Watching Willow Watts (22 page)

The man gave a short, barking laugh. ‘Yeah, right. The number of times we hear that. Come on. Let’s go get your passport and then you’ll be on the next flight back to America. Now, are you going to make this easy and tell us where you’re staying, or do I have to make a scene here?’

‘
Heavens, no. I
t’s just down the street.’ Betts pointed in the direction. ‘But what’s going to happen with the festival? It won’t be cancelled, will it?’ she asked as the man dragged her away, thankfully draping his jacket over her cuffs so people wouldn’t see them. She couldn’t bear it if all her hard work went down the drain because of some silly visa. Who knew you needed one to work in the UK? And all for a piddly fifty pounds!

‘
No,’ the man said. ‘But whoever’s in charge will
be served a fine, and we’ll have to make sure there aren’t any other illegal workers involved.’

Betts let out her breath. Phew, at least the show would go on. ‘Here we are,’ she said, relaxing slightly as they stopped in front of the house. Dickie wouldn’t have left for the festival just yet. He could explain she’d never meant to do anything wrong; she simply hadn’t realised the need for some special bit of paper. They couldn’t shove her out of country just like that, could they?

‘
Dickie!’
Betts opened the door.

The house
was silent and still.

‘
Dickie!
’ Betts’s heart started beating fast and she could feel damp patches spreading under her blouse. He had to be here. He
had
to!

‘
Madam, please get your passport.’ The immigration officer was tapping his foot, looking bored. He eyed the antiques with distaste.

‘
But I have to wait until Dickie comes home. I can’t just leave without saying goodbye!’ Betts’s breath was coming now in fast gasps, her chest rising and falling.

‘
You should have thought of that before you decided to break the law,’ the man said officiously. ‘Now, come on. Find the passport, or I’ll have to search the premises.’

Betts pictured Dickie’s lovingly procured artefacts scattered across the floor, and swallowed hard. ‘Okay.’ She went slowly up the stairs, hoping upon hope Dickie would burst through the door at any moment. Goodness knows where he was right now. Unable to cope with the influx of visitors for the festival, he’d shut the shop and taken the weekend off – the first time in years, apparently – and said he was looking forward to spending it together. That wouldn’t happen now.

Betts
trudged to her bedroom, the bed still neatly made since she’d spent last night in Dickie’s room. Memories of their tender evening flooded into her head, and she put a hand to her heart. Gosh, she wanted more times like that.

Hastily throwing as many clothes as possible into her case, she grabbed her passport from the bedside table and jammed it into her purse. Her beautiful vacation had come to this – leaving the country in disgrace. Surely she’d be able to call Dickie from the police station? They wouldn’t keep her locked up like some criminal, would they? She had to see him!

‘
You have one minute,
’ the immigration officer’s voice boomed from downstairs.

Betts took a final look around the room then grabbed a pen and notepad from her purse. She’d write a quick note to say she’d had to go home, just in case Dickie noticed all her things were missing before she had the chance to call and fill him in. After bumping down the stairs with her bags, she ducked into the kitchen and propped the note where Dickie was sure to find it: right next to Krusty’s feed.

‘
Goodbye, Krusty,’ Betts
called softly out the window. He croaked in response and tears filled her eyes, then she turned to go.

*

Cissy watched as
the gates opened and thousands upon thousands of people swarmed onto the festival site. In just ten minutes, the empty field was teeming with a giant, moving mass of Marilyn fans. Cissy sniffed – she could have been that popular, too, if she’d been able to make it to America. Imagine, all these people coming to see her . . .

She pulled herself back t
o reality with steely determination. Timing was critical to ensure maximum disruption and she needed to keep a close eye on things. Thank God she’d thought up a solid plan; she’d watched the swarm of officers take away that Betts Johnson, and the festival was still going ahead like nothing had happened. That had certainly not been one of her brighter ideas. A small shard of guilt stabbed at her, but Cissy pushed it away. If the woman had been working illegally, then she deserved to be kicked out. British jobs for British workers and all that!

