Page 55 of What Would Dolly Do?

T om didn’t give me much time for pondering the possibilities of life over the next few days and weeks.

He threw himself into showing me the best of what Nashville and the surrounding state of Tennessee had to offer and, just as he had promised, he did his very best to show me off too.

He didn’t hesitate to introduce me to a bunch of his mates and took me to meet several producers and musicians who were all full of great advice for the newest singer songwriter to hit town.

At some point in the whirlwind of music bars, coffee houses, recording studios, BBQ joints and hanging out with mates at the house, playing pool and dancing to the juke box, it was decided that I needed to stay in Nashville … indefinitely.

I didn’t need much persuasion. Nashville was an easy place to fall in love with.

The city had a small-town feel and I’d discovered Southern American hospitality was a genuine thing, everyone I met made me feel so welcome and I just adored hearing ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ everywhere I went.

Politeness might cost nothing but I was realising how the manners of the ordinary folk of Tennessee made them as respectful and dignified as some members of the British Royal Family.

Maybe it was the people or the big sunshiny sky, maybe it was the music, but I quickly felt so at home in Nashville I knew I wanted more than a holiday here.

I realised I needed to be in this for the long haul.

To be an ‘overnight success’ you really needed to put the hours in.

It’s funny how things worked out. I was now almost glad that I hadn’t appeared with Tom on stage at the new, enormous Grand Ole Opry venue.

Surely it would be better to build up to something like that?

If I’d performed at the ultimate arena on such a gigantic stage – in every sense of the term – would music fans have accepted me?

I didn’t want to risk a backlash before I’d even really begun.

When Tom offered to try and get us back on the bill I told him what I was thinking and he thought for a moment before saying:

‘You know, I think you’re probably right. Waz has been on my back about running out on The Opry, but leave him to me, I’ll square it with him.’

I hadn’t yet met the infamous Waz Monsoon, Tom seemed keen to shield me from that particular experience, but I knew there were calls and emails flying back and forth between them about setting up a tour and the imminent release of ‘Moonlight Home’.

From what I could tell, he was pretty furious that Tom had decided to fly around the world to explain things to me instead of staying and performing ‘Moonlight Home’ at The Opry without me.

I knew the release date for the single had been put back a little now but I kept out of Tom’s business dealings as much as possible.

Tom was much more relaxed when he wasn’t thinking about contracts and sales figures, and I figured he was enjoying having me around … I wanted to keep it that way.

I asked Tom’s advice about getting in touch with the man from the record company but he told me to hang fire until I’d had the chance to meet his manager Waz.

‘You need someone like Waz on your side before you start trying to deal with record companies and contracts,’ he told me.

‘Waz just lives for brokering the best deals and you’ll be much better off if you have representation.

’ What Tom was saying made sense but I found even the thought of Waz Monsoon slightly terrifying.

It wasn’t the only thing making me anxious.

Tom hadn’t mentioned moving back to Scotland since our first night back, and I could see how much he loved Nashville, but I didn’t dare raise the issue in case it was still something he was wrestling with.

I knew he missed his family, particularly Laura, Fergus and the kids.

Edinburgh was a great city and I could understand how he might feel it was time for a change.

Artistic people often needed to keep moving, find new things to inspire them and shake things up every now and again to get the creative juices flowing.

I knew that. If Tom was yearning for the Scottish homeland of his father rather than staying close to the American heritage of his Alabamian mother, I would understand.

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I would have to understand.

But I knew, as deeply as I was falling in love with Tom, I had to let this love affair with Nashville play out.

Whatever Tom decided, I knew I had to give Tennessee a chance, and decided I needed to mothball my old life, just like I’d walked away from all my old Becky clothes.

Back at Sonny’s Bar, Robbie had jumped at the chance to carry on as manager in my place and also asked if he could rent my flat in Comely Bank while I was away.

It was the perfect way to free myself up to pursue my Nashville dreams while not burning too many bridges, so I agreed at once.

I was also grateful for the income it was bringing in, I didn’t want to have to rely on Tom for everything.

I’d been around the music business enough to know that waiting around for a royalty cheque for ‘Moonlight Home’ might be a long wait indeed.

Meanwhile, I was keen to immerse myself in the country music culture, study more of the history, learn from the best. I went back to The Country Music Hall of Fame several times and visited every other museum in Nashville.

I took the backstage tour of the Ryman Auditorium, learning all about Thomas G.

Ryman, the hard-drinking riverboat captain who had built the Union Gospel Tabernacle in the late 1800s after turning to Christianity and finding God.

The distinctive building with its red-brick facade and arched windows trimmed in white was right in the heart of downtown Nashville, so when it eventually became the home of The Grand Ole Opry the fans who flocked to see their favourite country music stars perform sat on the original wooden church pews, prompting The Opry to become known as ‘The Mother Church of Country Music’. Amen to that, I thought.

For a true music fan, visiting the original Opry was a special moment, as was standing inside RCA Studio B where so many legends, from Elvis to Hank Williams, Roy Orbison and The Everly Brothers recorded so many of their songs.

Dolly herself recorded ‘I Will Always Love You’ right on that spot in 1973 and I got tingles when I took the tour and realised how closely I was now following in Dolly’s footsteps.

