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

by Talli Roland

WILLOW JERKED AWAKE THE next morning, a strange scent filling her nostrils. Was that – she sniffed – bacon? What was her father playing at? He hadn’t cooked since . . . well, she couldn’t even remember. Best get downstairs and make sure he’d cut off all the fatty bits.

  She lifted her head, groaning as a stab of pain shot through it, courtesy of all the wine consumed last night with Jay. Straining, she tried to remember what had happened after their talk about her future as Marilyn, but it was all a bit of a blur. Jay had ordered bottle after bottle of red wine and they’d drunk it down, laughing and chatting about the village. When the bill appeared, Jay had whipped out a wad of cash, waving off Willow’s attempts to pay half. He must be a big name in London if he could strut around with that stack of bills in hand.

  They’d walked back to Belcherton along the busy motorway to avoid the fields, but Willow hadn’t minded. The harsh lights of passing motorists were a welcome reality check after the cocoon-like calm of the restaurant, where Jay had made signing up with him seem a logical next step. It certainly appeared to be, if he could help her make money. But still . . . what exactly did he mean by ‘new revenue streams’, and what would she need to do? He’d encouraged her to find him at the pub if any questions cropped up. She’d do that later today, when her head was clearer.

  Her heart leaped at the thought of seeing him again. Everything about Jay was just right: the way he’d taken her hand and squeezed it tightly; the way he’d stared into her eyes so intently. He did look like the hero on a Mills & Boon cover, and there’d definitely been a snap of something between them. When Jay had leant in to say goodbye, she couldn’t help hoping his lips would touch hers. Instead, he’d gone for the cheek. He was what her dad would call a real gentleman.

  The sound of clanging pots and pans echoed up the stairs and Willow jumped out of bed, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt before heading downstairs. She stopped short at the sight of a plump woman with curly hair framing a pleasant, wide-featured face.

  ‘Who are you?’ Willow asked, rubbing her eyes. Was there really a woman cooking bacon in her kitchen?

  The woman swung around and the eggs in her hands crashed to the floor. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said in an American accent, thumping a well-endowed chest in disbelief. ‘Oh my! You’re not – you can’t be – he didn’t tell me . . . You’re the Marilyn girl from the video! I’d recognise you anywhere, even without the wig and dress.’

  Willow sighed and grabbed a tea towel, crouching to clean up the mess on the floor. Honestly, it was way too early for this.

  ‘Sorry,’ the woman said, bending down to help. ‘It was just such a shock.’ She stared at Willow. ‘Well, you don’t resemble Marilyn much. But I know if she chose you, there must be something there! It’s such an honour to meet you. Can you sing? Oh please, sing Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend for me. I love that song.’

  Willow shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’

  The woman stuck out a meaty hand. ‘Betts Johnson, from the United States. I’ve travelled all this way to meet you.’

  ‘Um . . .’ Willow tried to think of an appropriate response, but even with people packing the streets, she still couldn’t get her head around someone flying off to a foreign land because of comments on a YouTube video. ‘Wow,’ she said weakly. ‘And what are you doing here?’ She gestured around the kitchen.

  ‘When I came into the village last night, I couldn’t find a place to sleep, so your wonderful father offered to let me stay here.’ Betts grinned over at Willow, who couldn’t help softening a little under the infectious warmth. ‘Hope you don’t mind me doing some cooking. It’s my way of saying thanks for letting me stay.’

  ‘No, no. That’s fine.’ Willow yawned and eyed the bacon. She could really do with some grease right about now.

  ‘Sit down there, honey.’ Betts pushed her firmly into a chair at the table, grabbed a plate and served up a generous helping of extra crispy bacon with scrambled eggs. ‘Gosh, it’s all so exciting! Have you seen the campsite yet? That nice man at the tourist centre told me people are setting one up in a field at the other end of the village. I can’t wait to say hi and get to know everyone. After all, we’re all one big happy Marilyn family.’

  Willow stared as Betts bustled around the kitchen. One big happy Marilyn family?

  ‘And more are on the way,’ Betts said breathlessly. ‘One World Marilyn is arranging excursions here now, after Madame Luna confirmed Marilyn has indeed passed “the remnants of her aura” to you. This place will be packed!’