Cissy
lifted her binoculars and focused on the heaving crowd. A lengthy queue stretched from the gate down the high street as people awaited entry. Lord knows how everyone would fit, but she’d wait until most of them were in.

Then, with one simple call from the village’s old dilapidated phone box, she’d shut down this festival for once and for all.

*

Willow
watched backstage as Jay spoke angrily with several police officers then took a piece of paper from them and shoved it in his pocket.

‘
Everything okay?
’ she asked, biting a lip. Clearly something wasn’t right – a muscle was jumping in his jaw and his eyes flashed. She’d never seen him look so fearsome.

‘
Terrific,’ Jay
spat out. ‘Just terrific.’ He took a deep breath then smiled, patting her shoulder. ‘Nothing you need to worry about. Just do a good job, and the festival will be a roaring success.’ He gestured toward the front of the stage. ‘Have you checked out the crowd? All here for you!’

Willow shook her head. From the rising buzz of the people gathered out front, she knew the field was packed, but seeing it was another thing entirely. Maybe she should sneak a peek to prepare herself. ‘I’m just going to take a look.’

She wound her way through the backstage maze, smiling and nodding at festival staff as her heart thumped louder and louder. Finally, she reached the wings, her eyes popping as she looked out.
Shiiiit
, she breathed, taking in the thousands of bodies squished together on the field.

‘
Good turnout,’ a voice said, and Willow spun around to see Dean next to her, staring at the crowd with satisfaction. Despite their rather rushed sound check, they’d worked pretty well together and Dean had even told her she was passable.

‘
Not up to my usual standard, of course, but not half bad,’ he’d said in his JFK Boston accent.

‘
How do you get used to performing to t
his many people?’ Willow asked. He seemed so calm and unruffled.

Dean
shrugged. ‘You just do. Soak in the energy; let it pump you up. Feel the love, Marilyn. Feel the love.’ He put an arm around her waist, but Willow wiggled away. He was starting to freak her out with how much he resembled JFK. It was almost like being with a ghost. And feel the love? She couldn’t even feel her toes right now, she was that nervous.

‘
Oh, there she is.’ Jay beckoned Willow over to where he was standing beside a woman wearing an expensive-looking gold sequined evening dress. Who the hell was that? She looked straight off the red carpet at the Oscars. ‘Willow, this is Madame Luna, Hollywood’s leading medium.’

Willow’s mouth dropped open.
This
was Madame Luna? She’d been expecting someone with a raggedy turban and jangly gold jewellery, like the psychic Paula had dragged her to the one time a travelling fair braved Belcherton. Obviously being a medium in Hollywood was a lucrative career.

Madame Luna exposed her pearly white teeth, tossing glossy copper curls over her shoulder. ‘Just Luna. And really, I do prefer to be called a star whisperer, not a medium. That term is so passé.’

Jay nodded. ‘Sure, sure. Star whisperer,
of course. Now, do you want to quickly run through your programme with Willow? We need to make sure she knows exactly how to act, and what to do when.’

‘
There is no
acting
,’ Luna said in a withering tone, narrowing her eyes at Jay. ‘What I do is genuine. And I can tell – just by seeing her now – that the spirit of Marilyn lives on in this woman. It won’t be hard to call Marilyn to the fore and hear her speak.’

Something shifted uncomfortably in Willow’s stomach and gooseflesh pricked her bare arms at the intense way the woman was staring at her. Like all those people gathering outside, Luna really did believe Marilyn was somehow inside Willow. Either that, or she was a very good actress – highly probable, given she lived in Hollywood.

A bell sounded. ‘Thirty minutes, everyone!’ someone shouted over a megaphone. ‘Thirty minutes!’

Luna smiled over at Willow and touched her back light
ly. ‘I’ll see you on stage, dear. Looking forward to communing with you.’