As well as soaking up the history, I also threw myself into the new music scene by seeking out the listening rooms and live lounges all around Nashville where singer songwriters played their latest music, talked about the inspirations behind their songs and shared their stories.

I was astounded by how many places you could go to hear musicians open their hearts and share their talent.

It lit a fire within me and I was constantly jotting down my own ideas and lyrics in a little notebook I now kept with me always.

Tom also let me borrow one of his many acoustic guitars.

I was very rusty as I hadn’t really played since having lessons at school, but it felt so good to have the power to create my own music.

I’d been in Nashville for a few weeks and Tom and I were breakfasting at The Loveless Cafe early one morning, hoping to beat the tourist hoards, when he dropped a minor bombshell.

‘How d’you fancy a trip to The Bluebird later?’

The Bluebird!? I’d been dying to go to the most famous listening room cafe in Nashville, but it was such a tiny place and tickets were so in demand it was almost impossible to get in there.

I knew people could queue for hours on the street for the chance to get a seat at one of the few tables to watch musicians perform on the tiny stage or seated ‘in the round’ right in the centre of the room.

I would absolutely love to go to The Bluebird.

I almost choked on my creamed corn and crispy bacon as I tried to tell Tom how much I wanted to go.

‘Now, now, the famous Loveless Cafe biscuits are to die for but don’t let the breakfast here kill you,’ Tom said, laughing as I spluttered.

I grinned and tried to regain my composure, reaching for another of the fluffiest, melt-in-the-mouth biscuits I’d ever tasted and smothering it with peach jam.

‘You look like the cat who got the cream,’ Tom said, his eyes crinkling in amusement, but just as he had sweetened me up with talk of biscuits and The Bluebird he landed his punchline: ‘it will be good for you to finally meet Waz too.’

‘WAZ?’ I spat a shower of biscuit crumbs over Tom as his manager’s name exploded from my mouth.

Tom dusted himself off and laughed out loud. ‘Now don’t get all bent outta shape. Waz isn’t some sort of brute you need to be scared of.’

Hmmm, I wasn’t so sure. From everything I’d heard, Waz Monsoon had a reputation as the scariest, most ruthless manager in the music industry.

There was a rumour he’d once dangled a rival record boss out of an office window until the poor guy acquiesced to Waz’s terms and conditions. The office had been on the 36th floor.

‘Well, he can be fierce and uncompromising, that’s true,’ Tom admitted with a grin. ‘But don’t forget, even if he is a bit of a monster … he’s our monster.’

I wasn’t sure that made me feel much better about the prospect of encountering Waz at The Bluebird later that evening.

This was the guy who had masterminded the ‘showmance’ between Tom and Juliana Ripon, after all.

I couldn’t imagine he’d been very thrilled by my arrival on the scene, wrecking the deal he’d struck with Bebe Blair to gain the couple maximum publicity.

‘Don’t sweat over that,’ Tom said as the waitress refilled our coffee cups, ‘things move fast in this business. Waz knows how to roll with the punches. He’ll be onto the next deal by now, sniffing out the next opportunity. Waz looks forward, he doesn’t look back.’

I tried to take on board what Tom was telling me. It wouldn’t do to be too naive about the business side of showbiz after all. I also took the point that it certainly sounded better to have Waz in your corner than have to face him as an opponent.

I decided on a casual vibe for our trip to The Bluebird.

I knew it wasn’t a fancy place at all and I didn’t want to arrive overdressed.

I dug out a white silky shirt to wear with my jeans and suede boots and tied my hair up in a high pony tail.

When Tom yelled that Angelo was outside with the car I grabbed a leather jacket and ran down the stairs to find him waiting for me in the hallway.

Sometimes just the sight of Tom could take my breath away.

That night as he stood waiting for me by the open front door it struck me just how handsome he looked.

He wasn’t dressed up either, just a plain blue cotton shirt, faded denim jeans and his tan cowboy boots, but as I reached the bottom step he reached for a sandy-coloured cowboy hat to complete his look.

‘Oh!’

He turned to face me as I let out a gasp. I’d also noticed he was holding a guitar case in his hand.

‘How else d’you think we got tickets to The Bluebird?’ he said with a devilish smile. ‘Don’t worry Reba, tonight is an “in the round” event so there’ll be a few other people playing too. You won’t have to put up with listening to me all night.’

I didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him.

I’d never seen Tom perform a proper set before.

The only time I’d watched him on stage was when he’d jumped into my spot at Sonny’s Bar and I’d peeped through a crack in the door from the back office.

I knew I’d love to see him play a big gig one day, like a huge theatre or arena, but to see him in such an intimate setting tonight would be incredible.

I knew big stars sometimes popped up at The Bluebird alongside musicians who were unknown but I never expected Tom was going to be performing tonight. I was so excited I could burst.

‘Do I look okay?’ I was suddenly worried I might look too casual. Maybe even a bit scruffy? What if someone spotted I was Tom Coltrane’s girlfriend and thought me a very poor replacement for a Hollywood starlet?

Tom silenced the self-doubt before it had chance to take hold.

‘You look beautiful Reba,’ he said pulling me towards him with his free hand and sealing the statement with a soft, lingering kiss on my lips.

‘Now get your ass in that car or we’re gonna be late.’