Page 25 of What Would Dolly Do?

N ext morning I was awake before anyone, even the kids.

I made my way downstairs to the kitchen and opened the French doors to the garden while I made myself a coffee.

Then I pulled one of the mismatched dining chairs to the doorway and sat with my bare feet resting on the stone step looking out across the large lawn and slightly unkempt but colourful borders.

The nearest neighbours to Forthview House were a little way away, shielded from view behind tall trees.

The closest road was down the long, winding driveway and at that time in the morning I couldn’t hear any traffic.

The plot the house stood on was elevated but you couldn’t see the Firth of Forth from where I sat, the estuary and bridge were only visible from an upstairs window.

Here, at ground level, it felt like I was in a hidden oasis.

Private and secret, a world away from my real life.

I thought about that some more. What was my real life?

Who was I now? It was easier to identify the things I’d left behind; I no longer worked at Grayson’s Jewellery shop; I was no longer Robbie’s on/off girlfriend (girlfriend?

Who was I kidding? We’d been each other’s booty call!).

Had I also called time on being a Dolly Parton tribute act?

That one was harder to know. Up until the Saturday night’s open mic night at Sonny’s, I had been thinking I could re-establish myself as a solo Dolly artist on the tribute circuit.

I’d been planning to get some new publicity material sorted and let some of the agents Robbie and I had often worked with know my new act would be available for bookings.

But the unexpected appearance of Jack Tinker as ‘Dolly Partly’ followed by the equally surprising arrival of music star Tom Coltrane at Sonny’s had completely de-railed those plans.

Tom was obviously encouraging me to find a way to perform as myself, Becky Mooney, or Rebecca Mooney perhaps?

Was I starting to find my own voice? But how would that translate into anything that people would be interested in?

And was I doing what I’d done too often before and relying on someone else – this time another man – to give me the courage I couldn’t find myself.

I had so many questions but also the clarity of knowing I didn’t have a profile as Becky Mooney, let alone a recording contract; I’d never had the confidence to perform as myself since I was an adult.

When I realised I could do a passable Dolly Parton impression, I’d clung to that as a lifeline to help me keep getting up on the stage.

My parents had been terribly upset when I rejected my part in the Moonshine Trio and put it down to typical teenage rebellion.

I remember pointing out that most teenagers rebelled by getting drunk, staying out late or dabbling in drugs but, with my parents, turning your back on John Denver and Tammy Wynette was much worse than that!

Bless them. They’d been so supportive when later on I’d started doing Dolly and launched a new stage act …

for them it was like I’d found my way back from the wilderness, country roads takin’ me home.

I’d loved being on stage as a kid and I’d found a way to enjoy it again as an adult.

I had developed a coping mechanism but that coping mechanism was Dolly; I wasn’t at all sure what would happen if you took that away.

My real fear was that I would find it impossible to perform in public without my Dolly disguise.

I’d had lots of experience on stage but that experience meant I was realistic about what an audience were looking for.

They liked confidence. They liked a strong image and someone who had something to say.

That definitely wasn’t me. I’d been able to sing in Ferg’s studio – but doing the same in public was a different ballgame.

I took a big sip of coffee and tried to still the tremors that were making my hands shake every time I thought about what Tom had said last night.

‘It’s gonna be my next single. “Moonlight Home” by Tom Coltrane featuring Rebecca Mooney.

’ The shock of hearing those words was still reverberating through me.

What the …? Why would …? How could …? I simply couldn’t find the words to form an adequate question let alone start figuring out any answers.

Instinctively I reached for my phone and sent a quick WhatsApp message to Mum and Dad:

Hey! How you both doing? It’s crazy busy here but all good. Love ya x

I wasn’t sure if they would have seen the press coverage of Tom Coltrane at Sonny’s Bar.

Even if it had reached their little enclave on the Costa Brava I’m not sure they would have remembered the name of the place I had told them I was now managing and realise the furore was anything to do with me.

They had asked me if the club had a stage when I’d told them about my career change …

for them everything always came back to music and performing.

They still entertained locals and holidaymakers in the Spanish bars and clubs, performing once again as the Moonshine Duo, paying tribute to all their favourite country artists with an impressive repertoire of cover versions.

