Page 47 of What Would Dolly Do?

The white clapboard house with triangular pointed facade was nestled snugly in its own verdant copse of trees, bushes and flowers.

It really was the very definition of picturesque.

Four wide stone steps led up to a deep front porch with a galleried balcony above held up by four white stone pillars.

It looked inviting and friendly but impressive too …

just like Tom himself, I thought! I couldn’t wait to jump out of the car, run up the steps and hopefully straight into Tom’s welcoming arms.

I had my hand on the lever to open the car door when Dawn turned in the driver seat to say, ‘Tom is running just a little late but I can let you in. He says to make yourself right at home and he’ll be along soon.’

‘Ah, right, okay.’ I tried not to appear too crushed by the constant stream of setbacks that were preventing my reunion with Tom. I hoped the delayed gratification would be worth it in the end.

Once she’d unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it open Dawn simply gestured for me to go inside then wished me a ‘good day, Miss Moon’ and went back to the car. I watched in amazement as she slowly drove away leaving me completely alone inside the house.

I quietly closed the door and then turned around on the spot taking everything in.

I was dying to look around and at least now I had a good opportunity to be nosy while I was here on my own.

I was struck at once by how naturally beautiful the house was with polished wooden floors and a mix of white stucco walls and exposed brickwork.

The reception hallway was breathtaking and yet welcoming.

I stood beneath a burnished bronze hoop chandelier with twinkling golden lights, on one side of me stood a large shiny black grand piano.

On the other side, behind a pair of black ornamental metal gates, was a book-lined space created to look like a snug, with huge comfy armchairs and a cream fluffy rug.

Straight ahead was a wide, cream-carpeted central staircase with a white stucco archway either side.

I presumed the arches would lead to the main living space so I decided to take a peak.

If the entrance hall had taken my breath away what I discovered next blew my mind.

The space behind the staircase opened up into a cavernous room with a pointed ceiling that must have been at least thirty feet high making it feel like a cross between a barn and a church.

Despite it being a jaw-dropping space, as I looked around the open-plan kitchen, dining and living room zones it also felt warm and homely.

Natural sunlight flooded in from the huge floor to ceiling windows making the bright touches of colour here and there really pop and glow.

The kitchen area over to my left was a mixture of distressed turquoise cabinets, polished black marble surfaces and mango wood cabinets.

It was completely gorgeous. On the opposite side was a full-size pool table and I was thrilled to see a vintage Wurlitzer juke box standing against the exposed brick wall.

Right in front of me was a large rustic dining table with twelve high-backed chairs covered in patterned Navajo Indian tapestry upholstery sitting beneath a low-slung wagon wheel pendant light.

I moved around the dining table to discover a sunken seating area filled with squashy brown leather sofas and piles of soft tartan cushions that looked incredibly inviting.

It was hard to tear my eyes away from examining every corner of the room, everywhere I looked there was something interesting to discover.

Colourful artwork, quirky mementoes, a rack of guitars, an almost life-sized painting of a majestic stag on a Scottish mountainside surrounded by swathes of purple heather.

I could sense Tom’s presence and feel his personality in every choice that had been made about the furniture and decor inside Braveheart.

I wasn’t sensing anything but Tom in this home, the colours, the vibe, the artistic and musical influences …

if anyone else had made decisions about how to decorate here I wasn’t feeling that at all.

I also loved the fact that for all its luxury this was a such an easy space to be in.

The open-plan nature of the room, the flow from the kitchen to the dining area, the playful spaces to the chill-out sofas, it all worked so well and would be such a cool, relaxing, fun place to hang out.

I really hoped I would have the chance to spend some time here.

That said, I was getting an acute sense of just how rich and famous Tom Coltrane must be to have such a home.

A place like this would not come cheap but could only be afforded by someone who had achieved a huge amount of worldwide success.

I’d already known Tom was a big deal, of course, but here was the actual evidence right in front of my eyes.

Just as I was thinking about Tom ‘the rockstar’ my eye caught a flash of brilliant blue outside the window and I spotted a huge oval swimming pool and decorative outdoor dining cabana with lush green lawns beyond.

‘Wow,’ I breathed the word to myself.

The more I looked around, the more I wanted to see more.

How long had it been since Dawn had dropped me off here?

I guessed not more than fifteen minutes or so.

I hadn’t got a clue how much longer I would have to wait before Tom came back.

Did I have time to take a quick look upstairs? Should I? Dare I?

There were a couple of arched wooden doorways off the main living space that might well have led to a downstairs bathroom … or two … but I decided to pretend I hadn’t noticed those and instead headed back to the entrance hallway to make my way upstairs on the pretext of looking for the loo.

The central stairway was carpeted in plush cream so I hesitated with my foot on the first step and looked down at my trusty suede ankle boots.

It was one thing to wander around someone’s house when they weren’t there, snooping and sneaking about behind their back, it was quite another to do so while wearing your outdoor shoes.

I wasn’t a philistine, for heaven’s sake!

I slipped my boots off, placed them neatly to one side of the stairs and padded my way silently up to the galleried landing above.

There was a white stucco archway both to my left and to my right so I had to plump for one wing of the house or the other to explore.

I went right and opened a couple of doors to discover a room set up as a study and music room and a storeroom full of flight cases, luggage and suit carriers.

I presumed this was the place everything got dumped after a tour.

Next, I found what I was ostensibly looking for: a bathroom.

It was huge and fully tiled in an eye-catching Art Deco design of pale green and black.

A sparkling white roll top bath on claw feet stood in front of a window draped in diaphanous fabric and a huge scalloped mirror hung over the double sink.

I moved across the floor feeling like an extra in a Hollywood movie and checked out my reflection in the mirror.

The setting was so spectacular I was praying I didn’t look too shabby in these luxurious surroundings.

I was reassured to see my white dress and denim waistcoat still looked okay and actually made me look quite at home in a country music mansion.

The soft lighting through the window made my red hair glimmer but my face did look a little flushed.

I ran the tap and splashed some cold water on my wrists and neck to cool myself but it was as I turned off the tap I thought I heard a noise.

I froze at the sink, my hand still on the tap and strained my ears to listen, maybe I’d imagined it. But then I heard the unmistakable sound of the front door being slammed shut. The first thing I’d heard must have been the sound of the front door opening.

Okay, this was it. The moment I’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

Tom was home and we’d soon be face to face.

No, I realised, that wasn’t enough, what I really wanted right now was for us to be in each other’s arms. I checked myself over again, slipped my hair out of its pony tail and shook it loose.

I dampened the material slightly and tied the scarf cowgirl-style around my neck to keep me cool. That was better.

I quickly made my way back across the landing and started to descend the staircase.

It wasn’t a bad way to make an entrance, stepping lightly down the stairs with my white dress swirling around me.

I’d never felt more like a romantic muse; maybe Tom would write a song about this moment one day, the moment he saw me again after we’d been forced apart and realised that he loved me, couldn’t live without me, that we were meant to be together, forever.

I was getting carried away again, so much for keeping my emotions in check, but when I’d thought I might never see Tom again in person it had been so hard to bear.

I knew now that I’d never felt this way about anyone before.

I was so into Tom it hurt and being in his house, feeling his presence all around me, had intensified my feelings so much I was throbbing with desire to see him again.

I was halfway down the stairs when a figure stepped into the shaft of sunlight shining through the transom window above the door. But it wasn’t Tom illuminated in the spotlight before me. It was Juliana Ripon.