He stopped talking but she didn’t say anything. She stepped away from him, leaning against the table in the corner that was covered in empty beer bottles and half-eaten plates of sandwiches. He felt his stomach clench at the thought that she might not want this as much as he did, that he’d taken a risk that might not pay off.
‘Are we mad?’ he asked.
She tilted her head to one side, looking at him.
‘No,’ she replied at last. ‘We were mad to ever walk away from each other in the first place. This is our second chance and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. Besides—’ she smiled ‘—I’m my own boss now; I can do what I like. I can always come to America to see you, if you want me to.’
He hadn’t wanted to ask, to presume or put pressure on her but when she said those words he grinned, relief washing through him.
‘I’d love that,’ he said simply. ‘I love you.’
She walked back to him, back into his arms.
‘We’ll figure it out, Luc,’ she said. ‘As long as we have each other.’
He looked at her, the woman he had loved for his whole life, and he knew she understood. He knew that she’d wait for him and Annelise, that she’d be there for them both and he knew he and his daughter were safe.
‘I can’t believe you told me you loved me in front of everyone like that.’
When she smiled it lit up the whole room. He loved that smile.
‘We’ve spent too many years running away,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to run from this anymore.’
He felt her hands on his hips. ‘Me neither,’ she said. ‘I stayed away because of my parents, but what they’ve done with their lives doesn’t matter anymore. The Island is my home.’ She looked up at him. ‘You’re my home,’ she said quietly and he knew that what she said was true: Willow was his home and wherever he was, however far apart they were, he carried her with him.
He bent to kiss her but she stopped him, ducking her head. ‘How long will you be away?’ she asked.
‘I’ll be back before Christmas,’ he replied and she stood on tiptoe, her lips brushing his. He pulled her towards him, deepening the kiss, losing himself in her.
How could he resist?
Epilogue
June 2019
Willow smoothed down the front of her cream silk dress and scrunched her bare feet into the sand.
‘Are you ready?’ she whispered to Annelise.
Annelise looked up at Willow and nodded.
‘Off you go then,’ Willow said.
Luc’s daughter had taken her job as flower girl extremely seriously and had been practising for days. Willow watched her now walking up the makeshift aisle in the gazebo on the beach as she scattered red and cream rose petals on the sand, a look of intense concentration on her face. Willow felt a giggle bubble up in her throat as she watched and had to swallow it down.
It was her turn.
She followed Annelise, feeling the sand underneath her toes as she walked. Luc turned around to look at her, and when he grinned her heart flipped over.
But she had a job to do and so she carried on walking past Luc towards the celebrant who stood at the front of the gazebo smiling beatifically.
When Willow got to the front she stood next to Annelise, who slipped her little hand into hers and gave it an excited squeeze.
‘You did really well,’ Willow whispered and Annelise nodded solemnly.
And then it was Skye’s turn. She walked into the gazebo on the arm of her father to the opening notes of an acoustic version of Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World”, Skye’s favourite song. She looked magnificent, her cream silk dress clinging to every curve, her hair falling down her back in waves. They’d bought their dresses together at the shop in Ryde where they’d bought Willow’s red dress the summer before.
‘Should we both be wearing cream?’ Willow had asked.
‘Of course we should,’ Skye had replied as they’d stood in front of the mirror while Delia pinned the dresses to fit them both. ‘That way we’ll match in the photos!’
Willow snuck a glance at Bob now as he stared at his future wife walking towards him and she was sure she saw tears in his eyes.
As Skye approached the celebrant, her father kissing her on the cheek as he took his seat, she handed Willow her bouquet of cream roses and stepped towards Bob. And as the celebrant began the wedding ceremony Willow looked around at all the people here today to celebrate Skye and Bob – Tom Newell and old Mrs Cartwright from the sweet shop, her father and Krystal, her mum and the man who she’d finally got used to calling Neil, Rocco Beezon standing at the back in dark glasses trying and failing to look inconspicuous next to, of all people, Roger Beck. Rocco hadn’t been officially invited but when he’d turned up with Don to celebrate the wedding of ‘the best tattoo artist I’ve ever known’ nobody was going to turn him away.
And Luc.
