by Talli Roland
Willow sighed with relief that she wouldn’t have to wait too long. ‘Great. Thanks, Matthias.’
She hung up the phone, and Paula scurried over after tucking Mr Naughton safely out of earshot under a blasting hairdryer. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I think I might have found a way out of the contract!’ Willow quickly explained about meeting Cissy and Jay’s false identity.
‘For real?’ Paula shook her head, hair-sprayed fringe waving. ‘I mean, I knew he was sleazy, but I didn’t think he was a fraudster, too.’ She scooted behind the reception desk and opened Google. ‘What did you say his real name is?’
‘Lewis. Lewis Smelter.’ Willow spat out the words. She couldn’t believe she’d let him kiss her . . . and do other things that were now making her feel like she was going to be sick again.
Paula typed the name into the search box and hit enter, and the two stared at the screen as link after link appeared.
‘Oh my God,’ Willow breathed as she read the top result: Singer Jorgie Sues her Agent Lewis Smelter for Fraud. The image by the link showed Jay – Lewis – with his arm around Scotland’s best-loved pop-singer, obviously in happier times. Underneath it was another link: Jorgie Strikes Out of Court Settlement with Agent Smelter for One Million. And then: Jorgie’s Former Agent Lewis Smelter Declares Personal Bankruptcy.
Paula shook her head. ‘Well, there you have it. God, no wonder he was so desperate to hide who he really was. I kind of remember hearing something about Jorgie and a dodgy agent, a few years back. Who’d have thought it was Jay!’
‘I know.’ Willow was still having trouble digesting it all. ‘And the worst bit is, it wasn’t just Jorgie.’ She thought of Cissy, all alone in that dreary farmhouse, with only her old photos for company. ‘I’ve got to get out of the contract, Paula.’
The ring of the phone made them both jump and Willow’s heart banged against her ribs. Matthias couldn’t be calling back already, could he?
‘RockIt Hair, how can I help?’
Willow forced herself to breathe.
‘Oh, hey. Yes, she’s right here.’ Paula paused and Willow tried not to grab the receiver from her hand. ‘Okay, I’ll see you tonight.’ She handed over the phone, and Willow gripped it with sweaty fingers.
‘Hi, Matthias,’ she said in a strangled voice.
‘I’ve got your answer.’
Willow tried to decipher what it might be from the tone of his voice, but he sounded the same as always. ‘And?’
‘And the lawyers say that by the sounds of it the contract might be invalid, on the grounds that the agent is trying to obtain money by deception, amongst other things. You might even be able to call the cops on him if he deliberately tried to mislead you!’ Matthias said gleefully.
A tsunami of relief washed over Willow. Legs buckling beneath her, she collapsed onto a wooden stool. Beside her, Paula was shooting concerned looks and squeezing her arm tightly.
‘Say it again,’ Willow said weakly, afraid she’d somehow misinterpreted his words.
‘The contract is quite possibly invalid. But you know lawyers, won’t commit fully until they have every single detail in front of them.’
‘Oh my God.’ Willow lifted her head. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Look, I’ll be up tonight and I’ll give you a more detailed breakdown of what they said – and get the inside scoop?’
Willow nodded before realising he couldn’t see her. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
She hung up and turned to Paula, whose pale face was anxious and pinched.
‘Babes, don’t worry,’ Paula said. ‘We’ll think of something. None of us are going to let you go off with him again, even if we have to form a human chain around you!’ Her eyes flashed.
‘You don’t have to do that. The contract is invalid. Jay – Lewis – might even go to jail!‘ Willow stood and stretched out her arms, feeling all the tension and tiredness drain away. ‘I’m free, Paula. I’m free.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CISSY CLIPPED ON HER best pearl earrings and smoothed back her snow-white hair. For the first time in years – ever since she’d moved to Belcherton, in fact – she was attending a social engagement. And although she was sorely out of practice with chit-chat, she was actually looking forward to it. When Willow had rung up with an invitation for a small celebration tonight, Cissy’s first impulse had been to decline. She’d stayed away from socialising in the village for so long it seemed strange to join in now.
