Page 26 of What Would Dolly Do?

I looked at Laura with relief, it was good to have someone to talk to.

I hadn’t seen my closest friend, Alina, too much lately as she’d moved to Birmingham after getting married last year.

We’d been friends since school, her house had been my second home growing up.

The busy hubbub of extended family at Alina’s with lively meals of delicious Indian food shared around the dining table every night made it somewhere I loved hanging out.

Being at Forthview with Laura and Ferg and the kids had reminded me of those times.

But Alina never really understood my family’s interest in performing.

She worked for a big accountancy firm in Birmingham now, which made sense if you knew her.

Alina was one of those weird people who actually loved maths.

I found that as unfathomable as a quadratic equation.

When I threw in the towel with the Moonshine Trio Alina was a great support, but the reality was that she’d actually never got her head around why I was doing it in the first place.

Singing and performing had always been my dream career, I’d never had any other ambition growing up.

I couldn’t imagine Alina would be able to advise me now on how I should reinvent myself for a fresh career in music; even less would she be able to fathom what I thought I was doing hooking up with a famous country music star.

As I suspected, Laura had a bit more insight on both topics.

‘Tom’s never brought anyone here before, you know,’ she said meaningfully as we moved another chair to the open French doors so we could keep an eye on the kids who were now in the garden playing some sort of dragon-hunting game.

She let the statement hang in the air for a moment while I considered how to ask what she thought that might mean. Before I could speak she added, ‘He’s happier than I’ve seen him for a long time. More like the old Tom.’

I felt a surge of emotion as I heard that.

I didn’t like to think of Tom being unhappy, I felt instantly protective of him in a way that surprised me.

I knew I liked him, it wasn’t just pure lust that was keeping me around, but this lioness feeling was something new.

Was I already having deeper feelings for him? That felt dangerous.

‘It must be hard trying to keep on top when you’re so successful,’ I said, adding that I’d gathered he was trying to find his way through a musical dry spell.

Laura considered this with her head on one side. She appeared to want to say something else but was weighing up how to put it.

‘Having everyone think they know who you are but hardly anyone bother to really get to know you is not a good way to live,’ she said.

‘He loves Nashville but not everyone there has his best interests at heart. I know why he’s based there but I wonder if he would be happier if he came back home to Scotland? ’

It was obvious how close Tom and Laura were.

I liked that, it felt good to know how much Tom valued his family.

He and Laura and their older brother Pete sounded an interesting mix of their Scottish and American heritage having been brought up largely in Edinburgh but with a mother from the American South.

Pete had joined the police force to be a very British bobby, Tom had headed for the homeland of his mother once his music career had taken off and was clearly comfortable as a singing Tennessee cowboy, while Laura herself appeared to be a cool blend of a sassy Scottish gal and soulful Southern belle. I’d never met anyone quite like her.

We chatted about what it was like when Tom first started out and how proud she was of his success.

She was careful not to gossip but it was good to get some more background on the real man behind the image.

Laura didn’t sit on the fence for long though.

‘You’re good for him, Rebecca,’ she said.

‘I can tell that already, I think he can too. I hope he’s good for you too? ’

I wanted to tell her yes, tell her how he made me feel seen and heard more than anyone I’d ever been with before, how he was sexy and funny and being around him made me feel totally alive.

But I was mindful that she was his little sister.

Given that relationship, it was cool of Laura to ask how I was feeling about things, but I didn’t feel comfortable going into too many explicit details so what I actually answered was, ‘Uh-huh.’

My reservation wasn’t only caused by Laura being Tom’s little sister.

I was in turmoil over what was now expected of me, not just in our relationship (if it even was a relationship) but with the music we had been creating.

It all tumbled out then. I told her all about the song he’d written and how I’d ended up singing backing on the recording and he now wanted to release it.

‘If it was just the harmonies on “Moonshine Home” they were talking about I’d be thrilled, delighted, ecstatic …

but we’ve been working on other songs together too and he’s got Fergus to record me on some tracks.

They say I’m good, that I could put a debut album together.