Luc, who’d only been back on the Island for a week, but it already felt like he’d never been gone. Luc, looking so beautiful in his white shirt and linen suit. Luc, who couldn’t stop looking at her any more than she could stop looking at him, even though they were both meant to be looking at Skye and Bob.
Everybody she loved, right here on this beach, on this Island.
Willow thought her heart might burst.
*
Later as Willow stood on the beach waiting to be called by the photographer, she felt an arm around her waist, a kiss on the side of her neck.
‘Hello, you,’ she said.
‘You look so beautiful,’ Luc said. ‘I can’t stop looking at you.’
‘I don’t think I’m meant to be the centre of attention today,’ she laughed.
They stood together quietly watching the photographer try to persuade Bob’s dad to take off his tie and shoes like everyone else. Bob’s parents weren’t quite accustomed to Island life yet and everybody cheered when his dad finally capitulated. Willow leant into Luc’s warmth, his strength as his arm tightened around her. It was so good to have him back.
And this time he was back for good.
He’d come back before Christmas just as he’d promised he would, his album recorded, but he’d had to go back to Nashville after a couple of weeks to spend Christmas with Annelise. Willow felt like she had spent most of the spring flying back and forth across the Atlantic as Luc tried to balance promoting his new record with seeing his daughter. Then, the week after the record was finally released he surprised her by turning up on the doorstep of the house she’d just bought near the cliff where he’d first kissed her the summer before.
‘I’m free,’ he’d said. ‘I’m out of contract and I can do what I want.’
‘And what do you want, Luc?’ she’d asked.
‘To come home,’ he’d replied.
In those few days of April when he was back, and Seaview was enjoying an early heatwave, Luc explained that he’d come to an arrangement with Annelise’s mum. He’d had to tell her everything that had happened over the previous summer of course, had to tell her that Storm Tyler was Annelise’s grandfather. She’d taken it better than he’d expected and agreed to be more flexible so that Annelise could get to know her families on both sides of the Atlantic. He’d still have to spend time in Nashville but he wanted to be based on the Island, with Willow. And Annelise would be spending the summer with them.
‘If that’s OK with you?’ Luc had asked.
‘Of course it is,’ she’d replied, wrapping her arms around him. ‘Nothing would make me happier.’ And she showed him the small back bedroom of the house that could be Annelise’s.
‘What will you do once you’re back?’ Willow had asked.
Luc had thought of that too and he and Cathy had already been plotting.
Willow’s mum had been wanting to move to France with Neil but had no idea what to do about The Music Shop or the studio.
‘I’ll have to sell them,’ she’d said. ‘But whoever buys them will be taking on Tom Newell as we
ll. I haven’t got the heart to get rid of him.’
‘I’ll buy them,’ Luc had said. ‘I can cope with Tom, but I do have a condition.’
‘What condition?’ Cathy had asked.
‘You keep making your mandolins. We’ll work out the logistics later, but The Music Shop is nothing without your bespoke instruments.’
Cathy had smiled, nodding. ‘I have a condition of my own though,’ she’d said. ‘I want you and Willow to keep the festival going, and I want you to keep playing at it.’
Luc had held out his hand. ‘Deal,’ he’d said.
And just like that everything had fallen into place.
‘Serendipity,’ Skye had said when she found out.
Willow stood now on the beach amongst all the people she loved and thought back to the last wedding she’d been at just a year earlier. So much had changed.
‘We should do this,’ Luc said, interrupting her thoughts.
‘Do what?’
‘Get married.’
Willow turned around to look at him. ‘Lucien Harrison, are you asking me to marry you?’
Luc shrugged and grinned. ‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘OK then,’ Willow replied, laughing.
‘OK,’ Luc said, kissing the top of her head.
‘What are you two laughing at?’ Annelise asked, appearing from nowhere.
‘Oh nothing much,’ Luc replied. ‘But how would you like to be a flower girl again sometime soon?’
Annelise frowned as she thought about it. ‘No I don’t think so,’ she replied. ‘It was quite hard work. Anyway I have to go now, I promised Grandpa Neil I’d play guitar with him.’