Moving to Spain had given them a second wind in their seventies.

The climate suited them, they’d found a nice group of mates and the appetite for their sort of entertainment was in good demand there.

I was pleased for them and it also gave me a nice place to visit occasionally for a holiday. Still, I missed them.

I was just imagining how amazed they would be if I suddenly rocked up in Cadaques with famous country star Tom Coltrane in tow when I heard a noise behind me and realised I wasn’t alone.

A tousle-haired Stevie was standing barefoot in the kitchen wearing sparkly unicorn pyjamas that looked two sizes too small, silently watching me.

‘Hey Stevie, I love your pyjamas,’ I said. ‘I wish they made unicorn pyjamas like that in my size.’

Stevie blinked and considered this for a moment before replying, ‘D’you like unicorns?’

‘Who doesn’t like unicorns?!’ I exclaimed while beckoning her over to the doorway. ‘Why d’you think I’m keeping watch over the garden right now? Early morning is the best time to try and see a wild unicorn, you know. They are very, very shy.’

Stevie’s eyes widened at this piece of unicorn information although as a savvy seven-year-old she looked unconvinced at the possibility of a mythical beast sighting.

Still, she tip-toed over, peering out at the garden in case a passing unicorn had decided to wander across the lawn.

Good girl, I thought, it’s always best to hedge your bets.

We debated the unlikely habits of unicorns, fairies, elves and even dragons for a good while.

Stevie was a cute smarty pants with a complicated belief system of what could and could not be real which was pretty fascinating.

She then announced she was hungry and I helped her get a bowl of cereal and some juice.

At some point while she ate her Cheerios and I had a piece of toast with my second cup of coffee we decided that writing a note to a unicorn would be a good way to let them know the garden at Forthview House was a safe space.

‘They might think we would catch them and put them in a zoo,’ Stevie said, the very thought making her look outraged. I had the feeling she was humouring me more than I was her but we were in the game now.

‘It couldn’t hurt to make them feel welcome, I suppose,’ I told her. ‘We could pop it on that tree over there. I’m sure they’d like a picture too.’

We found paper and crayons and began attempting to design a welcome note for unicorns. Stevie contributed some lovely rainbows and was clearly more practised at drawing unicorns than I was. Luckily for me she was too polite to mention mine looked more like hippos.

‘What’s all this?’ Laura came into the kitchen with Reggie on her hip, smiling at the sight of me and Stevie with our heads bent over our pictures. ‘It’s like an episode of Art Attack in here.’

Laura set to fixing breakfast for Reggie just as my WhatsApp alert signalled a reply from Mum and Dad.

‘Everything okay?’ she asked as she saw me look a bit taken aback by what I’d just read.

‘Yeah … yeah, really good … great actually.’ I was trying hard to use the right tone to match my words. ‘It’s … my mum and dad, they live in Spain now but … they’re coming over soon.’

The message from my parents was a bit of a surprise. They usually liked to pop over for a few days during the Fringe to take in a few shows and catch up with some of their performer mates, but the message said they were coming much sooner. The end of the week, in fact.

We know about your amazing news. How exciting! Can’t wait to see you xx, Mum had written. I presumed that meant they knew about Tom Coltrane appearing at Sonny’s Bar. Did that have anything to do with their decision to make a sudden appearance, I wondered?

I tapped a quick reply and made a move to go upstairs for a shower.

‘Fancy a top up?’ Laura asked, reaching for the coffee pot but I told her I’d already had two cups.

‘Ahh … some juice then?’ she offered, opening up the fridge and getting a carton of mango juice out.

She saw me hesitate and laughed. ‘It’s just …

it’s nice to have a new grown-up to talk to at breakfast time, d’you have to rush off so fast? ’

I didn’t need much persuading to hang out with Laura. As the kids ate breakfast and drew pictures of unicorns and dragons, Laura and I chatted. She was so easy to talk to. She was also pretty perceptive and swiftly figured out I wasn’t really up early because I was hunting unicorns.

‘Is everything moving at warp speed for you right now?’