The Summer Island Festival

by Rachel Burton

  The Laurels went on hiatus. ‘We’ll be back,’ Krystal had told a music journalist. ‘Just as soon as the kids are a bit older.’ But in the meantime, Krystal and Cathy were alone a lot while Don took as much work as he could, mostly in London but sometimes further afield, sometimes touring for weeks at a time. Cathy missed him when he was gone, but she also loved being at home with Krystal and the babies. She had never thought a life so simple could bring her such pleasure.

  ‘Do you trust him?’ Krystal asked as the two women sat on the beach staring out to sea, as Krystal tried to settle Luc again. ‘Do you trust Don when he’s touring?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Cathy replied.

  ‘I just wondered, after Storm—’

  ‘Don isn’t Storm,’ Cathy interrupted. Nobody will ever be Storm, she thought to herself but pushed the thought away. She couldn’t allow herself to think about him, not now she had been given a second chance at happiness.

  It was Don who came up with the idea of the folk festival when he came back to the Island that autumn.

  ‘We’ll just keep it small,’ he said. ‘Just playing in the pubs in Seaview and see how it takes off. It could commemorate the festivals of the Seventies.’

  ‘It would be better than those festivals,’ Cathy said. ‘We’d show everyone how it can be done without trashing the Island, without putting all the locals offside. We’d have to make sure there was something in it for them, trade for the pubs obviously, but also for the shops and hotels.’

  It started as something small, a celebration of folk music and a way of enabling Cathy and Krystal to play again and allow Don to spend a bit more of each summer at home. It had begun as a gathering of friends and like-minded people and an opportunity for new bands. Nobody had any idea how important it would become in all their lives and the lives of their children.

  *

  Cathy and Krystal sat on the beach watching their children playing in the sand nearby. Nearly two years had passed since Don first came up with the idea for the festival and behind them they could hear the music, laughter and applause from one of the pub gardens – one of many gigs at the inaugural Seaview Folk Festival. Neither woman spoke; they just sat and absorbed the atmosphere, absorbed their own happiness, the sensation of achievement at what they had managed to organise.

  Eventually Don came to join them. He opened a bottle of cheap fizzy wine and poured it into plastic cups.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, holding his cup aloft. ‘We did it.’

  They all took a drink as Willow came over to sit on Don’s knee. She had been a daddy’s girl since she was a baby, always settling quicker for Don, always missing him when he was away. Cathy had never minded; Willow was such an easy child to be around – happy and content no matter where she was or who she was with. It had been a godsend for Cathy that Willow was happy to be looked after by their neighbour over the last few months while she’d been planning the festival. It had been immensely hard work and had involved calling in a lot of favours, not just from the other residents of Seaview but from all their old musician friends in London. She’d been surprised how many Don had convinced to play – some even just for the price of a pint and a sofa to sleep on. So it had been good that Willow had been happy with whoever was looking after her.

  Krystal hadn’t been so lucky. Luc was still as difficult as he had been when he was a baby and still found it hard to settle.

  ‘Would you like to come sit with us?’ Krystal called to him. He hadn’t followed Willow over, which was a surprise as he usually followed Willow everywhere.

  He shook his head and pointed to his ears and turned his back on his mother.

  ‘Music,’ Krystal said. ‘He’s always happy when he’s listening to music.’

  Cathy knew that feeling, knew that she too was happiest when music was playing. But nothing made her as happy as playing the music herself. That high that she got from playing live had never left her, not since that very first gig in the pub in Green Park, the gig where she played a duet of “Gamble Gold” with Storm at the end. During the early planning stages of the festival Cathy and Krystal had tossed around the idea of getting The Laurels back together for the last night. They’d gone back and forth for a couple of weeks until Don came back off tour and convinced them it was a brilliant idea.

  ‘What about Luc?’ Krystal had asked. ‘Who can I leave him with when I play?’