  Willow nearly choked on her bacon. Madame Luna? Remnants of her aura? This was starting to get out of control.

  Krusty released an ear-piercing squeal and Betts jumped.

  ‘Rooster! Be quiet!’ Betts yelled out the window. Willow couldn’t help grinning at Krusty’s surprised squawk, but Betts’s bellow seemed to have done the trick and all was silent from the back garden. Ah, so maybe that was why Krusty hadn’t let out his usual crack of dawn chorus?

  ‘Morning.’ Willow’s father appeared from the hallway. Willow’s eyes widened as she took in his ironed cotton shirt and khakis, quite a departure from his normally rumpled look.

  ‘Morning, Dickie! I’m just making you breakfast.’ Betts stirred a pot on the hob.

  Willow examined her bacon intently to stop herself giggling. Dickie? Her father’s name was Richard and she’d never heard him referred to as Dickie. Was that some kind of American thing? She risked a glance to see his reaction, but Dad was happily settling into the place beside her.

  ‘It’s lovely to have a hot breakfast in the morning,’ he said, smiling over at Betts. ‘Any bacon left?’

  Willow was about to jump up and remove the meat’s fatty bits when Betts interrupted. ‘There’s no bacon for you, Dickie. Not after what you told me last night about the state of your health! I’ve made some porridge with bananas. Healthy and filling.’

  Willow waited for the usual stream of protests to emerge from her father’s lips but he just nodded meekly and tucked into the bowl set in front of him. Finally, someone he listened to.

  ‘I’m going to head over to the campsite now,’ Betts said a few minutes later, when the plates were empty. ‘Willow, why don’t you come with me? I’m sure the people down there would love to see you.’

  Oh God. ‘Er, I’d love to, but I have to help Dad in the shop.’

  Her father shook his head, eyes twinkling. ‘Go ahead. I’ve got a surprise for you and I need you out of the shop, anyway.’

  Willow shot him a suspicious look, but his face wasn’t giving anything away. Probably one of those old sewing machines he was obsessed with. She sighed inwardly, wondering how much he’d paid for it.

  ‘Okay,’ Willow said, pushing back from the table. She had to admit, she was kind of curious to see this campsite. It was hard to believe all the accommodation options of Belcherton and beyond were booked up. Granted, those options were rather limited – opening a hotel in the village pretty much equalled bankruptcy.

  A few minutes later, she and Betts were strolling down the high street toward the East Field, where ‘Dickie’ had told them the camp was located. It was still early, but the usually empty streets were alive with tourists on the look out for – judging by the mobiles and cameras suddenly being shoved in their direction – Willow.

  Turning her head away from the flashes, she caught sight of something that made her eyes pop. What was that hanging from the lamppost? It couldn’t be flowers, could it? Shading her eyes against the bright sun, Willow peered up. Yes, it was – a hanging basket of wilted pansies, but flowers nonetheless! Well, this was a surprise. Willow had tried for years to convince Simpson to pretty up the village by putting flowers here and there. But Simpson had always said the budget couldn’t stretch that far and although he’d tried a few plastic flower arrangements in the information centre slash bus shelter, that was as far as he’d gone.

  ‘Oh, there it is. Look!’ Betts pointed toward a rolling field with a few
rows of tents and curls of campfire smoke rising into the sky. ‘Come on. Let’s say hello. I can’t wait to meet everyone.’

  Willow swallowed hard as she took in the site. People darted between tents and the hum of voices drifted toward them. She could even hear some music – the faint sound of a female voice crooning; Marilyn Monroe, she’d bet. Already, a quarter of the green space was covered and even as she stood there, people were arriving and staking their claim. What would it be like in a few days’ time, when more fans arrived?

  She shook her head, watching the tiny figures in the field. She had to accept it: she’d seen from the pub that people did believe she had something to do with a dead icon. And now, judging by the sight in front of her eyes, it wasn’t just a few overeager punters coming to town, it was a rapidly-expanding colony. Jay was right – Marilyn Monroe did have tremendous sway, and if this whole thing was about to engulf the town anyway . . . maybe she should ride the wave to make things right with the shop.

