A Healing Love
Copyright© 2025 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 34: The Clarissa Trust
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 34: The Clarissa Trust - Paul Robertson's journey continues as his past and present collide at a star-studded movie premiere, where a connection that once terrified him reignites with passion that threatens to consume them both. Fighting to forge a new future for himself and stop drifting, Paul must finally become the man he’s always been afraid to be. A beautiful, bittersweet exploration of grief, social responsibility, the healing power of love, and learning that sometimes loving someone means letting them go.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction
My messages started to blow up even before Kayla had finished singing ‘Vulnerable’—both individual messages and the various group chats I was in. I couldn’t hear the notification chime, but the bloody thing was in my back pocket and vibrating incessantly, so I whipped it out and switched it off.
I’d reply to the messages later.
Carly’s social media notifications were even worse. Her phone was backstage, and when she picked it up after the show, she took one look at it before turning it off as well.
Neither of us mentioned ‘The Man You Are Today’ after the show or on the way back to the hotel. We didn’t need to. One glance at my face told her all she needed to know—how I felt about the song and about her.
Back at the hotel, we made our way to the bar for a nightcap, and I finally got around to responding to my messages, while Carly began sifting through the thousands of notifications on Twitter and Instagram.
I don’t think she made it through a fraction of them—there were just too many.
It turned out that hundreds of people had shared videos from the show, including Ellie’s surprise appearance, and most of the songs Kayla had performed. The most shared songs were ‘Vulnerable,’ ‘The Man You Are Today,’ and ‘Always,’ which I thought boded well for Carly’s idea of a double album.
Hundreds more people had shared photos as well. There were countless photos of Kayla on stage, especially of her alongside Ellie, along with a plethora of selfies from audience members. Most of the selfies Kayla posed for by the stage door after the concert also made their way online.
It was fair to say that the concert was a success, bringing Ellie along had been a masterstroke and Kayla’s two new songs were being very well received.
“I think I need to call Glenn when we get home,” Carly said on the train from Birmingham to London. Ironically, we were passing Wembley Stadium at the time. “I want to run the double album idea by him anyway and get him to clear it with the label—”
“There’s no need to clear it,” I said. She raised an eyebrow in question, and I continued, “I spoke to Ben about the ‘Creative Control’ clause I had him include in the contract. He confirmed that it gives you complete control over the entire process. If you want to record a triple album, then as long as you can justify it creatively, you can.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Really.”
She smiled and then kissed me, just a tender brush of her lips against mine, yet still filled with all the love in her heart.
“I should still talk to him, though,” she said after pulling away. He’ll be the best judge of whether we should release ‘Vulnerable’ now or hold off until nearer the album release. I think that with the song out there, it might be best to go ahead and release it now, but...” She shrugged. “He’s far more in tune with what’s best on that side of things than I am.”
She wasn’t kidding that the song was ‘out there.’ Even setting aside all the tweets and Instagram posts it was featured in, I had seen at least three different YouTube videos of the song, each with views in the six figures. ‘Vulnerable’ was definitely the more popular of the two songs, although ‘The Man You Are Today’ was also receiving a lot of attention and praise.
“You already know what I think,” I said.
“Release it now?”
I nodded. “Like you said Friday night, it’s a great song, and it deserves to be heard.”
“I love the way this suit looks on you.” Carly was standing behind me as I gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. It was Wednesday, and we’d just had lunch. I was due in Micester in an hour—a full hour before the scheduled start time for the launch. “It just fits you so well.”
She stepped up behind me and put her hands on my hips.
“It should,” I said. “It cost a fair bit.” I turned my face towards hers to kiss her. “Thank you for helping me choose it.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. If I’d had my way, you’d have bought all the suits you tried on, not just two.” I must have tried on a dozen different styles and colours over the course of an hour, but I couldn’t justify buying so many suits when I rarely wore them.
This one was Italian. It was a light grey three-piece, with a subtle, slightly darker grey, wide check pattern. The pattern was so subtle that you couldn’t really see it from more than about an arm’s length away. I’d also bought the same suit in a darker charcoal grey.
The waistcoat had six buttons, with the top one positioned right in the centre of my chest, about level with my nipples. The jacket had two buttons, with the top one aligned with the second button on the waistcoat. I had the top button on the jacket done up, and I must admit that Carly was right, it fitted me perfectly and looked great. But I undid the jacket button. I felt more comfortable that way, and it still looked good.
I was also wearing a brand-new white Oxford shirt and a lilac tie that Chrissy had sent me. Lilac had been Clarissa’s favourite colour growing up. Chrissy once told me about having to decorate her room in lilac when she was eight. That was why she’d chosen it as the Trust’s ‘official’ colour. Chrissy had asked everyone associated with the Trust or who knew Clarissa to wear something lilac. Carly, for example, was wearing the black dress I’d bought her in Birmingham, with a lilac cardigan over it.
I’d have gone with sky blue to match Clarissa’s eyes, but it wasn’t my decision.
“Ready to go?”
