people gathering outside, Luna really did believe Marilyn was somehow inside Willow. Either that, or she was a very good actress – highly probable, given she lived in Hollywood.

  A bell sounded. ‘Thirty minutes, everyone!’ someone shouted over a megaphone. ‘Thirty minutes!’

  Luna smiled over at Willow and touched her back lightly. ‘I’ll see you on stage, dear. Looking forward to communing with you.’

  Willow nodded, starting to feel lightheaded again. Everything seemed to be getting crazier by the second, and time was relentlessly ticking toward her onstage appearance. She needed to sit down for a second on her own; try to gather her thoughts.

  She was just about to pull back the dressing room curtain when the unmistakeable whir of a helicopter hovering overhead drowned out all the backstage noise. Could that be some other celeb arriving? Willow covered her ears to block out the sound but it only got louder.

  ‘This is the police,’ a voice boomed over the whine of the helicopter blades. ‘Please evacuate the site immediately.’

  What? Was this some kind of joke?

  ‘This is the police,’ the voice said again. ‘I repeat, please evacuate the site immediately.’

  Willow rushed back toward the stage, trying to find Jay. Surely he wouldn’t pull a stunt like this . . . would he? Reaching the wings, she looked out at the field. People were pouring out through the gates, with police officers and dogs ushering them offsite in an orderly fashion. What the hell was happening?

  ‘Come on.’ Charlie and Dean appeared at her side. ‘Everyone’s legging it. We’d best get out of here, too.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Willow asked as they hurried toward the VIP exit. ‘Have you seen Jay?’

  ‘There he is!’ Charlie pointed a finger at the gate, where Jay was arguing furiously with a policeman. ‘Let’s go see what’s up.’ The three of them made their way toward the exit.

  ‘You can’t just shut it down!’ Jay was practically spitting with fury. ‘The council has sunk loads of money into making this concert happen. If you speak with Simpson Dyer over at the main entrance gate, I’m sure everything can be straightened out.’

  Uh-oh, Willow gulped. Whatever it was, it didn’t look good.

  ‘Down, boy.’ The policeman jerked the barking sniffer dog away from Jay’s crotch. ‘Sir, it’s my job to ensure the public’s safety. And I can’t do that until my team has combed every inch of this field and made certain there’s no bomb.’

  Bomb? Who would plant a bomb in the middle of a festival site? Willow looked over at Dean and Charlie, who appeared equally stunned.

  ‘How long will that take?’ Jay asked.

  The man shook his head. ‘Hard to say, exactly. Won’t need much time to comb through the field, but then we’ll have to check all the vendors, those Portaloos, backstage . . . I’d say this concert is certainly not going to happen tonight.’

  Willow let out her breath and stole a glance at Jay. Unsurprisingly, he was shaking with anger. ‘If I get my hands on whoever called in that bomb threat, I’ll – hey!’ He broke off as he noticed Dean walking away. ‘Where are you going?’

  Dean turned. ‘Well, there’s no concert tonight, is there? I’m heading to London. Sorry, don’t think I’ll make it out here again – I’m fully booked for the next six months. I only came on such short notice because of the fee you promised me. Oh, and speaking of the fee . . .’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ll expect it in my bank account tonight.’

  ‘What?’ Jay sputtered. ‘Fee! You’ve done nothing!’

  Dean took a menacing step toward him. ‘You promised me a fee for appearing here. I’ve appeared. It’s not my problem if the concert doesn’t go off.’ He lowered his voice so the policeman couldn’t overhear. ‘If you don’t feel like paying, I’ve got some people who might be able to convince you.’

  ‘Fine, fine, we’ll pay!’ Jay said quickly. ‘Willow, I’ll see you later. Charlie, you’ll get your money too. And Luna,’ he added, spotting the woman’s thunderous face. Dean took Luna by the arm and they strode off in the opposite direction toward another waiting helicopter.

  ‘What a fucking fiasco,’ Charlie said as the helicopter rose high in the sky and spun in the direction of London.

  ‘I know.’ Willow fell into step beside him as they went out the VIP exit. ‘Do you think they’ll be able to reschedule?’ Not having the concert
would mean not having the money. But the thought of performing to such crowds of people had been so overwhelming, she was almost relieved it hadn’t gone off.

