Page 23 of What Would Dolly Do?

T he next couple of weeks were as incredible as they were unexpected.

I went back and forth between Forthview House and Sonny’s, alternating between songwriting sessions, getting to know Laura, Ferg and their two adorable kids, while also putting in shifts and overseeing the running of the bar.

I suddenly felt like I was living two lives.

I managed to swing by my flat while I was in town and quickly pack a bag with some more clothes and toiletries so that my new friendship gang didn’t think I was some sort of down and out, although they simply weren’t those sorts of people.

Not shallow, or judgemental or worried about designer labels or how much the things you owned cost. It was refreshing to be around; it did occur to me at one point that Guy and JoJo could do with spending time with folk like these but then I ticked myself off for allowing the gruesome twosome to pierce my consciousness in any way.

It felt so wonderful being inside this bubble.

It was actually more like a double bubble.

There were times I would completely forget that I was hanging out with Tom Coltrane, the famous musician, but then I would remember that not only was he incredibly well known but that I was somehow instantly part of his inner circle along with his sister and best friend.

They didn’t treat him as though he was any sort of big star so it was easy to let that fact slip your mind, but it didn’t make it any less true.

When I caught myself suddenly remembering, I would feel like pinching myself.

What was going on here? I hadn’t shared with anyone I knew what had happened between us, that we’d kissed in the club, gone back to his hotel room, fallen into bed and into this instant relationship where we fitted together like the missing parts of a jigsaw.

I hadn’t even let on to Stella or Donald.

Not that they’d have believed me if I did tell them.

I was finding it hard enough to believe myself.

I was also learning that a recording studio was just like a bubble in itself, like its own little world, separate from everywhere else, a sort of safe place where music was the currency and patience was the law.

So to be spending so much time at Ferg’s Forthview studio, while also staying inside the secret world of me and Tom, definitely felt like a double bubble.

I just hoped I wasn’t headed for double trouble.

But if I was looking for reassurance from the universe that everything was unfolding just as it should and things were meant to be, I found it one morning in the kitchen of Forthview House.

I was making a pot of coffee while Laura took the kids to school and nursery, and found myself taking a closer look at the painting on the wall I’d spotted on my very first visit.

The abstract design was distinctive and the more I looked at the guitarist drawn in rough black lines against splashes of red and green the more it reminded me of the twelve pictures I’d bought years ago from a market stall that now hung at Sonny’s.

I hadn’t heard Laura return but her voice caught me by surprise as I tried to read the artist signature in the corner.

‘It’s not exactly a great likeness but I think I did manage to capture his energy a little.’

I whirled around to find Laura behind me eyeing the picture with her arms folded and a critical look on her face.

‘You did this?’

She puffed herself up a little before confirming, ‘Yes, it’s mine.’

Not only was Laura the artist, the picture was clearly meant to represent her musician brother, Tom.

I peered closer so I could decipher the signature.

The tiny scrawl said ‘Feisty’ and I was sure when I returned to the bar it would match the signature on the set of original Laura Coltrane artworks I already owned.

I told her about the ones I’d bought and we were both incredulous at the coincidence at first but then Laura smiled at me and simply said, ‘It’s a sign.

’ I agreed completely: it did feel as though it cemented our instant connection, and anyway, I’d already learned you didn’t argue with Laura ‘Feisty’ Coltrane.

Back at Sonny’s, Stella and Donald were too delighted with the repercussions from the exposure Tom Coltrane had brought to the bar to be overly concerned about what I may or may not be up to when I wasn’t with them.

I made sure I pulled my weight with a decent number of shifts and liaised with Stella about what to put out on the socials and how to deal with the wider media.

The local evening TV news show did a piece about Tom’s surprise appearance and used lots of footage of Tom on stage in huge stadiums intercut with pieces to camera by a reporter in our tiny basement venue.

They found footage of Tom at Sonny’s that some of Saturday night’s audience had filmed on their phones and it all made a really great package that promoted the bar wonderfully.

