Just Carly
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 4: London
I’m going to be on British Television
Friday, January 10 2014 · 9:12am · London · Private
Glenn met us downstairs. He looked at Paul, then at me, then asked whether Paul wasn’t supposed to be on a train.
I told him Paul’s staying until Sunday. At least.
Glenn took me aside to ask if I was sure. I know why he asked. He was there for the months after Nashville, and I made a joke about how well those months sold. He didn’t laugh.
I told him I was sure anyway.
Paul’s beside me in the car now, looking out at London. I keep reaching over to touch his hand, just to make certain this part of the day is real.
Between studios
Friday, January 10 2014· 11:54am · London · Private
I just sang on British television. Chloë and John were there, John won an omelette-making contest, and I somehow remembered every word I was supposed to sing.
I used the backing track, so my hands felt strangely empty. No guitar to hold when the cameras came close. I kept thinking, look at the camera, Carly, then remembering the woman on the screen is supposed to be Kayla.
Chloë hugged me afterward. Paul was waiting when I came off set.
I think I was more nervous about whether he’d liked it than I was about the whole country watching.
After the Live Lounge
Friday, January 10 2014 · 2:08pm · London · Private
They’re saying I’m trending worldwide.
I asked Paul what he thought before I looked at any of the numbers. He said my version of “A Wounded Heart” was better than Tina’s, which is a lovely thing to hear from him and a terrifying thing to hear in a room full of people with phones.
I wasn’t trying to beat Tina. I chose it for Chloë. I wanted to see what happened if I sang it quietly enough that people had to come toward the song.
They listened.
I think Harry and Ellie might like that answer when they ask what I want to do with the album.
London Doesn’t Have Popeyes
Friday, January 10 2014 · 3:19pm · London · Private
Well, he knows I’m moving to Westmouth.
Glenn mentioned it before I could find the right moment, so I explained over chicken. KFC because London doesn’t have Popeyes. Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
Chloë’s offered me a place to stay while I work with Harry and Ellie. Paul asked why I couldn’t make the album in Nashville.
Fair question. Also, for one horrible second, I thought he wished I would. I told him I want to find out what my music can sound like somewhere new. Then he asked how long the album might take. When I said months, he smiled.
I’m smiling at a box of popcorn chicken now.
Here he comes. Put the phone away.
What I actually told him
Saturday, January 11 2014 · 12:26am · London · Private
Paul’s asleep again. I should join him. We’ve had very little sleep since Thursday night, and I have to be on a children’s show in the morning. The children deserve a guest who can form sentences. But I can’t sleep yet.
This morning Glenn asked if I was sure about Paul. This afternoon Paul asked why I was coming to Westmouth. In between, I sang on television and radio and found out people all over the world were listening.
I’ve spent the whole day answering questions. Now it’s quiet, and there are a few I need to answer for myself.
I was angry with Glenn for about thirty seconds.
He took me aside in the foyer as though Paul couldn’t work out what we were discussing. I knew the question was coming. Glenn saw me after Paul left Nashville. He heard the early version of “You Made Me” before I could sing it all the way through without my voice going wrong. He knows why seeing Paul again frightened me.
But I was happy this morning. I had Paul beside me. I didn’t want to start the day by defending that happiness.
So I made the joke about heartbreak being profitable. It was a mean answer to a kind question. I ought to tell Glenn that tomorrow.
He didn’t forbid me anything. He never would. He wanted to know I understood what I was doing, and the truth is I don’t understand all of it. I know I want Paul here. I know he’s here because he chose to be.
That’s enough for today.
Television was peculiar.
I’m used to finding the camera at a performance and giving it a smile. This time the camera was close enough that I could see somebody adjusting it while I waited to sing. There were marks to stand on and a backing track to follow. It sounded wonderful, but every time my hands moved I wished my guitar were in them.
Chloë made it easier. She has this way of talking to you just before something important as if you’re both about to do an ordinary, enjoyable thing. Then she went out and was brilliant, and John made a better omelette than she did, which I suspect I’ll hear about again. Well, John made his omelette quickerthan she did. She was adamant afterwards that hers was better.
I did my piece. Sang the song. Answered the presenter’s questions. Kept wondering what Paul thought.
That’s a little embarrassing to admit after saying I’d sung in front of television cameras without a guitar. Glenn will be interested in how it looked, how many people watched, what came next. Those things matter to me too.
But when I came off set, I wanted to see Paul’s face.
He was there.
I’m getting used to that, and I hope I don’t have to get unused to it soon.
The radio studio felt better the moment I picked up my guitar.
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