  ‘I don’t know. This’ – Charlie threw out an arm toward the massive marquee and stage – ‘probably cost a lot of money to arrange in the first place. I can’t imagine the organisers will be able to shell out that amount anytime soon.’

  Willow nodded, signing programmes and other paraphernalia as they pushed through the crowd. Even though the performance wasn’t happening, the streets were still packed and with every move, someone grabbed onto her. Where was that elephant when she needed it?

  Finally, the two of them reached Willow’s door, and Charlie surprised her by giving her a quick hug.

  ‘You know, you’re one of the nicest people I’ve worked with. Just don’t let this crazy life change you, okay?’ He tweaked a curl, then waved goodbye.

  Willow let herself into the dark cottage, turning his words over in her mind. Funny how Dean believed the best thing in the world was the chance to be someone else. But here was Charlie, telling her to just be her. She had to admit, right now she couldn’t wait to get out of this get-up and be herself again, if only for the night. She flipped on the light, jumping as she noticed her father sitting on the sofa.

  ‘Dad! What are you doing?’

  Her father turned to face her, and Willow’s heart dropped as she noticed the pain in his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘She’s gone,’ her dad responded, his voice flat. ‘Betts. She’s gone.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JAY SANK ONTO THE EDGE of the stage, staring out at the now deserted field. It was hard to believe just an hour earlier, it had been packed with people waiting for the greatest Marilyn festival ever to begin.

  He thumped a fist and the floorboards shuddered beneath him. How the hell could it have gone so wrong?

  ‘Jay?’ He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Simpson looming over him. The old man awkwardly lowered himself to a sitting position. ‘Well, this is a fine state of affairs, isn’t it?’

  Simpson shook his head and it was all Jay could do not to shove the fool to the grass below. A fine state of affairs. More like a bloody fuck up! He’d been counting on this festival to really get things going. Not to mention all the money he’d planned to rake in from his commission on advance ticket sales. Thank God he’d sold those sly tickets on the side. That would help him keep up the big London agent act until the concert was rescheduled.

  ‘Let’s talk dates. I still think it’s best if we hold the event as soon as possible,’ Jay said, turning to face Simpson.

  ‘Jay, I’m sorry.’ Simpson patted his leg in a fatherly gesture and Jay tried not to shrug him off. ‘I know how hard you’ve worked for this to happen so quickly. But I’ve just been on the horn with the council, and they think it will take a couple months to process the insurance claim. And we need that money to reschedule.’

  ‘A couple months? But that’s autumn!’ Jay wasn’t going to wait until then to launch his London life and show that bitch Davinia what’s what. He’d waited long enough already.

  ‘I know it seems like ages,’ Simpson said, ‘but look on the bright side. With more time to plan, we can make the festival even bigger. And by rescheduling, we won’t have to refund the advance ticket sales, either.’

  Suddenly a thought entered Jay’s mind and he squared his shoulders. ‘Perhaps I could take my cut of the ticket sales now. You know, a sort of advance payment.’

  ‘I would if I could, son. But the council controls the accounts the sales were paid into and I reckon that, after what’s happened tonight, they won’t be touching any of the profits until the concert actually goes off.’

  ‘Well, they’ll have to pay Dean Denner. He’s demanding his fee now.’ Jay shook his head morosely. Signing Dean had been a major coup – one that would now go to waste.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises. Denner might just have to wait along with the rest of us.’ Simpson rose to his feet, grunting with the effort. ‘Good night, Jay.’

  Jay didn’t even bother responding; he was too busy figuring out how to get money fast. Thank God he had Willow, the one commodity he could count on. All she needed was a nice word in her ear and a good shag, and she’d do anything he asked.

  It wouldn’t take long to sort out something. He had a mile-long list of clubs, venues and organisations that had rung Willow’s mobile, desperate to book the new Marilyn. He’d put together a week in London, work Willow hard and start making his mark on the city as he watched the dough roll in. In the meantime, he’d set about organising an event so big it would blow this lousy festival to bits; maybe something along the lines of a national tour. Jay’s anger subsided and he forced a smile back onto his face. Everything would be all right.

  He still wanted to throttle whoever had made that fucking bomb threat, though. The police had departed an hour ago after concluding the whole thing must have been a hoax. Maybe it was just some bored loser looking for a little excitement. God knows Jay would be bored to tears if he lived in a shithole like this.