Willow
nodded, starting to feel lightheaded again. Everything seemed to be getting crazier by the second, and time was relentlessly ticking toward her onstage appearance. She needed to sit down for a second on her own; try to gather her thoughts.

She was just about to pull back the
dressing room curtain when the unmistakeable whir of a helicopter hovering overhead drowned out all the backstage noise. Could that be some other celeb arriving? Willow covered her ears to block out the sound but it only got louder.

‘
This is
the police,’ a voice boomed over the whine of the helicopter blades. ‘Please evacuate the site immediately.’

What? Was this some kind of joke?

‘
This is the police,’ the voice said again. ‘I repeat, please evacuate the site immediately.’

Willow rushed
back toward the stage, trying to find Jay. Surely he wouldn’t pull a stunt like this . . . would he? Reaching the wings, she looked out at the field. People were pouring out through the gates, with police officers and dogs ushering them offsite in an orderly fashion. What the hell was happening?

‘
Come on
.’ Charlie and Dean appeared at her side. ‘Everyone’s legging it. We’d best get out of here, too.’

‘
What’s going on
?’ Willow asked as they hurried toward the VIP exit. ‘Have you seen Jay?’

‘
T
here he is!’ Charlie pointed a finger at the gate, where Jay was arguing furiously with a policeman. ‘Let’s go see what’s up.’ The three of them made their way toward the exit.

‘
You can’t jus
t shut it down!’ Jay was practically spitting with fury. ‘The council has sunk loads of money into making this concert happen. If you speak with Simpson Dyer over at the main entrance gate, I’m sure everything can be straightened out.’

Uh-oh,
Willow gulped. Whatever it was, it didn’t look good.

‘
Down, boy.’ The policeman jerked the barking sniffer dog away from Jay’s crotch. ‘Sir, it’s my job to ensure the public’s safety. And I can’t do that until my team has combed every inch of this field and made certain there’s no bomb.’

Bomb
? Who would plant a bomb in the middle of a festival site? Willow looked over at Dean and Charlie, who appeared equally stunned.

‘
How long will that take?’ Jay asked.

The man shook his head.
‘Hard to say, exactly. Won’t need much time to comb through the field, but then we’ll have to check all the vendors, those Portaloos, backstage . . . I’d say this concert is certainly not going to happen tonight.’

Willow let out her b
reath and stole a glance at Jay. Unsurprisingly, he was shaking with anger. ‘If I get my hands on whoever called in that bomb threat, I’ll – hey!’ He broke off as he noticed Dean walking away. ‘Where are you going?’

Dean turned.
‘Well, there’s no concert tonight, is there? I’m heading to London. Sorry, don’t think I’ll make it out here again – I’m fully booked for the next six months. I only came on such short notice because of the fee you promised me. Oh, and speaking of the fee . . .’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ll expect it in my bank account tonight.’

‘
What?’ Jay sputtered. ‘Fee! You’ve done nothing!’

Dean took a menacing step toward him. ‘You promised me a fee for appearing here. I’ve appeared. It’s not my problem if the concert doesn’t go off.’ He lowered his voice so the policeman couldn’t overhear. ‘If you don’t feel like paying, I’ve got some people who might be able to convince you.’

‘
Fine, fine, we’ll pay
!’ Jay said quickly. ‘Willow, I’ll see you later. Charlie, you’ll get your money too. And Luna,’ he added, spotting the woman’s thunderous face. Dean took Luna by the arm and they strode off in the opposite direction toward another waiting helicopter.

‘
W
hat a fucking fiasco,’ Charlie said as the helicopter rose high in the sky and spun in the direction of London.

‘
I know.’ Willow fell
into step beside him as they went out the VIP exit. ‘Do you think they’ll be able to reschedule?’ Not having the concert would mean not having the money. But the thought of performing to such crowds of people had been so overwhelming, she was almost relieved it hadn’t gone off.