  When she was done saying hello here, she’d track down Jay and have that chat about just what he had in mind if she signed his contract.

  Willow turned to Betts and threw her a smile. ‘Let’s go.’

  *

  Jay rubbed his eyes as he sat up on a padded bench in the pub. After telling the owner he was here to help the village cash in and he needed a place to stay, Lordy had handed Jay the keys and said to make himself comfortable. It was spartan at best, but at least he had all the beer he could drink at his disposal.

  Today was the day Willow would sign up – Jay could feel it in his aching bones. He’d played it just right so far: hadn’t scared her with too many details, performed the part of a gentleman to perfection. Now all he had to do was dial up the romance and keep shovelling shit about helping her family and the village, and she’d be his faster than he could say boob job. And when she did sign, life could finally get on track. His mouth twisted with disgust as he picked a bit of chewing gum off his suit leg. After all that business in Edinburgh, the sooner he got a life sorted in London, the better.

  Jay strolled down the high street, eyes honing in on the curvy denim-covered rear of a woman hurrying along in front of him. Now that would be a nice diversion to pass the time in this dump. Quickening his pace, he followed her over to a hair salon, watching as she unlocked the door. With faded linoleum tiles, chairs mended with duct tape, and a beat-up counter, the place looked on its last legs. Judging by the appearance of the village residents, he could see why. It was clear they didn’t go in for many beauty treatments.

  ‘Hello there,’ he said, leaning his arms on the battered metallic countertop and putting on a mega-watt smile.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The woman threw a flirtatious grin back at him. With a perky nose and big blue eyes, her face was just as good as her arse. The phone rang and she stuck up a finger. Jay examined it carefully, noting the lack of a wedding band. Not that it had stopped him before, but he preferred women to be at his beck and call.

  Tapping his foot impatiently, he half-listened as she confirmed an appointment for perm and toner.

  ‘Now, then.’ The woman turned toward him and winked. ‘What can I do for you, handsome?’

  Jay ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m new in town and I’ve heard this is the place to meet beautiful women.’ He gave her an appreciative look, pleased to see a smile on her face. Christ, this was going to be easy. ‘And if they’re all like you, I can see I’m right.’

  ‘If you find women over sixty attractive then yes, they’re all gorgeous.’ She tossed back her curly hair and leaned closer.

  ‘What do you say you come over to mine for a drink? Say, around one?’ Lordy didn’t open up until late-afternoon, and the pub would be quiet and deserted – the ideal conditions to get a leg over.

  ‘Love to, but the salon is going to be swamped today. I’ll have to take a rain check.’ The phone rang and the woman turned away. ‘Gotta go.’

  Jay nodded, still smiling despite the irritation curling inside. Playing hard to get, was she? Living in this wasteland, he couldn’t imagine any woman not jumping at the chance to touch his bod.

  He’d try again soon. This broad would fall under his spell, just like most women did. And once he was raking in the dough, Davinia would succumb to him again, too. He couldn’t wait to show her he was back in the game, then push her right off his playing field.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WILLOW SWIVELLED BACK AND forth on a chair in Paula’s salon as she waited for her friend to finish up. The place was practically empty now except for the bulky form of Matthias Clodington – again! God, those TV correspondents were vain; Matthias just couldn’t seem to stay away from RockIt, despite being practically bald now.

  ‘So how long will you be in Belcherton?’ Paula was asking as she shaved the sides of his head even closer.

  Matthias shrugged. ‘Not sure, really. It depends on how things go here. Did you know the YouTube video has now reached almost a half a million views? And I heard a rumour Channel Ten wants to do a reality show on you, Willow.’

  ‘A reality show?’ Willow shook her head. What were they going to film – her standing around, smiling? It would be the world’s most boring television, that was for sure.

  ‘Anyway, we’ll be running an hour-long special programme tomorrow night on the latest developments here, and after that I might have some down time. Perhaps we could have dinner together, if you’re free?’ Matthias asked, smiling up at Paula.

  Ah, so that was why Matthias was hanging about. Paula seemed to have an inexplicable power over men – all she had to do was crook a finger and throw them a grin, and they came running.

  Paula shook her head. ‘What is it with you out-of-towners? Do you think you can just come in here and ask out the poor country women? I had some bloke hitting on me earlier, too. He was fit, but I like to make my men work hard, you know?’