  But Don had thought about that too. Out of all of them Don seemed to be the one who Luc got on with the most, the one who Luc would settle with. Cathy would often come home to find Don lying on the sofa with both children asleep on top of him. She had never worked out if it was because Don wasn’t there all the time or just his general laid-back energy that made both kids so fond of him.

  Don had noticed how music affected Luc too.

  ‘If we’re playing,’ he’d said, ‘then maybe Luc will settle with someone else while he listens.’

  They’d tried out Don’s theory in rehearsals. They’d practised in a room at the back of The Three Doves, the pub that was putting on most of the gigs during the festival. They’d kept everything as quiet and acoustic as possible to protect the children’s ears, buying them ear defenders for the festival itself.

  And Don had been right, Luc had settled as he’d listened to them. Staring at his mother, his face a mask of amazement and joy. Willow had been less interested but Willow, even at two, could entertain herself while they played, with her picture books and her building blocks.

  Krystal drained her fizzy wine and stood up. ‘I’m going to take him back to the pub garden for a bit,’ she said. ‘Let him watch the musicians.’

  Don nodded.

  ‘See you later for the gig,’ Cathy said excitedly. She’d been looking forward to this for weeks; she couldn’t wait to start playing again.

  As Krystal picked Luc up and took him back towards the pub, Don pulled Willow into a hug and draped his other arm around Cathy’s shoulders.

  ‘If tonight goes well,’ he said, ‘we could start talking about touring again.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Cathy asked. She missed touring more than anything. When they’d first come to the Island she had been glad of the peace and quiet, of staying in one place for longer than a couple of nights, but two years on and she was itching to get back on a tour bus, to play night after night to a different audience. ‘What about the kids?’ she asked.

  ‘They’d come too.’

  Cathy gave him a dubious look.

  ‘It worked for Paul and Linda McCartney,’ Don said. ‘Why not us?’

  Why not us indeed, Cathy mused.

  ‘I know you miss it,’ Don went on. ‘And all I want is for you to be happy, to give you everything you want.’

  Cathy looked at him then, her handsome husband who she had first set eyes on when she was eighteen, supporting King Silver at the Astoria in London. And she looked at their beautiful daughter and thought about the gig they were going to play later.

  She had everything that she could ever want right here.

  Except…

  Cathy looked away again, towards the sea, a worm of guilt eating into her stomach. Planning the festival and rehearsing for the gig tonight had brought it all back. She had started to remember those early days of touring, being on the road with The Laurels, being on the road with Storm.

  She’d thought about Storm a lot over the last few months and about how brilliant it would be if he could have played at the festival. And she had realised that, despite everything, she missed him.

  That, despite everything, she was still in love with him.

  28

  Willow

  As they drove across the Island, back towards Seaview, Willow was glad Luc had come for her, glad that she was returning with him. One of the reasons she’d been avoiding going back to the Island was not knowing how she would react when she saw Luc. Her emotions were all over the place after everything that had happened, and she could still remember the gentle warning in Luc’s
voice when she’d told him about Charlie taking Kate to the Maldives. She’d been a fool to think it was innocent. She’d thought she would be angry with Luc for being right, for charming her again, for stealing her heart, for not telling her about his daughter.

  But when she’d seen him sitting in the hotel foyer waiting for her, she hadn’t felt anger at all. She’d felt relief. Somebody cared enough to come and find her, to see if she was all right. Seeing him had made her feel anchored and reminded her that she had a home, a family, people who loved her.

  Even if Luc wasn’t going to be part of that after the festival.

  Willow could make sense of a few things now at least – why everything had felt so off between her and Charlie, why she suddenly hadn’t seemed good enough for him. It hadn’t all been to do with seeing Luc on American Stars.

  If it wasn’t for the fact that Storm Tyler still couldn’t be found, Willow could almost pretend that everything was going to be fine. She knew she had to concentrate on the festival, and she had to get one of her parents to talk because she was convinced they both knew more than they were letting on and one of them at least could tell her where Storm was these days.