‘Please come. I’m sure everyone would love to get to know you,’ Willow had said, sensing Cissy’s hesitation.
Cissy had finally agreed. Now, staring at her image in the mirror, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment bubbled up. By sharing her information with Willow, it turned out Lewis wouldn’t be making a comeback in the showbiz industry any time soon. Even though that had been her original goal, strangely, it didn’t seem as important now. Saving someone else from a similar fate meant Cissy had finally been able to let go of the hurt and anger.
She dusted some powder across her cheekbones, then took a deep breath and eased down the stairs. After all these years – struggling to make a career, a reputation shattered, living a life a hermit would admire – could she finally be starting to find her way back to happiness?
*
‘Cheers!’ Willow lifted the champagne glass high in the air. ‘Here’s to being me again.’ She looked around her crowded lounge at the faces of friends and family. ‘I just want to say thank you to everyone who has helped me. I’ve got the best people ever supporting me.’
‘Cheers!’ the room chorused in response, raising Lordy’s finest bubbly. He’d ordered in a boatload of cases to meet the ‘highfalutin’ demands of the tourists, but since they’d tapered off, he’d given Willow some bottles before ‘they went bad’.
Catching sight of her reflection in the large mirror above the sideboard, Willow couldn’t help smiling. Paula had dyed her hair back to its usual chestnut brown right after the phone call from Matthias, and although it was shorter than it had been, Willow was ecstatic the blonde had left the building. She’d dressed up a bit for tonight, but the fitted khaki trousers and cotton shirt were a far cry from the tight dresses and pumps she’d sported as Marilyn. It was brilliant to be back in her own skin, even if she did weigh twenty pounds more.
She’d done her last bit of media with Matthias about an hour ago, discussing her situation with Jay, warning people to take the necessary precautions when signing with agents and, of course, explaining why she’d decided to stop being Marilyn. This time tomorrow, after it aired on television, the world would know she’d be retiring her role. Not wanting Simpson to suffer any possible backlash, she’d stayed quiet about the origin of the image in the YouTube video. Speaking out as Willow would probably be enough to subdue the Marilyn fans to a manageable level, and without any future gigs or festivals on the horizon, it would likely fade even more with time. Paula had mentioned the YouTube hits had slowed to a trickle.
The only person left to tell was Jay. And instead of being afraid, as she might have been before, Willow was looking forward to it. He was supposed to come by tonight to tell her all about the tour, and she couldn’t wait to let him have the bad news in front of her friends and family.
Willow tapped a spoon against the side of her glass. ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking your drinks and nibbles out to the back garden,’ she said, raising her voice so it carried over Paula and Matthias’s conversation at the back of the room. She smiled to herself. Despite Paula’s earlier protestations, there was obviously a spark of something more than friendship between those two. And now that Matthias’s hair had grown back a little and he’d lost some weight, he kind of resembled a clean-cut Jon Bon Jovi – right up Paula’s street. ‘Dad’s started a bonfire out there and I need your help.’
Grinning at their intrigued expressions, she herded the group out the back door and toward a corner of the garden, where a built-up fire flickered ag
ainst the darkness of the country night. As they formed a circle around the flames, Willow grabbed a large black bin liner.
‘Right. In here, I have all the extra padding, tights, corsets’ – she paused to take a deep breath – ‘make-up, bras and gloves that I needed to be Marilyn. I want you each to take one from the bag, and on the count of three, throw it in the fire.’ It was a bit naff, but she couldn’t resist getting rid of the hated accoutrements in the most dramatic way possible. And why not? Nobody was stopping her.
She passed around the bag, waiting until everyone in the circle had a piece in their hands.
‘Ready? One . . . two . . . three!’
A loud cheer rose from the group and Krusty started cawing excitedly as flames engulfed a flurry of objects. Soon, thick dark smoke was rising and Willow couldn’t help grinning even more as she watched the flames attack her fake arse.
‘Bye, bye, butt,’ she called, as others whooped at her words. ‘From now on, I’ll take what nature gave me.’
