Watching Willow Watts (30 page)

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.

W
illow 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 against the darkness of the country night. As they formed a circle around the flames, Willow grabbed a large black bin liner.

‘
Right. I
n 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 l
ips 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

O
VER 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, a
s 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 lo
unging 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.

‘
Tell them I’m not here!’ Jay yelled. Who could that be? He hadn’t thought anyone had known where he was. Would it be the police, maybe, if Willow had pressed charges?

‘
He’s on his way up!’ his mother shouted.

‘
Bollocks
.’ Jay scrambled to his feet. Trust Mum not to have heard he didn’t want visitors. Quickly pulling on the fluff-covered suit, he ran a hand through his hair and spritzed on some of his rapidly dwindling supply of cologne.

‘
Hiya, Jay. Or
Lewis
.’