  Luc pulled the Jeep up outside Cathy’s house and Don came to the door to greet them. Willow ran towards him, straight into his arms and she felt like a little girl again. She didn’t see Don enough; she didn’t see any of her family enough anymore. Over the years she’d put them to one side so she could create her dream life with Charlie. Don Warwick and Cathy Cole hadn’t fitted into any of Charlie’s five-year plans, so Willow had cut them out, pretending she was fine with that, swallowing down her real feelings for the sake of presenting a united front with Charlie.

  Was that the reason why they were keeping things from her now? Because she’d tried to live a life without them?

  ‘Thanks for bringing her home,’ Don said to Luc as he returned the car keys.

  ‘No problem,’ Luc replied. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Luc, wait,’ Willow said as Luc turned to go. He stopped on the path and walked back towards her as Don went inside, giving them some space.

  As Luc approached her, Willow reached up to touch his face, just for a moment. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for coming to get me, for showing me that people care about me.’

  ‘Anytime you need me,’ Luc said, his voice a whisper.

  ‘You’re my best friend, Luc. Whatever happens at the end of this summer I want us to stay in touch this time.’

  Luc smiled. ‘Can I see you tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in The Music Shop.’

  Luc nodded once and disappeared into the gloom as he walked back towards the beach, towards his apartment.

  Willow didn’t know what she was going to do when he went back to America.

  *

  Luc arrived at The Music Shop early the next morning with two coffees and two pastries. It was exactly as it had been all summer, except today he brought his daughter as well.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as the door closed behind him, the bell jangling. That slow lazy smile spread across his face and her heart skipped a beat. She looked away from him, turning her attention towards his daughter.

  ‘Hi, I’m Annelise,’ the little girl said with a lot more confidence than Willow had ever had at seven. ‘And you must be Willow.’ She was Luc’s daughter through and through – the eyes, the smile, even the dimple. She could see the little boy he used to be in Annelise.

  ‘That’s right,’ Willow replied, catching Luc’s eye as she bent down to shake Annelise’s hand. Luc winked at her, his face full of pride.

  ‘Willow is a pretty name,’ Annelise mused. ‘Please may I look at some guitars?’ Willow glanced at Luc to check that it was OK and he nodded.

  ‘Do you play guitar?’ Willow asked, turning to the racks of guitars on the wall and picking out a couple of half-size ones that might be suitable.

  ‘Daddy’s teaching me,’ Annelise said. ‘I’ve only been learning for a year though so I’m not as good as him yet.’

  ‘Give it another year,’ Luc said. ‘And she’ll be better than me.’

  Annelise turned to her father and beamed. The look of love that passed between them melted Willow’s heart and reminded her of how things used to be with her own father, how far she’d let everything slip.

  And it reminded her of the life that Luc had across the Atlantic, far away from her and the Island.

  Luc helped Annelise with the two guitars that Willow had selected for her.

  ‘Why don’t you try them both out?’ he said. ‘While I talk to Willow for a bit.’

  Annelise nodded, a look of intense concentration on her face as she started to play one of the guitars, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. Luc stood next to Willow, leaning on the shop counter.

  ‘She’s very confident,’ Willow said.

  ‘She wasn’t always like that,’ Luc replied. ‘She was so shy when she first came to stay with me, scared of everything. Mum worked hard to get her to trust us. I can’t take any of the credit really. I had no idea what I was doing.’ Willow could feel the tension in his body as he spoke. It was no wonder his anxiety had been so bad, the amount of pressure he seemed to put on himself.

  ‘But you taught her to play like that,’ Willow said, looking over at Annelise. ‘She’s really good.’

  Luc smiled. ‘The music seems to have really helped her confidence,’ he said. ‘She’s obsessed with learning guitar.’

  ‘Just like her dad. You were only ever really interested in music too.’

  Luc caught Willow’s eye, holding her gaze for a moment. ‘Not just music,’ he said.

