Page 44 of What Would Dolly Do?

W ithin forty-eight hours of hearing that I had a chance of appearing on the hallowed stage of The Grand Ole Opry I was on a plane from London Heathrow heading straight for Nashville, Tennessee.

I’d got over my reservations about hitching my wagon to Tom Coltrane’s fame pretty quickly.

If anyone was going to have an issue with me duetting with Tom I decided that was going to be their problem, not mine.

Stella guffawed loudly and slapped me on the back when I’d told her that.

It was amazing how quickly you could turn an argument around when it was necessary, and it was very necessary that I got myself to Nashville and up onto that famous stage.

Stella said she approved wholeheartedly.

‘A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!

’ she’d said. I couldn’t have put it better myself.

She’d also told me she and Donald would cover my shifts at Sonny’s.

‘Just don’t forget to let me know if you’re not coming back,’ she’d said, laughing.

‘I know someone who’d be thrilled to come and have their old job back if you’re crowned the next country music queen and decide to live on a ranch in Kentucky.

’ I pointed out that Nashville is actually in Tennessee but Stella said I was the one missing the actual point. Again, she wasn’t wrong.

It had felt like I was setting off for a whole new life the night before my flight when an impromptu gig turned into a sort of farewell party at Sonny’s.

I had impulsively suggested to my mum and dad that we would reunite the Moonshine Trio before they headed back to Spain and so we did a version of our old show for a packed crowd of festival-goers who were hanging out in the bar.

With Nashville to look forward to and everything now feeling like it was moving so fast, it felt like a good way to close one chapter before writing the next.

The punters loved the mix of singalong country hits we sang and it was good to see Mum and Dad so happy.

They really did love being on stage and entertaining folk, it was no wonder I loved it too, it was in my blood.

I had no qualms about performing as myself this time around.

The spell had been broken and I no longer needed Dolly as my disguise.

I relished being Reba and I was building up my confidence as a performer all the time.

I just hoped I could keep up the forward momentum.

The bar had been jumping by the time we wrapped up our set with a request from the audience to sing ‘Take Me Home Country Roads’.

It was an oldie but a goody and a healthy number of the crowd seemed to know the words to the chorus and lustily sang along with us.

It was a fun night with a friendly crowd and I felt even happier when I spotted Dorrie standing at the bar.

She had to dash off to make curtain-up for her own show but made sure she gave me a great big hug once I came off the stage.

‘Oooh you’re sooo good,’ she said with a beaming smile on her face, ‘and your mom and dad are just adorable, what a pair of sweethearts!’

Dorrie was so effervescent and enthusiastic, how could I ever have thought she was a snake in the grass trying to trick me?

I gave her a big hug right back and promised to go and see her show once I was back from Nashville.

I also agreed that yes, my mum and dad were indeed a pair of sweethearts, bless them.

Just as Dorrie was leaving, Stella had appeared with a large gift bag. ‘This came for you,’ she’d said putting the rainbow-striped package into my hands then quickly scooting back behind the bar to serve more punters.

I wasn’t sure what to expect: was this a leaving present from Stella?

That didn’t seem her style. Was it something from Laura to wish me good luck on my travels to Tennessee?

Could Tom have arranged to send me something to calm my nerves?

Due to the time difference and his work schedule in Nashville we’d only exchanged a couple of awkward fairly formal texts about arrangements for my trip.

He’d let me know the flight times and said I’d be picked up at the airport.

We both knew we needed to talk about stuff properly but there wasn’t any point trying to do that over the phone.

I’d be in Nashville soon enough, things would be easier to sort out face to face I was sure.

I’d reached inside the gift bag and pulled out … a bottle of whisky and a monster bag of marshmallows. I’d known who it was from before I even found the note which simply read:

I’m Sorry x Robbie.

I appreciated the gesture but there wasn’t time to deal with Robbie and his issues before I caught my shuttle flight from Edinburgh airport to Heathrow.