‘Grandpa Neil?’ Willow asked as Annelise ran off again. ‘She’s definitely taken all of this in her stride. Do you think she’ll be OK about us?’
‘About me asking you to marry me?’ Luc said.
‘Yeah, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable about anything.’
‘Oh she’ll be fine,’ Luc said. ‘It was her idea anyway. She told me to ask you.’
‘Oh well if Annelise says we should get married then we definitely should.’
Luc laughed, kissing Willow again. ‘I love you,’ he said.
Luc and Willow’s Playlist
Castle Kelly’s – Damien O’Kane
Ticket to Ride – The Beatles
Somewhere in My Heart – Aztec Camera
Gamble Gold – Steeleye Span
The Original – Incubus
Pompeii – Bastille
Flowers in Your Hair – The Lumineers
Iris – Goo Goo Dolls
Howl – Florence and the Machine
Nearly Forgot my Broken Heart – Chris Cornell
Last Goodbye – Jeff Buckley
Metal & Dust – London Grammar
America – Simon & Garfunkel
With You – Dan Gautreau/Wolfgang Black
Yours – Russell Dickerson
Time Has Told Me – Nick Drake
The Man Who Sold the World – Nirvana (from MTV Unplugged)
Acknowledgements
I grew up in a house full of books and records so I suppose it was inevitable that one day I would write a book about music! One of my earliest memories is listening to Steeleye Span’s “All Around My Hat” with my dad and hearing “Gamble Gold” for the first time. I loved that song and made Dad play it over and over again until I learned how to work the record player myself. I suspect my parents ended up hating that song!
I’m indebted to several people for the expert knowledge of niche subjects that helped me write this book. Firstly, I owe the entire contents of Chapter Three to Bex Ackland and her dad Peter Beckett. Peter was part of the crew that set up The Reading Festival in the early days and I had one of the most interesting telephone conversations of my life with him back in the autumn of 2018. Being Peter’s daughter Bex got to be backstage at Reading when she was sixteen (to see Nirvana no less) and I’ve been hearing about it since we were at university! It’s good to put those stories to use at last. Thank you both so much!
Thank you to Jacki Badger and her dad Chris Evans for answering a lot of weird questions about mandolins, to Islander Rebecca Evans for answering another bunch of weird questions about living on the Isle of Wight, to my brother for knowing an awful lot about Digital Audio Tapes and my husband for knowing how guitars and ukuleles are actually made (including all the correct terms, rather than ‘you know that hole in the middle’).
Thank you to my beta readers Katey Lovell and Lauren North for reading a very early draft of this book and encouraging me to keep going despite a bunch of setbacks way beyond my control. Thank you to my agent, Lina Langlee, my editor Hannah Smith and the whole team at Aria Fiction for seeing the potential in my little book about an obscure song I used to love as a child. Particular thanks to Lisa Brewster and the design team at Aria for the best cover I’ve ever had. I’ve waited years to having bunting on a cover! And thank you to Helena Newton for another brilliant copy edit – I’m sorry that I use the word ‘suddenly’ so much.
Thank you to my usual team of cheerleaders – Max, Sarah, Natalie, Lisa, Rachel and Rachael. One day we will be in post-Covid times and meet again!
Thank you to everyone on Twitter and Instagram who cheers me on and thank you to the book bloggers and reviewers.
And big, huge thanks to you the reader – whether this is your first Rachel Burton book or your fifth I am indebted to you for buying it so that I get to make up weird stories for a living!
About the Author
RACHEL BURTON has been making up stories for as long as she can remember and always dreamed of being a writer until life somehow got in the way. After reading for a degree in Classics and another in English Literature she accidentally fell into a career in law, but eventually managed to write her first book on her lunch breaks.
She has spent most of her life between Cambridge and London but now lives in Yorkshire with her husband and their three cats. She loves yoga, ice hockey, tea, The Beatles, dresses with pockets and very tall romantic heroes. Find her on Twitter & Instagram as @RachelBWriter or follow her blog at rachelburtonwrites.com. She is always happy to talk books, writing, music, cats and how the weather in Yorkshire is rubbish. She is mostly dreaming of her next holiday....
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The Summer Island Festival Page 27