‘What the fuck is going on here!’ a voice shouted over the rooster’s frantic squeals.
Willow peered through the swirling smoke. Jay was approaching, and the expression on his face was anything but happy. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to hold her ground.
‘Hope you’re planning to replace all that before tomorrow,’ Jay said, jabbing a finger at the roaring flames. The burning items were unrecognisable now.
‘No, actually. I’m not.’ Willow took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. She heard a rustle behind her as the crowd moved with her.
Jay’s lips tightened. ‘You’d better. You have a six-month tour to embark on.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Willow said breezily, waving a hand in the air.
‘Your contract says otherwise,’ Jay spat.
‘I think you’ll find that contract is null and void, Lewis Smelter.’ Willow watched with satisfaction as Jay’s mouth fell open and the colour drained from his face.
‘How did you–’ His incredulous expression changed to fury when he spotted Cissy. ‘You. What are you doing here?’ Jay made a move in the older woman’s direction, but Mrs Lemmon stepped into his path, blocking him with a Zimmer frame.
‘You wrinkly cow.’ Jay thrust her aside, moving closer to where Cissy was standing. ‘What did you tell Willow? You just wait. I’ll . . .’ Before he could say more, Matthias and Lordy each took an arm to hold him back.
Willow clenched her hands as Cissy inclined her head regally. ‘Do what you like. You’ve damaged my life enough already.’ She took a steady step toward him, face filled with disdain as he struggled against Lordy and Matthias’s firm grip. ‘You’re finished now, Lewis. Finished for good.’
Willow moved up beside Cissy. ‘I think you’d better go, Jay. Lewis. Whoever you are, I want you off the property before I call the police.’ She leaned closer to him until she was right next to his ear. ‘And if you ever dare breathe in Cissy’s direction, you can bet I will call the cops and have you arrested for fraud.’
Jay let out a long breath like a hiss.
‘And stay clear of Belcherton, too!’ Lordy jerked Jay’s arm behind his back and Jay yelped as he was dragged into the house. The garden was silent except for the crackle of the fire and Krusty’s croaking until Lordy returned, wiping his hands. ‘That’s him taken care of, then. Went running down the street, whimpering like a little baby.’ Lordy turned to face Willow and Cissy. ‘More champagne?’
Willow nodded then reached out to take Cissy’s arm. The older woman was pale but composed, and Willow thought she spotted a new strength in her stance.
‘Thank you so much,’ Willow said. ‘If you hadn’t given me that information about Jay, Lewis, I’d be going off on tour tomorrow.’ She shuddered at the thought.
‘I’m just sorry I didn’t warn you sooner,’ Cissy sighed.
‘So why did you decide to talk to me?’ Willow asked gently.
‘Well, at first I just wanted to make trouble for Lewis. It didn’t seem right that he should have another chance, after everything he did to me.’ Cissy shook her head. ‘But then I saw you looking so upset, and I couldn’t let him get away with ruining someone else’s future. Enough was enough.’
‘Too right,’ Willow said with feeling. ‘Is there anything I can do to repay you?’
Cissy smiled. ‘No. Just . . . enjoy your life.’ Willow followed her glance around at the happy group of people chattering and laughing. The cottage was more alive than it had been in the past two years. ‘It looks like you’ve got a good one.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
OVER THE NEXT FEW weeks, Belcherton gradually regained its former tranquillity. Although the odd Marilyn fanatic popped in to see Willow, the crowds clogging the street had diminished to a manageable amount. Simpson’s new visitor centre remained on track, even though he’d been slightly peeved when he’d heard Willow wasn’t planning to be Marilyn any longer. Still, he’d been forced to concede that since Belcherton had been able to fix the fountain, re-tarmac the high street and hang potted plants – and for the first time in its long history, hadn’t been nominated for Britain’s Ugliest Village – Willow had benefited the village, regardless of her lack of iconic longevity. Not to mention she’d kept her mouth shut about what that image really was.