  They stood and drank their coffees, watching Annelise.

  ‘Something weird happened last night,’ Luc said, his voice barely more than a whisper, clearly not wanting his daughter to hear or ask questions.

  ‘What?’ Willow asked, looking towards Annelise. She didn’t know much about young children but she did know that they heard a lot more than adults thought they did.

  ‘Your dad called me, not long after I dropped you home. He’s worried about you.’

  ‘He doesn’t need to be.’

  ‘Doesn’t he?’ Luc asked.

  ‘No, I’m OK, really. Is that all Dad wanted, to tell you he was worried?’

  ‘No, he wants us to meet him here this afternoon. Just the two of us. He has something important to tell us.’

  ‘Something so important that he couldn’t tell me about it?’ Willow said, raising her voice slightly above a whisper and noticing Annelise turn around to look at them.

  ‘This afternoon,’ Luc whispered. ‘One-thirty.’

  He turned back to his daughter. ‘Which guitar would you like?’ he asked her.

  ‘This one,’ she said holding the one with the blue spiral patterns around the sound hole. Willow knew she’d pick that one; it was so pretty.

  ‘Well why don’t you bring it over so Willow can find you a case for it?’ Luc said. ‘Did you know that Willow’s mum made that?’

  Annelise looked at Willow, her mouth an “o” of surprise. ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘Yup,’ Willow replied. ‘She’s been making guitars since I was as little as you.’

  ‘I’m not that little,’ Annelise announced. ‘I’m seven years and seven months old.’ Willow found herself doing the maths in her head. Luc would only have been twenty-two when she was born, the same year that Willow was doing her internship at the bank. She shook the thought away.

  ‘How much do I owe you?’ Luc asked, taking his credit card out of his wallet.

  Before Willow got a chance to tell him Annelise ran to the door of the shop.

  ‘Daddy, look,’ she said. ‘Monty is here!’

  Tom Newell was walking past with his strange-looking black and white dog.

  ‘Can I go out and say hello?’ Annelise asked.

  ‘Sure,’ Luc replied. ‘But don’t go where I can’t see you.�
�

  Willow wasn’t used to this version of Luc. It was bad enough that she thought she was falling in love with him all over again, without seeing him like this. It was disarming her, and it hurt her heart to know that nothing could happen between them now, that Luc’s priorities were elsewhere. It reminded her of her own priorities too.

  ‘She’s only been on the Island a few days and she knows more people than I do,’ Luc said as he punched his PIN into the credit card machine. He caught Willow’s eye and for a moment everything stopped mattering…

  ‘I’d better go,’ Luc said, stepping away from her.

  ‘Save Annelise from Tom’s endless conversation.’ Willow smiled.

  ‘I’ll see you at one-thirty,’ he said as he left.

  *

  ‘Your mum has emailed Storm Tyler,’ Don said as he turned the sign on the door of The Music Shop to “Closed”. ‘I didn’t want her to but she has. She wants him there for the festival.’

  ‘You’ve known how to get in touch with him all this time and you never told me?’ Willow asked in disbelief.

  ‘Is he coming?’ Luc asked at the same time. He was standing next to her, his hand on the small of her back.

  ‘He hasn’t replied,’ Don said.

  ‘You’ve known where he is all this time and you never said anything?’ Willow repeated. ‘I know you knew him years ago, that you toured with him and I know Mum was there when he recorded that tape, but you never said a word. All those afternoons we sat here and played together, and you never mentioned it. You knew how worried I was about the festival. Why didn’t you tell me how to get in touch with him weeks ago?’

  She stopped and stared at her father. Don rubbed a calloused hand over his stubble, as he closed his eyes.

  ‘You never asked,’ he said. ‘Not outright. And I didn’t want him here on the Island. I never wanted to have to see him again.’

  Willow didn’t reply straight away, she didn’t know what to say and was grateful when Luc broke the silence.