It didn’t need an appearance from me, and Stella was more than happy to be a talking head while Donald silently wiped the bar down in the background and made sure he was in shot.

His fake nonchalant manner made me laugh when I saw the piece go out.

The story of Tom Coltrane’s impromptu gig went viral and popped up on national TV spots too.

There were radio phone-ins asking people to name famous people they’d seen in the unlikeliest places and a TV panel show debate about the merits of country music, using Tom’s surprise gig as a kick off point.

Some lunatic attempted to argue that country was the very worst of the music genres, but as the result of all that exposure Sonny’s was now consistently packed to the rafters and people were regularly queueing down the block to get in, so I didn’t bother getting offended.

I got a fabulous email from my bosses Scott and Gill Drummond congratulating me on getting Sonny’s Bar so much publicity.

I knew a lot of what had happened was down to luck but I was determined to work hard and capitalise on the opportunities that were coming my way.

Several well-known musicians got in touch to ask when they could come and do a gig in our ‘famous’ basement so I told Stella to start booking them in and advertise it all on our runaway social media platforms. The timing couldn’t have been better as the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was now just a couple of weeks away, which meant all kinds of stars were in town.

Every August thousands of visitors descend on our city for a month-long celebration of theatre, music and comedy.

Any available space in Edinburgh is turned into a venue of some sort, from cafes and pubs to hotel rooms and even office block receptions or people’s front rooms. Makeshift stages are erected, blackout curtains hung and the eternal cry of ‘let’s do the show right here’ can be heard echoing from every corner.

We would be too late to get into the official programme of events for the festival but by using social media I knew we would be able to make use of our new-found notoriety and get ourselves a piece of the festival action.

I told Stella to start booking a roster of acts for August and also publicise a new, regular Open Mic Night a couple of times a week too.

‘There will be loads of creatives and people into performing looking for something to do,’ I said, thinking on my feet.

‘We might even get some big names coming in and taking to our stage to unwind after their own show. It’ll definitely be popular with audience members who’ve been inspired by shows they’ve seen.

Let’s give those people a chance to shine. ’

‘To shine like a diamond in a rhinestone world?’ Stella had answered with a knowing smirk, quoting the Dollyism painted on the wall behind our very own stage.

‘Exactly!’ I knew Stella was teasing me but I could also tell she thought I was onto something and it felt good to have my ideas given some credit by her.

My head was in an absolute spin with everything that was happening and trying to be in two places at once.

I was the old Becky at Sonny’s but felt I was becoming someone slightly different as Rebecca at Forthview.

At least I had the journey between the two places to recalibrate into what was expected of me in each location and Tom insisted on sending Iain to ferry me back and forth to South Queensferry whenever I needed him which was a huge help.

I asked if he could park the big black Audi around the corner from the bar when he picked me up though.

I didn’t want to complicate matters with unnecessary speculation or questions.

I also found it a bit disconcerting to have a chauffeured car at my beck and call.

Disconcerting but amazing. I was a bit embarrassed by having a personal driver at first but I quickly decided I could cope with it.

I was in the car heading back towards Forthview early one evening when I started getting a stream of messages from Stella.

Then my phone started ringing. I’d been interviewing prospective new bar staff all day.

The sudden rush of interest and increase in customers along with our new Fringe plans meant we needed a few more bodies around the place.

I’d found a couple of keen newbies who could start soon with Stella and Donald showing them the ropes, put in an afternoon shift myself and then nipped off to where Iain was waiting for me down a side street.

It was all a bit cloak and dagger but I didn’t feel too bad as things were going so well now at Sonny’s.

Stella’s alarmed tone on the phone now told me things might not be as rosy as I’d thought.

‘Have you seen ‘em? There’s loads of ‘em. I dunno where they’ve all come from?’

My first thought was we had an infestation. Oh God. What could it be? Mice? Cockroaches? Rats?

‘Huh? Loads of what?’