Page 36 of What Would Dolly Do?

I had the card he’d given me tucked into my back pocket.

I didn’t know people still handed out business cards anymore but Steve seemed to have a bit of an old-school attitude – I quite liked that about him.

So bearing that in mind plus the fact he was the only record company executive to ever have shown any interest in signing me – to a real bona fide label too – I had agreed to ‘schedule a meeting’ with him.

‘Schedule a meeting’ – listen to the jargon I was using already!

I’d made Tom laugh when I told him he may have created a monster who would soon be demanding baskets of puppies and bowls of blue smarties everywhere she went!

He hadn’t looked too worried about that and told me he might adopt the same demands for his tour rider going forward.

‘So long as you’re included alongside them,’ he had added.

When I told Gordon and Morag about conquering my stage fright and the possibility of securing a recording contract, I thought they might explode with excitement.

It was easy to see where the phrase ‘bursting with pride’ came from as they practically danced me around their kitchen.

It was just the sort of reaction I had hoped for and it finally gave me the chance to feel the same thrill and let joy surge through my veins.

I thought about what Dolly had once said: ‘You always want your people to be proud of what you have accomplished.’ If Dolly needed that kind of validation then maybe it wasn’t that surprising I also needed to see someone I considered ‘my people’ be genuinely impressed by what I had done to give myself permission to enjoy the moment. Thank heavens for Gordon and Morag.

I shared some of the footage of my performance that had been uploaded onto YouTube with them and told them I’d even started writing my own songs.

‘Oh hen, that’s so wonderful. Didn’t I always say you could do anything you put your mind to?’ Morag was smiling broadly and her cheeks were glowing pink. It was so good to see her looking well and happy.

I told her how much her gift of a ‘What Would Dolly Do?’ mug had spurred me on, prompted me to adopt Dolly’s can-do attitude and get back on stage.

The sun was shining and the August weather was finally warm so we sat outside to drink our tea and chat some more.

Gordon apologised they didn’t have any champagne to offer but we were all so giggly and our spirits so high that I didn’t think anything fizzy would have made us any giddier.

But just as they were telling me, yet again, how proud they both were of me, a big dark cloud appeared.

It wasn’t a change in the weather that threw a shadow over our fun but the sudden appearance of Guy.

Guy walked into the garden from the passageway at the side of the house with such a thunderous look on his face it made me wonder how much he had heard of our conversation before making his presence known.

His parents didn’t seem to notice the look of murderous intent he threw me and appeared delighted to see him.

‘Hello Guy, how lovely to see you! Come and listen to Becky’s incredible news.

Oops, sorry it’s Reba now, isn’t it, hen?

’ Morag smiled indulgently at me and then clucked around offering Guy a cup of tea or a slice of cake.

Guy stayed standing and rolled his eyes in response to her attempts to get him to join our mini celebration.

I didn’t feel much like celebrating now Guy was glowering at me.

I hadn’t seen him since the morning he’d had me arrested and accused of theft, and my concerns about his motive had been pushed to the back of my mind with everything that had been happening.

Now, there Guy stood, in the flesh, still looking as suntanned as when he’d landed from California …

which probably meant it was out of a bottle or from a sun bed …

a Scottish summer, no matter how pleasant, couldn’t possibly turn you that shade of mahogany?

But my mind wasn’t pondering how Guy maintained his tan, it was turning over the hope that Reba, the new me, might be able to handle Guy better than Becky, the old me, ever had. There was one way to find out.

I decided to break the ice with what I thought was a harmless question. ‘How’s everything at the shop?’ I asked in what I thought was a pleasant tone.

‘None of your damn business!’ Guy snapped before sneering, ‘I would have thought you’d be too busy getting your clutches into your new famous boyfriend to worry about how many watches and necklaces we’re currently selling at Grayson’s!’

‘GUY! Don’t be so RUDE!’ Morag and Gordon sounded shocked and both instantly barked reprimands at their sullen son who looked as though apologising was the very last thing on his mind.

Instead of addressing me, he first shot a scornful look at his parents.

‘This all looks very cosy,’ he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Then he turned to me. ‘What are you even doing here?’

Before I could answer for myself Gordon jumped to my defence.

‘Becky … I mean, Reba is a good friend, more than a friend actually, she’s like family to us.

I don’t know what’s got into you lad, but you need to apologise.

In fact, it seems you have quite a lot to apologise to her for so now is a good opportunity to do so. ’

Gordon’s stern tone cut no ice with Guy and his mother’s distressed face didn’t appear to be affecting him either.

He clearly had no intention of building any bridges with me.

Even as Reba, it didn’t seem fair to have a showdown with Guy over his vindictive vendetta.

I may have craved revenge on him but the last thing I wanted to do was have a slanging match in front of his parents, especially after the joy they’d surrounded me with.

I left as soon as I could after that while simultaneously trying to reassure Gordon and Morag I was absolutely fine and there was nothing to worry about.

Guy said nothing during our rushed farewells and their continued apologies for his behaviour.

It was upsetting to see them so mortified but I couldn’t leave without attempting some kind of parting shot for Guy’s benefit.

‘I’m glad you came to Edinburgh, Guy,’ I said before exiting the garden the way he had come in.

He looked a bit taken aback at that. ‘No, really I am. Perhaps spending a bit more time with your lovely parents will teach you some proper manners. Any manners at all would certainly be an improvement.’

I turned on my heel then but as I got halfway down the side entry I heard Guy splutter with undisguised rage and yell after me, ‘You’re NOT family and you NEVER will be so you can get that notion right out of your head! I don’t want to see you around here ever again … YOU GOT THAT!?’

I got that. How could I fail to when his words were ringing in my head, but I didn’t dignify them with a response.

I got to Sonny’s around lunchtime, unlocked the door and made my way down to the deserted bar.

I needed to keep busy and wanted to make myself useful.

It was the only thing I could think of to do.

I had a change of clothes somewhere in the back office, sweatpants and a t-shirt suitable for wiping down tables, restocking the optics and cleaning the toilets.

I threw myself into the mindless but strangely satisfying work and walked out of the spotless ladies’ room about an hour later.

I sensed an intruder in the main bar area before I actually saw them. In my agitated state I must have forgotten to lock the street-level door behind me when I’d come in and now someone was sitting at a table in the corner of the bar and they were watching me.

The shock of discovering I was not alone made me gasp but, as my eyes focused on the person more keenly, I felt winded like I’d just had a punch to my guts. This wasn’t a random stranger.

Sitting primly on a bar stool, one peep-toe sparkly mule swinging from her foot was the one and only Dolly Parton.