But as I packed in a mild panic I’d found myself squashing the bag of marshmallows into my carry-on case.

I hoped I wouldn’t need an emergency supply of my favourite comfort food from home, but better to be safe than sorry.

I glanced upwards to the overhead locker above my head where I knew my secret stash was now squirrelled away and tried to resist the temptation to start tucking in immediately mid-flight.

The nerves were real now I was mid-way through the nine-hour direct flight to Nashville.

This. Was. Happening. I was going to perform on the biggest country music stage in the world.

It was crazy. Just a few weeks ago I’d been pedalling my Dolly Parton tribute act around a few northern pubs and clubs, and through a series of weird and wonderful twists of fate I was now about to partner a true music icon in front of an audience of thousands in the home of country music.

It wasn’t just the music fans in the auditorium I would be singing to either, The Grand Ole Opry is a live radio show broadcast coast to coast in America and listened to all over the world.

Gulp. My fingers itched to rip into my monster bag of confectionary and my taste buds yearned for their soothing, squashy sweetness.

Nothing can ever feel too bad when you have a mouthful of melting marshmallows … well that’s my belief, anyway.

Luckily Tom had arranged a premium economy flight for my journey.

It had meant nothing to me when I’d seen the class printed on the ticket – I was only used to budget airline flights to Spain – but the ‘premium’ in premium economy was the word I should have concentrated on.

I was thrilled to find myself in a large leather chair with oodles of leg room.

A screen in the seatback in front of me offered a huge selection of film, TV show, radio and podcast options to keep me entertained, and the food was plentiful, tasty and offered regularly.

I could get used to travelling like this, I thought, and it all helped to distract me from reaching for the marshmallows.

My mind did keep returning to the subject of Tom.

How would it feel to see him again? Would he be waiting for me at the airport?

I thought it was unlikely he’d be standing at the gate with a large bouquet and a soppy expression like he was auditioning for a part in a remake of Love Actually .

I didn’t actually want him to, I realised now.

It wasn’t his style and it would be far too embarrassing for him as a famous musician but also for me too.

I’d rather not have the pressure of a public reunion under the circumstances, much better to wait until we could see each other in private.

I just hoped it would turn out better than our last meeting in my flat.

I’d been desperate to see Tom then, having only just realised that I was falling in love with him, but that hadn’t helped at all, and instead of rushing into each other’s arms it had all unravelled into a spectacular mess.

So now I was spending the flight time trying to hold my emotions in check and not get too caught up in how much I longed to see Tom again.

I knew how I felt but I needed to give him time to reveal his true feelings to me.

After talking to Laura it seemed there was something I didn’t know, something he was keeping from me.

I needed to give him time to reveal whatever it was before I gave away how hard I was falling.

Self-preservation was the key now, because just like Dorrie had so astutely observed, Tom Coltrane was the kind of guy who could break your heart, even if he didn’t mean to.

I emerged through security at Nashville Airport to see a smartly dressed woman in a grey two-piece trouser suit holding a card with the name REBA MOON printed on it.

Tom had sent a driver in a limo to pick me up and Dawn explained that while Mr Coltrane was tied up with filming commitments she’d been instructed to take me to my hotel.

There was that word again – commitments.

And they usually seemed to be the kind that kept us apart.

I hadn’t known until that moment what the arrangements were going to be for my visit, whether I was going to be staying in a hotel or if Tom would be inviting me to stay with him in his Nashville home.

I remembered seeing the photograph of Tom’s beautiful white clapboard house and felt a twinge of disappointment I wouldn’t be heading straight there.

But then I reasoned that given the circumstances Tom may have felt it would be pretty presumptuous to expect me to stay there without asking me first if I was okay with that.

I decided to focus on the fact that Tom was being a gentleman and appreciate it.

I also realised that due to time differences we had landed in Nashville just after midnight local time and very early morning my time.

The flight had departed Heathrow at 9.30 p.m. and I had slept a little on the plane but I was pretty exhausted right now.