Just Carly
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 6: Westmouth
The little black dress
Saturday, January 11 2014 · 5:47pm · Westmouth · Private
Mirror selfie taken. Posted. Apparently I can show thousands of strangers my dress and cowboy boots, but the thought of walking downstairs and letting Paul see me has made me check my hair four times.
Chloë’s house is beautiful. She’s made me feel welcome. I’ve unpacked, found my room, and got through an entire afternoon without asking Glenn whether Paul has texted.
He has texted. He’ll be here at six.
I met some of his friends at the premiere, but tonight they’ll get to talk to me properly. What if they’ve spent the last two days hearing the story of Nashville and decided they don’t like me?
What if I can’t remember their names?
I’m checking my hair again.
In Paul’s car
Saturday, January 11 2014 · 6:11pm · Westmouth · Private
I heard him arrive while I was still upstairs. Then I heard Chloë laughing, which did not help.
When I walked into the kitchen, Paul turned around and smiled at me. I blushed in front of Chloë and her friend Cassie like I was about sixteen.
Now I’m in his dark blue car. I went to get in on the wrong side because I briefly forgot where British people put the steering wheel. He’s going to enjoy reminding me of that.
He said I looked beautiful.
I had planned several clever answers in case he said something like that. I said “thank you” and grinned at the dashboard.
The Mariner
Saturday, January 11 2014 · 8:24pm · Westmouth · Private
I know their names now. Mostly.
Paul introduced me as Carly. I liked that more than I expected. Imogen started asking questions before I’d finished taking my coat off, but she smiled while she did it, and Emily rescued me whenever I looked lost.
We’ve taken pictures: one with me, Emily and Imogen, and one with Paul and Emily. I’ve shared them, and my phone keeps lighting up with people asking who everybody is. I’m answering the easy questions.
Paul’s friends tease him mercilessly. He gives as good as he gets. I’ve heard him laugh like this with me, but seeing him at his own table with people who’ve known him for years is different.
I was afraid I’d feel like an extra chair. I don’t.
This drink needs its own chair
Saturday, January 11 2014 · 10:18pm · Westmouth · Private
Chloë and I have posted a photograph of ourselves holding cocktails so enormous that half the replies are asking whether we’re actually allowed to lift them.
The other half are asking if we’re going to make an album together. I think they’ve confused “standing next to a singer” with “joining her band.” Chloë says she’ll consider it if I let her play the triangle.
We’re upstairs at Central Pier with the whole group. I was nervous when we came in, but everyone’s talking over everyone else, and Cassie has appointed herself my guide to the cocktail menu.
I can see Paul from here. He’s with the boys, looking over now and then to see what we’re doing.
I should put this down before Chloë catches me writing to myself and decides I need another drink.
Taking a breather
Sunday, January 12 2014 · 12:16am · Westmouth · Private
We danced. Paul danced too, in the sense that he was on the dance floor with me and moved his feet occasionally. I had a wonderful time.
I told him I’m staying at Chloë’s tonight. It’s my first night as her guest, and I can’t vanish off to his place or ask him to stay here without even checking with her.
I was worried he’d be disappointed. He understood before I’d finished explaining.
He asked about tomorrow. Harry and Ellie in the morning, then I’m free. He wants to take me to his sister’s restaurant for Sunday lunch with Chloë and Adam. He started describing roast potatoes so enthusiastically that I made him stop.
I’m going back to dance with him in a minute. First I wanted to write down how relieved I feel.
The first night at Rose Cottage
Sunday, January 12 2014 · 2:43am · Westmouth · Private
The club closed at two. I’m back at Chloë’s, washed my face, changed into pajamas, and got into a bed that feels much too large tonight.
Paul went home.
That’s perfectly normal. I live here now, at least for a while, and he lives at his house. We’ve made plans for tomorrow. I have his number, and he has mine.
I still looked back when we said goodbye.
I was so nervous before he arrived that I nearly changed dresses.
There was nothing wrong with the black one. I liked it when I put it on. I liked it in the photograph I shared. My followers liked it too, judging by the replies. But then I imagined walking into a room full of Paul’s friends, and suddenly I was wondering if I’d dressed for a different sort of night.
The boots settled it. I put them on, looked in the mirror and felt like myself again.
Then Paul arrived, and I stood upstairs listening to voices in the kitchen. I could hear Chloë laughing. I knew she was going to make him feel at home; she’s wonderful at that. I just wished I could borrow a little of her confidence before I went down.
When I walked in, he looked at me as though he was glad I’d kept him waiting.
I forgot every sensible thing I’d meant to say.
I think Chloë and Cassie were having fun at his expense before I came in. Cassie looked at me with the sort of smile people wear when they know a joke you’ve missed. I may ask Chloë about it tomorrow. Or I may decide I’m happier never knowing.
The Mariner was quieter than I’d expected. That helped. I could hear people’s names when Paul introduced them, even if I didn’t retain every single one.
He called me Carly.
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