Page 10 of What Would Dolly Do?

T he way Gordon’s face lit up when he opened his front door and saw me standing on his step instantly quelled my lingering nerves. Next minute I was being yanked by the hand into the hallway and down to the kitchen at the back of the house.

‘Morag! … MORAG! Guess who it is come to see us? It’s our Becky … Look.’ He presented me with a flourish as Morag put her teacup down on the pine kitchen table she was sitting beside.

‘Becky hen, come in, come in.’ Morag didn’t rise from her chair but beckoned me towards her as she waved Gordon towards a large blue teapot standing on the stove. ‘Get another cup, Gordon, there’s plenty left in the pot. You’ll have a cup, won’t you, Becky?’

The small kitchen was warmed by the heat coming from the ancient old-fashioned range cooker and I was warmed by the beaming smiles the couple were giving as I opened the box of French fancies and found a place on the cluttered table to put them.

They were so chatty and happy I almost forgot everything that had happened and the fact I no longer worked at Grayson’s Jewellers.

Morag was telling me the doctors were pleased with her progress, she was recovering well from what she claimed had been a ‘mini’ stroke.

‘Just a warning, really,’ she insisted while Gordon took a bite of his coffee éclair and nodded in agreement although I spotted a look of concern flash across his face.

‘And what about you, hen? How are you doing?’ Gordon asked the question but they both looked at me expectantly.

What was the best way to broach this? I took time to finish my mouthful of flaky custard tart and dab my mouth with a piece of kitchen roll, reluctant to break the spell by talking about all the recent unpleasantness.

‘Oh well, you know, it’s all been a bit strange but I’m okay … I think?’ I gave an awkward little laugh and clocked they were smiling at me indulgently.

‘Starting a new job is always a bit odd, but look how quickly you settled in with us when you first started, isn’t that right, Morag?

’ Gordon bounced his silver head towards his wife.

‘I thought you were heaven sent, a real treasure, didn’t I say that, love?

You were like finding a rare jewel but I always knew we wouldn’t be able to keep you and you’d be on to new adventures before too long. ’

Morag was concentrating on pouring a second cup of tea for everybody but when she put the heavy teapot down I noticed she looked as though she was struggling to know quite what to say. Was that because of the after effects of the stroke or something else?

Eventually she found her voice but she spoke uncertainly: ‘I told Gordon you wouldn’t stay long in an old-fashioned little shop like ours.

Oh, I don’t mean you weren’t well suited to the job, you were a natural with the customers and picked up the business side so quickly, but you were clearly cut out for other things.

There’s something special about you, Becky, we’ve always thought so. ’

I wasn’t sure what to say. They were both saying lovely things, which in any other circumstances it would be a joy to hear but the elephant in the room couldn’t be ignored.

I hadn’t left Grayson’s by choice or because a new opportunity had tempted me away.

The custard tart I’d just wolfed down was now curdling in my tummy as I fought the urge to tell them just what I really thought of their precious …

predatory son. No parent wanted to hear terrible things about their offspring, that was a universal truth, especially a couple like Gordon and Morag who were so trusting.

I remembered how they’d always spoken of Guy and his American family with such longing before his sudden arrival back in Edinburgh after Morag’s stroke.

I’d got the distinct impression he hadn’t made much effort to keep in touch.

They’d never had a chance to get to know his wife JoJo and most of what they knew about their teenage granddaughter Kourtney was what they had gleaned from watching her TikTok videos.

I recalled Morag trying to show me one once and I’d feigned interest in some shakily filmed make-up tutorial delivered by a drawling teenage girl with swishy hair and gleaming gnashers.

Kourtney advised her followers – and Morag was so proud to tell me there were thousands – to apply a sweep of different colour shimmering shadow to each eye.

I thought it made her look unhinged but I’d managed to keep my opinion to myself that time.

Gordon and Morag may not be so fortunate today: I was itching to give them my full and frank assessment of the horrible little family who had decided to relocate to Scotland and their attempts to wreck my life while they were at it.

The uncomfortable silence as I agonised over what to say was eventually broken by Gordon.