I looked at her and nodded. Carly was taking the afternoon off from the studio to support me. She’d already written and recorded another two songs for the album this week. That made it four songs for ‘Part One’ of the album now. If she kept going at this rate, she’d have ten songs by the end of the month, which was less than two weeks away. How many songs do you need on an album these days? A dozen? It felt like the day Carly would be heading back to Nashville was drawing nearer—and far too quickly for my liking.
It was only a half-hour drive to Micester, but I wanted to arrive early. I was also taking Lana and her cello—she would be performing a solo piece as part of the launch—and I needed to collect her from her Campus Heights flat first.
“Nervous?” Carly asked.
I nodded again. “It’s one thing to read the speech out to my friends, like Imogen and Mark, or Lana and Lily, or even Emily and her housemates. But doing it in front of a room full of strangers...” I shrugged.
Carly gave a warm, reassuring smile. “You’ll be just fine. I’m certain of it.”
I pulled into the space next to Will’s Range Rover in the car park at Micester High at about quarter to two. Alannah retrieved her cello from the boot and then told us she was heading straight to one of the practice rooms in the Music Department, which left Carly and me to enter the school and walk through the main reception.
“So, this is your old high school, huh?”
“Yep. I spent seven years of my life in this place, including one of the very worst years of my life.”
“The year your parents died?”
I nodded.
“One of the best years, too, until...” I shrugged.
“Your year with Clarissa?”
I nodded. “Except it wasn’t even a whole year.”
We walked in silence for a short distance until Carly said, “Hang on. Seven years?”
I smiled at her. “Oh, yeah, I forgot, you only have four years of High School, don’t you? Before that, you have middle school—”
“Junior High.”
“Yeah, well, here we don’t have that. You go from Primary School—or Elementary School—straight to Secondary School—or High School—at age eleven.”
“Eleven? That’s, like, sixth grade! Don’t the older kids bully the younger ones?
“It happens, but not as often as you’d think. The real problem is tripping over them in the corridor. They might be small, but they really can get in the way.” I grinned, and Carly shook her head.
“You’re awful.”
“But you still love me.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “What gave it away?” Then she stood on tiptoes to kiss me—just a quick peck on the lips.
By then, we’d reached the Assembly Hall, where the event was taking place. There was a stage at the far end of the room from the entrance. On it were seven chairs—four to the left of a central lectern, two to the right, and one behind the lectern, a couple of metres back. On the floor, three people were arranging rows of chairs.
Chrissy and Will stood between the stage and the first row of chairs, talking with two people I didn’t recognise—one man and one woman—and, to my surprise, my sister.
“Come on,” I said, taking Carly’s hand and striding towards the small group of people. “Guess I’d better get into character.”
Carly squeezed my hand. “You just be you and you’ll do fine. Don’t go pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Chrissy saw me coming, and a warm smile spread across her face, brightening her eyes. As I approached, she exclaimed, “Paul, you’re early!”
“Not too early, I hope.”
When we got to the small group, Chrissy stepped forward to kiss my cheek in greeting. “Now, don’t you look dapper,” she said, stepping back. “Lovely suit. Clarissa would have approved.”
Vicky then gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek as well. I raised my eyebrow. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Who’s at Millie’s?”
“It’s covered,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I couldn’t exactly miss it, now could I?”
I frowned. It felt as though something was going on that I ought to know about.
Will extended his hand for me to shake. I took it, and we greeted one another like equals. “For the record, Paul, you can never be too early. Not for a meeting, at least.” He paused. “And I agree with Chrissy. Love the suit.” He grinned.
“Paul,” Chrissy said, “I’d like to introduce you to Jürgen Schneider, Chairman of WolfgangHaus, and Sabine Neumann, the Chief Executive. They’ve both flown in from Germany for today’s launch.”
Jürgen held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. I understand we have you to thank for all this.” He had a strong German accent, but his English was impeccable.
Shaking his hand with the same firm grip as I had Will’s, I said, “Oh, I can’t take all the credit. It wasn’t even my idea to begin with—that came from my friends. All I did was tell Will and Chrissy about it. Chrissy actually did all the work.”
“That’s classic British understatement for you,” Will said. “None of this would be happening today without Paul.”
Sabine waited patiently for me to finish my handshake with her chairman, then offered me her hand. “Pleasure to be meeting you, Paul.” Her accent was even stronger than Jürgen’s, but I suspected she didn’t speak in English as often as he did. I suppose that made sense given their different roles. She turned to Carly. “And unless I am being very much mistaken, is this not Kayla Valentine?”
Carly blushed and nodded. “I didn’t expect to be recognised here today, to be honest.”
“Oh,” said Sabine, “my son is being a huge fan of the Country Music. He is knowing all of the stars and you are being one of his favourites. He is playing your music albums a lot. Normally, this would annoy me, but your songs are very good. Very pleasant to listen to.”
Carly blushed again.
“I don’t suppose you are performing for us today?”
“No, I’m afraid not. But I can get you tickets to my show in London this weekend if you’d like.”