Thankfully, there’d been no further sightings of Jay, or Lewis, around town. Matthias had asked if she wanted to proceed with legal action against the agent, and Willow was considering it. She’d managed to get out of her contract and put an end to his career, but the man had acted criminally. Part of her wanted to see him get what he deserved – not to mention he still owed her a pile of money from her London performances.
But all of that – including her cash flow worries – now seemed miles away. For the first time in ages, Willow’s present was almost as good as the past. Sure, her small flower stand in a corner of the shop wasn’t much, but it was a new beginning, and it would finally help pay off the debt. Fingering a velvety petal, Willow recalled the moment when she’d finally started toward the life she wanted.
After a week’s break, Dad had asked for her help returning all the antique furniture to the shop.
‘Soon, everything will be back to how it used to be,’ he’d said, looking around the dusty confines.
The second the words had left his mouth, Willow had known this was the moment to act. She didn’t want things to go back to how they used to be. Sure, Belcherton wasn’t London and this wasn’t her shop, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t start reaching to her dreams right now.
‘Dad, how would you feel if I took that corner and made my own flower stand?’ Willow had asked, her mind already bursting with visions of vibrant blossoms tumbling from colourful buckets, the heady scent of lilies and roses in the air. ‘I’d take care of all the details.’ She’d start small; it wouldn’t be hard to source a few local suppliers. And if people had a reason to come into the shop, that might help increase antique sales, too. She’d bit her lip as she awaited his response. He’d say yes, right? And if he didn’t, well, Willow would find a way.
But her father’s glowing face made it clear he couldn’t be happier, and a few days later, Willow had made a corner her own.
The residents seemed to love the flowers and were always coming in to see her beautiful creations. Mrs Greene had even taken to buying a daily arrangement – although Willow often wondered if she remembered she still had one from the day before – and Simpson had awarded her the contract for the village’s hanging potted plants. The business finally had a steady revenue stream. Another couple weeks and she’d be able to write that cheque to Her Majesty’s Revenue & Customs, repaying the debt in full. Dad had returned all responsibility for the shop finances to her, and hopefully he’d never know how close the shop had come to ruin.
Now, as Willow stood gazing at the pails of bright colours in front of her, a memory floated into her consciousness, like a plastic bottle bobbing up to the top of
the sea: Alex, telling her that when she opened her own florist shop, he wanted to be the first customer.
‘And it’s not going to be for pink carnations or roses,’ she remembered him saying, his eyes full of warmth and desire. ‘I want a whole bouquet of South African Disas.’
‘It’s not exactly manly,’ Willow had retorted, smiling at the thought of handing him over the stunningly exotic flowers.
Alex had just smiled. ‘I know. But I won’t be keeping them. I’ll be handing them right back to the woman I love; the woman I’ll be so proud of.’ He’d pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tightly against him, his musky scent surrounding her as she breathed in the moment, willing herself to commit to memory just how happy she was.
A stab of longing hit her now. She’d love to share her small triumph with Alex; to show him he hadn’t been wrong to believe in her.
Don’t be an idiot, she told herself, blinking back the liquid clouding her vision. A corner in such dingy premises is hardly a shop.
But for the first time, Willow was certain she’d get there eventually.
*
‘Son! There’s someone here to see you!’
Jay sat up quickly from where he’d been lounging on the narrow bed, wondering over and over again how everything had turned out so disastrously. His mouth twisted as he remembered how he’d had to hitch-hike back from Belcherton, ending up in the back of a farmer’s truck with chickens. By the time he’d got home, his precious suit was studded with chicken fluff he was still picking off. Now, he was right back to where he had started – no big London agency and no posh penthouse flat. And with Willow and that sob story airing all over network TV, how the hell would he get anyone to sign with him ever again?
At his lowest moment yesterday, he’d even rung Davinia. Just one sound of her sexy accent would motivate him again, he’d told himself, and remind him just why he needed his life back: to throw it in her face. But instead of hanging up when she’d answered, he’d ended up pouring out his woes and even – he hung his head – sniffling. Davinia had listened in silence, then just clicked off mid-sniffle. The bitch hadn’t even thrown him a word.