  Right, he’d better go line up some gigs for Willow next week. She had a very busy future ahead if she was going to make him the big bucks.

  *

  Carefully removing her suit, Cissy pulled on a satin nightdress and lay down on the bed. It was all over now – she’d managed to put an end to the festival, and no one would know it was her.

  It had been a stroke of genius, making an anonymous bomb threat to the site. With all the terrorism fears around these days, the police had to act – and fast. They’d turned up in full force, clearing the field quickly just minutes after she’d made the call. Of course, all the fans were still in town and the festival could be rescheduled. But Cissy was prepared to dial in as many threats as she had to. That man wouldn’t get his grubby hands on any money from Marilyn Mania.

  A smile curved her lips. For the first time in years, Cissy felt a tiny sense of satisfaction. She’d been angry for so long, and it felt good to actually do something about it. It wouldn’t get her money or reputation back, but that lying lowlife wouldn’t slither his way into the industry just like that. She owed herself – and him – that much.

  *

  Willow stared at her father’s sorrowful face. ‘Gone? What do you mean, Betts is gone?’

  Her dad gestured toward the stairs. ‘Go and see. All her things have vanished.’

  ‘She’s probably just . . .’ Willow tried to think of a plausible explanation. Surely Betts wouldn’t take off like that? ‘Something must have happened. Maybe an emergency with her kids?’

  ‘Her note just said she had to go home,’ her father responded. ‘No phone numbers, nothing. I don’t even know how to reach her.’ He took a sip from a glass of whiskey and Willow noted with alarm the bottle on the table was almost half empty.

  ‘Have you asked around? Someone must have seen her.’ Willow sat down beside her father and put a hand on his arm.

  ‘Everyone’s been busy with the festival, and then that bomb scare . . .’ Her dad swung toward her. ‘Are you okay? I’m sorry about your concert, love.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ The room fell silent as Willow struggled to think of something to make her father feel better. Finally, she clicked on the television and the two of them watched as the nightly newscaster talked his way through the day’s events, ending with a shot of a helicopter hovering over the field and the crowd scattering.

  The cottage shook as someone pounded on the door, and her father’s eyes lit up. ‘There she is. I knew she couldn’t . . .’

  ‘Hi, all.’ Jay appeared and her dad’s face dropped. ‘Willow, I thought I’d fill you in on everything next week. Just because the concert’s cancelled doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be busy!’

  ‘Jay, have you seen Betts?’ Willow asked, brushing aside everything else he’d said. Helping Dad figure out what had happened was the most im
portant thing right now.

  ‘Who? Betts?’ Jay shrugged. ‘She’s probably on her way back to wherever she came from. Stupid cow, I can’t believe she’d threaten the festival like that.’

  Her father stood, eyes flashing as he faced Jay. ‘That woman practically organised the whole bloody festival for you. I’m sure she had a good reason for going! How about a little respect?’ Her dad shook his head, then turned and stomped upstairs. By the stiff set of his shoulders, Willow could see he was hurting.

  ‘Right, let me talk you through everything next week.’ Jay sat down on the sofa her father had just vacated and started tapping away on his BlackBerry. ‘You’re going to be run off your feet. Everyone wants a piece of the new Marilyn.’ He flashed his teeth in a smile, but it didn’t feel like he was genuinely excited for her future career. Instead, it felt sort of . . . predatory. And Willow couldn’t believe how quickly Jay had dismissed Betts, after everything she’d done.

  Taking a deep breath, Willow told herself not to be silly. This was business, after all, and Betts hadn’t exactly acted professionally by leaving like that. It had been a long, stressful day for everyone, and frayed nerves were to be expected. Anyway, she should be grateful Jay had got something together so quickly. The next tax payment was looming.

  ‘We’re going to London!’ Jay said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ve made reservations at The Savoy.’

  ‘The Savoy?’ Willow squeaked. ‘Isn’t that really expensive? Maybe we should book somewhere like, I don’t know, The Holiday Inn?’ The less they spent, the bigger the profit.

  Jay looked at her as if she was about to sprout a moustache. ‘The Holiday Inn? Since when did you ever hear of Marilyn Monroe bunking down at the Holiday Inn? When Marilyn was in London, she visited The Savoy hotel. It’s only fitting we stay there. I’ve got us a suite.’