“Oh, no. I am being too old for such concerts. Far too loud. I’d much rather attend some Mozart or Bach. But I’m sure my son would love it. I can arrange for him to fly over from Leipzig, for sure.”
Carly smiled. “Well, just let me know how many friends he’s bringing, and I’ll sort out backstage passes for them too.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“No, I think everything in here is covered,” Will said. “They’ve almost finished setting out the chairs and just have the banners to go.”
“Banners?”
“You’ll see. Where’s Alannah, by the way?”
“She went straight to one of the practice rooms for a last-minute rehearsal.”
“Understandable.”
“Paul, I need to introduce you to a few more people,” Chrissy said. “They’re waiting for us in the bar with Mr Matthews. You remember him, don’t you? One of the deputy headteachers?”
“Bernie Matthews?”
Chrissy grinned. “It’s probably best not to call him that to his face.”
“Why not?” Carly asked. “Isn’t that his name?” We began walking back towards the entrance. Carly, Chrissy, and I led the way, with Will, Vicky, Jürgen, and Sabine a few paces behind.
Chrissy’s grin widened even further. “No, it’s a nickname. Bernhard Matthews is a brand of turkey meat producers. Bernie is—”
“Short for Bernhard, yeah, I get that. So, what’s his real name?”
“Charles,” I said. “Charles Matthews. But all the kids called him Bernie. He wasn’t deputy head when I was here, though.”
“He was promoted in September, the year after you left,” Chrissy said.
The bar wasn’t far from the Assembly Hall, so we had already arrived by the time we finished talking about Mr Matthews.
“I can’t believe there’s a bar in a school,” Carly said. “This is, like, a real bar! It’s wild.”
“The school is a community centre, too,” Chrissy said. “Lots of the rooms are for hire. The Sports Hall. The Assembly Hall. Quite often, people hire them for parties. That’s why there is a bar.”
There were two groups of people in the bar. One group stood right by the bar with Mr Matthews, and another sat around a table away from it. I recognised one member of that group as Elise Shipman—Micester High’s Headteacher.
Chrissy led us to the group by the bar, with Vicky following behind. Will took the Germans over to the other group, who all stood to greet them.
“Local politicians,” Chrissy whispered to me. “Two mayors, the leaders of three different councils, and three Members of Parliament.”
I raised my eyebrow.
“We’ve got players from Westmouth United coming, as well. And Westmouthshire County Cricket. Westmouth FM radio presenters, too. And a couple of newsreaders from the television. There are Loads of local businesses sending representatives, as well.”
“Like Millie’s,” I said, smiling at Vicky.
“Well, yes,” said Chrissy. “But Millie’s is one of five very special businesses.” We’d arrived at the group of people by the bar. “Paul, Kayla,” Chrissy smiled at my girlfriend—She knew her real name. “I’d like to introduce you to representatives from the first five official sponsors of The Clarissa Trust, all of whom have committed to a yearly donation, to supporting our fundraising efforts and to raising funds from their customers, too.”
I looked at her. “Official sponsors?”
Lana was right. I should have called Chrissy weeks ago. I’d missed a lot.
She smiled at me again. “David Laird, you already know.” She gestured to David, who was standing next to Mr Matthews. He grinned and held up a hand in greeting. Marie was standing next to him, and she smiled too. “Laird and Co will be doing the Trust’s yearly accounts.”
I shook my head. Why hadn’t David told me he was getting involved with the Trust?
Why hadn’t I thought to ask him to get involved?
“And, of course, you already know Vicky.”
“Probably too well,” Vicky said. She and Chrissy both laughed.
“You’re sponsoring the Trust?” I said to my sister.
“The restaurant is,” she replied. “But yes, I’m happy to help out.”
“Gerald Johnson is from Micester Hall,” Chrissy said, indicating the man standing beside Marie. “And next to him is Catherine Thomson from The Ivy Bush Garden Centre.”
Wide-eyed, I looked at the two of them, smiled and nodded.
“And finally, we have Andrew Harris and Rachel Hughes, the CEO and one of the directors of Liddington-Phipps, who, along with their parent company, are the Trust’s primary sponsors.”
“And that’s why the other two have flown over from Germany?”
“Exactly. However, I think it helps that we have so many local VIPs in attendance. Now, Paul, the plan is to appoint a representative from each of the sponsors, the school, and the Westmouthshire Music and Performing Arts Trust as Trustees to The Clarissa Trust, if you approve, of course.”
I smiled. “The more people involved and raising funds, the better, as far as I’m concerned. The more we raise, the more people we can help, surely.”
David smiled. Andrew, standing next to me, genially slapped me on the back. “Quite right, son. Well said.”
“Christine, sorry I’m late.” The voice came from behind us. I turned to see a slim, middle-aged man with short grey hair joining our group. “I went to see Alannah first. I’m delighted she’s one of the first two recipients of this award. It’s so well-deserved. And I believe she’s the one who suggested you come to me with your proposal, so I wanted to thank her for that as well.”
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