Page 38 of What Would Dolly Do?

I felt winded by her words but was Dorrie simply telling me what everyone else already thought?

That I’d been suckered in by a big-name celebrity who had used me for a bit of local fun behind his gorgeous girlfriend’s back?

Tom had seemed pretty calm about the Juliana situation when I’d questioned him that morning in bed, but was he really only palming me off with excuses while he got ready to plead for forgiveness from his movie star muse?

Seeing Juliana’s face staring out at me from the front of a newspaper really brought home the fact I’d managed to land myself right in the middle of a love triangle.

That would be bad enough in any circumstances but the other two members of this particular ménage à trois were celebrities most people had heard of.

Being a mistress, someone’s ‘bit on the side’ wasn’t the sort of image I wanted my new persona of Reba Moon to have.

I wouldn’t have wanted it for plain old Becky Mooney either.

I started to stutter my defence, telling Dorrie I hadn’t planned for things to happen between me and Tom, that I’d got carried away but, before I could carry on, Dorrie held up her hand to halt my flow.

‘I wasn’t trying to say that Tom is a bad guy.

I don’t know him, after all, but I don’t think someone like you would have given him the time of day if you didn’t think he was pretty decent.

’ Dorrie spoke quickly, her face still showing more concern than judgement.

‘What I meant when I said he was trouble was …’ she paused and looked down at the picture of Tom on the table between us.

He had an eyebrow raised in that way I found so unbelievably sexy and a smile curling the corner of his lips.

The way his hair was mussed up told me he must have just run his hands through it, while he had an arm thrown casually, but protectively, around Juliana’s skinny shoulders.

Just seeing the picture of them like that made me slightly nauseous.

Dorrie sensed my unease and took my hand in hers.

‘He looks like the kind of man who could break a girl’s heart, whether he meant to or not. ’

Faced with Dorrie’s honest assessment and willingness to hear me out, I told her things then that I’d barely even admitted to myself.

I was falling for Tom in a big way. Once I said it out loud I knew it was true.

I’d tried to kid myself this was just a bit of fun, that I was seizing the day by having a fling with a sexy singer, that I wasn’t foolish enough to expect anything lasting to come of it.

When I was safe inside the bubble Tom and I had created for ourselves, that all seemed to make perfect sense.

At first the only other people who had known about us were Fergus and Laura and the fact that Tom’s sister and his best friend were part of the secret had made it all feel completely normal.

But it wasn’t really normal at all, I could see that now.

I’d told myself that, if anything was amiss, Ferg and Laura were good people who would warn me, tell me not to get too involved, say something to let me know this could never be anything other than a brief episode in our lives; one to be enjoyed but not something that could lead to anything more meaningful or lasting.

But, of course, as Tom’s little sister and closest friend, Laura and Fergus’s loyalties would be to Tom, not to me.

I saw that now. The truth was, I really had no idea what I had got myself in the middle of.

I’d vowed not to expect or demand anything from Tom Coltrane but that meant I’d not addressed the situation properly or prioritised my own feelings.

And I did have feelings, big ones. Was Dorrie right?

Was I on course to have my heart broken into a million pieces?

Maybe one day soon I’d be forced to write a song about it all.

‘You could have a line about how he plucked your heart strings as easily as he picked his guitar,’ Dorrie attempted a lame joke when she saw how upset I was but it was beginning to dawn on me this wasn’t a situation I was going to be able to laugh my way out of.

‘I need to talk to Tom.’

Dorrie looked at me kindly and nodded encouragingly.

‘There’s a moment in every love affair when the golden glow that surrounds the two of you turns into a harsh spotlight of reality.

For most people that’s when friends, family or colleagues all start chipping in with their views and opinions about your new relationship.

The bursting of that bubble can be hard to take and whether or not a couple survives can depend on how you deal with it.

In your case the spotlight is particularly harsh and bright so how you react now is important. ’

My God this tiny woman made so much sense!

Her similarity to Dolly was not confined to her appearance.

My urge to get to Tom, to see him, to feel his arms around me was suddenly overwhelming.

I desperately wanted to get back inside our bubble where we laughed, made love and made music together, and weren’t troubled by anything or anybody, but I knew those days had now gone.

I’d only seen him a few hours ago so how was it possible that I was missing him so much already?

Dorrie was right about how all the attention was testing us but also the intrusion of the press into our perfect, sexy, romantic bubble was making everything now feel tainted and squalid.

Instinct told me if I could get to be with Tom, just the two of us, where I could see him, feel him and hear his voice, it wouldn’t feel like that anymore.

If we were together I would feel okay, I was sure of it.

I wanted to reassure him that I wasn’t going to buckle under this pressure but more than that I wanted him to reassure me that we weren’t having a meaningless affair.

I needed to hear him say Juliana wasn’t his one true love, that it was over between them and that we had a chance.

I was falling in love with Tom but was there any chance that he was falling in love with me too?

I cleared away our glasses and Dorrie and I made our way up the stairs to the street-level entrance to Sonny’s Bar. Just before we stepped outside I pulled her into a big hug. ‘Thanks Dorrie, of all the bars in all the world I’m so glad you stumbled into mine.’

She hugged me back and then held me at arms’ length while she looked me square in the eye from beneath her beautiful, blonde hair-do. ‘Everything happens for a reason, don’t you think? I was meant to meet you, Reba, to find you here in your hour of need. Think of me as your very own Dolly-Angel.’