They actually think I’ve got what it takes to be a recording and performing artist! ’

‘What a pair of scumbags!’ Laura was smirking as she held up her hands in protest. ‘Don’t shoot me but I’m struggling to see why you sound so outraged about Tom and Ferg having faith in your talent.

Trust me, they wouldn’t waste their time on you if they didn’t believe you were good …

great, even. I can’t wait to hear your stuff, I’ve been saying to … ’

‘Nooooooo!’ I could feel hot tears welling and my throat tightening as I cut her off and confessed, ‘I don’t mean to be ungrateful, truly I don’t, but I’m just not up to this.

I’m like a snail – I need my shell to protect me.

’ That didn’t really clarify the situation very well and had I really just compared myself to a snail to my boyfriend’s sister? I winced, inwardly.

I tried to explain, as best I could, how I understood that having a voice, even a good voice, was only part of what was needed for any sort of musical career.

You needed to be able to perform live, promote yourself in the media, be visible as well as audible, and I couldn’t do any of that unless I was in disguise.

I told her how my teen stage fright had taken over, leaving me unable to face an audience as just myself.

Laura listened patiently, asking a couple of questions about how I’d morphed into a Dolly Parton tribute.

‘It happened by accident really,’ I told her.

‘It was a weird sequence of events now I think about it.’ I explained how doing Dolly impressions had been my party piece growing up, just for my parents or family.

Then one night, years after I’d stopped performing, I went to watch Mum and Dad at a club gig.

‘I suppose I missed the scene and enjoyed hanging out in all those bars and social clubs even if I wasn’t performing myself anymore.

Anyway, Mum went down with a bout of tonsillitis that night and Dad begged me to help him out and go on with him.

I refused point blank at first but then he suggested I didn’t go on as Becky but as ‘Dolly’ instead. ’

Laura’s eyes widened as I described the scene backstage as I’d rifled through assorted wigs in the dressing room to find a blonde one that could pass as Parton-esque, borrowed some make-up and found a tasselled waistcoat and a pair of cowboy boots in the stash of costumes Dad always kept in the boot of his car.

I hadn’t wanted to let him down so I’d thrown a look together, crossed my fingers and prayed to the queen of country music that I’d get through it.

‘It was a bit of a mishmash but Dolly’s such a well-known, well-loved character that I only had to add a giggle in my talk and a wiggle in my walk and the crowd lapped it up.’

I looked at Laura and saw an expression on her face that was hard to read: it looked a lot like admiration.

‘And how did it feel to be back on stage that night?’

I thought back to how my hands had been slick with sweat as I’d taken hold of the mic and how I’d wished I’d worn a longer skirt that night in case the audience could see my knees knocking.

But as soon as I’d put on my ‘Dolly’ voice and greeted them with a ‘Howdy folks!’ I’d started to feel better.

There had been a gasp of recognition from the crowd, I’d sensed their anticipation that they were about to hear some of their favourite songs and so were happy to see me, and I’d been determined not to disappoint.

By the time I’d sung my way through ‘9 to 5’, ‘Coat of Many Colours’ and ‘Jolene,’ they were eating out of my hand and a couple of duets with Dad to finish had them cheering.

‘It felt amazing,’ I said quietly.

‘You found a way to do it, good for you,’ Laura said. ‘And you can find a way to do this, Rebecca, I know you can.’

I looked at Laura sitting there in the morning sunshine as she looked back at me with complete faith in her bright blue eyes.

Tom had looked at me in exactly the same way.

What was it with these Coltranes that made me want to rise up to the expectations they had of me? I wanted to, I really did, but how?

Laura seemed to be considering the situation for a little while then she took both of my hands in hers.

Her face was pale and serious but the sunshine on her gingery blonde hair made it glow and flame as though it was on fire.

‘Tom has discovered you, Fergus can capture your voice on record, but I think I can help you with the rest,’ she said, quietly and earnestly, ‘if you’ll let me? ’

With my hands still in hers I looked at Laura and marvelled at how this incredible woman was offering her help and friendship to me. A friend like Laura might be as rare and mythical as a unicorn but I needed to believe in her. ‘Okay, thank you,’ I said.

Laura smiled at me then. ‘Excellent,’ she said, ‘because I have a plan!’