  ‘I know,’ Matthias responded with feeling.

  ‘There, done.’ Paula gave his head a final buzz.

  ‘Perfect.’ Matthias nodded enthusiastically, even though his hair was so shorn on the sides, his gleaming scalp was visible beneath. Easing out of the chair, he handed over some pound notes and left the salon.

  ‘Phew, what a day,’ Paula said, wiping away the last traces of black kohl from under her left eye. ‘I’m exhausted. Wanna come back to mine? There’s a Bon Jovi special on Biography.’

  ‘I’d love to, but I really need to talk to Jay.’ Willow had meant to head straight to Jay’s base at the pub after greeting the fans at the campsite. Instead, she’d got suckered into helping Mrs Greene and Mrs Lemmon bake endless banana loaves to sell to the hungry hordes – for three quid a slice! Willow protested it was slightly exorbitant, but the two older ladies ignored her. After that, Paula had waved to her from outside the salon, and Willow had ducked in for a quick chat.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to ask how it went last night!’ Paula stopped sweeping up locks of hair carpeting the salon floor and glanced over.

  ‘It was good.’ Willow flushed, recalling Jay’s fingers clutching hers.

  ‘Only good?’ Paula raised an eyebrow. ‘So are you going to sign with him?’

  ‘Maybe. I just need a few more details. I’m off to talk to him now.’ Part of her still couldn’t believe she was actually thinking about it. This time last week, signing up with a London agent would have seemed about as believable as Mrs Lemmon pole dancing. But the opportunity to help the shop was way too big to pass up without serious consideration, and Willow had seen from the campsite just how huge this thing was getting.

  ‘Well, I think you should go for it. It’s a great chance, and if it was me, I’d have been twirling down the street in full Marilyn gear long ago!’ Paula attacked the hair on the floor again. ‘Anyway, it’s not like you’re busy doing something else. Ever since you came home, you’ve just been helping out your dad.’

  Willow flinched. Paula was right, but between worrying about her father and the shop, she h
adn’t had the mental space to even think about trying to rebuild a life for herself here. The Willow who’d enthusiastically whipped up stunning floral arrangements felt like she’d been buried under an avalanche of anxiety.

  ‘Where are you meeting him? I’ll walk you over.’ After shoving the broom behind the counter, Paula linked arms with Willow and the pair pushed through the crowd that had gathered out front, waiting for Willow to emerge. As they made their way down the street toward the pub, Paula stopped abruptly in front of the bus shelter cum tourist information centre. ‘What’s happening here?’

  A forest of helium balloons printed with Marilyn’s face festooned the rickety metal contraption. Clad in a tuxedo, Simpson was handing them out to passersby.

  ‘Willow Watts!’ Simpson’s face lit up when he spotted her.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, taking the balloon he offered her.

  ‘We’ve finally got the funds to build the new tourist centre!’ Simpson beamed. ‘I’ve been trying for years, but the council always told me we never had enough visitors. Well, thanks to that video, now we do. Here’s hoping they keep coming.’ He drew her into an enthusiastic hug, then pulled back. ‘And I’ve just passed by your father’s shop. You should see the big surprise he has for you! I know he’s found it difficult since your mother passed on, dear. It’s good to see some life back in Richard.’

  Willow nodded, her mind racing. The surprise! What could Dad be planning? With the campsite, the banana loaves, and trying to meet with Jay, the whole thing had slipped her mind. She’d better get over there fast and see what he’d been up to. Jay would have to wait a few more minutes. Waving goodbye to Simpson, she grabbed Paula’s hand and the two of them ducked around people on the street. The bell tinkled as Willow opened the door to Watts’s Antiques.

  ‘Dad! I’m—’

  Whoa.

  Willow’s eyes popped as she took in rows and rows of neat merchandise. Neat Marilyn merchandise. Heart thumping, she rushed over to the glass cabinet, which had once held silver cutlery but was now full of horrible plastic Marilyn Monroe figurines. Marilyn singing in that white dress, Marilyn posing beside JFK, Marilyn with Joe DiMaggio, Marilyn . . . doing almost everything imaginable!