‘You really are, I can’t tell you how much it’s helped to talk to you.’

Dorrie began to push the unlocked, heavy door open as she answered over her shoulder. ‘Yeah, talking is great but sometimes action is needed more than words …’

I think she was intending to deliver yet another line of Dorrie wisdom but her voice was drowned out by the sudden noise of shouts and calls from a mob of people standing on the pavement right outside our doorway. They leapt into action once they spotted us both emerging into the daylight.

‘REBA! … Becky? …. Is Tom Coltrane with you? Have you spoken to Juliana Ripon? How long have you been having an affair? Reba? BECKY!’

I stood like a rabbit caught in the headlights, transfixed by the sight of a throng of reporters, some with cameras, others with microphones, advancing towards us, but Dorrie was quicker to react.

Yanking me by the arm she pulled us both back inside and slammed the door shut and this time firmly locked it.

It was good thinking, I’d give her that, apart from the fact we were now completely trapped.

There was no other exit from Sonny’s Bar, no secret tunnel or back way out.

Dorrie took that on board just like she seemed to process all new information, calmly and rationally.

‘Right, so we need to figure out another way to get the hell out of here.’ Back down in the bar she stood with her hands on her hips, one tiny foot tapping impatiently on the stone floor while she considered the options.

I couldn’t imagine thinking it over would take her very long as there were no other options.

‘Aha!’ She smacked her hands together and looked at me triumphantly, ‘Of course!’

A few moments later I was standing in the centre of the bar area of Sonny’s once again all dressed up as Dolly Parton while opposite me Dorrie, minus her brilliant blonde wig, was wearing my tartan trousers and Tom’s borrowed black t-shirt.

‘Just when I thought my Dolly days were over,’ I mused, as much to myself as to Dorrie who was too busy outlining the grand plan to take much notice of what I was muttering.

I fiddled with Dorrie’s Dolly wig, it really was a lovely one, I’d never worn anything as gorgeous in all my years performing as a tribute artist.

‘Stop fussing, it looks fine.’

‘But what about you? We don’t have a red wig so you won’t look anything like me?’ I’d let Dorrie talk me into wearing her clothes while she pulled on mine but I wasn’t exactly sure why.

Minus her wig, Dorrie’s hair was naturally long, straight and fair. She gave a big sigh and rolled her eyes theatrically. ‘You’ve not been listening to me properly, have you? We aren’t switching places, this isn’t flippin’ Freaky Friday!’

She went over the plan one more time. I was decked out in all her Dolly finery …

everything fitted well enough, the hot pink pants with their flouncy kick flares were stretchy and had an elasticated waist, thank goodness.

The matching cowgirl shirt with white tassels across the back and down the underside of the sleeves fitted better once I improvised some bosom padding …

my feet were slightly too big for Dorrie’s fluffy mules but no one would notice that.

Suitably disguised, I was apparently going to walk out of the front door of Sonny’s Bar, not as Reba, not even as Dorrie, but as ‘Dolly’ the star of Dumb Blonde?

the ‘hilarious yet heartwarming new play full of truth, tenacity and toe-tapping tunes’ – well that’s what it said on the stack of flyers Dorrie had removed from her bag and was now shoving into my hands.

‘Might as well get some plugs in for the show while we’re at it,’ she said with a gleam of mischief in her eye, ‘you make your own luck in this life, you know.’

I couldn’t help but be rather impressed by how quickly she was turning the situation to her own advantage and I certainly had no better plan to offer.

‘Okay, but what about you?’

‘Once you’ve made a clean getaway as the queen of country music I’ll lock the door behind you and sit tight.

They’ll be waiting for Reba, but of course Reba has already gone.

When I feel the time is right I’ll walk straight out and give them a cheery wave.

’ She demonstrated the cheery wave for my benefit and I felt quite sorry I wouldn’t be around the see her wind up the press mob.

‘Even if they realise I’m wearing your clothes from earlier and we’ve done a switcheroo on them, what are they gonna do about it? ’

As cunning plans go it was a pretty good one. I took a few deep breaths, got into my Dolly zone and went upstairs to put on a show.

The shouts for Reba died in the mouths of the hacks as I sashayed towards them proffering flyers and flashing a winning smile.

‘Howdy fellas,’ I trilled, ignoring the fact there were as many lasses as lads assembled, waiting to pounce, ‘what a way to make a livin,’ eh?

’ The ‘9 to 5’ line went over the heads of some of them but I was tickled to hear a couple of them groan as they realised they were being snowed by a grifting Fringe performer trying her best to boost ticket sales to her show.

The plan was working. I bantered with a couple of the older guys who appeared grateful for a way to ease their stakeout boredom, name-checked the play, the venue and the showtimes.

‘ Dumb Blonde? Catch it at the Assembly Rooms on Chambers Street, every night at 9 p.m.’

With a flutter of my eyelashes I flung the last of the leaflets in their general direction, and told them, ‘See y’all around, you take good care of yourselves now, y’hear.’

A chorus of good-natured goodbyes followed me down the street as I tottered gingerly to the corner and, once out of sight, exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

Dorrie the great pretender had pulled off a perfect great escape plot.

The plan had worked and in several different ways good old Dolly had saved me … again.