‘When the police came to see us, I told them straight away, if Becky says she had permission to take those items then that will be the truth.’

Morag nodded slowly and added, ‘I told the officer, didn’t I, Gordon, it will be some sort of silly mix up. Guy must have got the wrong end of the stick.’

So Gordon and Morag had spoken up for me, but couldn’t bring themselves to think badly of their prodigal son.

It was a tale as old as time but I didn’t have the heart to confront them about it.

What good would that do me anyway? They were such a lovely couple and they also seemed to hold me in very high regard, despite everything.

That was a novelty I wouldn’t mind enjoying for a little longer.

I decided to direct the conversation towards my plans for Sonny’s Bar and away from the circumstances of my exit from Grayson’s.

Despite the fact I was desperate to get to the bottom of why Guy had behaved in such a dastardly fashion towards me, I chatted about all the ideas I had and what Stella and Donald were like.

‘You’ll soon have that place on the map I’m sure,’ Gordon said, ‘and I bet you’ll be booked solid in no time.’

I felt healed by the heat pumping from the range, the hot tea in my belly and the sheer positivity Gordon and Morag were lavishing on me.

I didn’t get to see my own mum and dad too often, with them living the high life in Spain most of the year.

I didn’t think I missed them all that much but, being here with the Graysons, I was realising what I was missing.

I didn’t want to do or say anything that would ruin it.

Home wasn’t a place, after all, it was people.

Morag suddenly started rooting around in one of the kitchen cupboards.

‘Where is that … I’m sure I put it in here …

maybe it’s … ahh here we go!’ She swung around to face us with a pink paper gift bag in her hands.

‘I couldn’t resist it when I spotted it.

It’s nothing much … I just saw it and immediately thought of you.

’ Morag looked a bit sheepish as she proffered the package towards me.

I took it but immediately felt my face flush. ‘Oh you really shouldn’t have, Morag, you don’t need to give me anything.’

‘Well don’t open it now, I just thought it might be nice to give it to you sooner rather than later. We didn’t get a chance to give you a leaving gift. Open it when you get home, when you feel like it. Hopefully it’ll make you smile.’

I sat cradling the gift on my lap for the rest of the visit, keeping Morag’s kindness close.

As we’d carried on chatting I’d caught sight of the kitchen clock on the wall and realised I had better start making a move.

I wasn’t on the rota to work a shift in the bar that night but after what had happened earlier in the day with Tom Coltrane I thought it was best if I put an appearance in.

I didn’t tell Gordon and Morag about my embarrassing encounters with the famous musician. I didn’t want to start a story that began with me on the steps of the police station and ended with me totally messing everything up. Again.

I did confide in them about the recent break-up with Robbie, though, and how that had led to me taking on the job at Sonny’s.

They seemed more interested in how this would affect my singing career than my love life.

Perhaps they had sensed Robbie was never ‘the one’.

I told them running the bar was my focus now and how I was planning on putting my Dolly stage costumes up for sale.

‘There might be another Dolly Parton tribute act out there who could make use of them, or some drama group could make pantomime dame costumes out of them maybe?’ I tried to laugh at that but the thought of Widow Twankey or Mother Goose wearing my rhinestones and tassels was actually too tragic for words.

‘Oh no, Becky, you mustn’t give up on your dreams.’ Morag leaned forward looking properly distressed at the thought of me jacking in the tribute act.

‘Well I’m not sure singing ‘9 to 5’ to drunken hen and stag parties is anyone’s actual dream.’ I was sending myself up while talking myself down and Gordon wasn’t standing for it.

‘You love performing and you’re good at it,’ he said.

I looked at him in shock: how did he know, had he ever seen me sing?

‘Quite a few of our customers have seen you perform you know, and they were always telling me how good you are. A couple of them told me you should be on Top of the Pops , not as Dolly but as yourself.’

He sounded convinced I could be the next big chart sensation but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the television music show he was on about hadn’t been broadcast for years.

I also didn’t want to admit that dressing as Dolly was the only way I was comfortable on a stage.

I waved away the compliments and made noises as though I was only kidding about hanging up Dolly’s cowgirl hat.