Sophie's Encore (15 page)

“Indeed,” I concurred. “You’ve had at least…oh, nine hours sleep. Not enough to catch up on everything you’re missing, but a start.”

“It’s one o’clock?” Dan was fixated on that point. “What happened to the session with Richard?”

I grinned. “Oh, that happened. He taught me about room mode and standing waves today. It was awesome.”

My gorgeous rock star lay back in his bed, totally confused. “You went? By yourself?”

I nodded.

“And you survived?”

I nodded again, suppressing a grin.

“And you
enjoyed
yourself?”

Another nod, accompanied by an inanely proud grin.

“Wow.” Dan ran a hand across his forehead. “You
have
arrived. I think Richard has a soft spot for you. And room mode, huh? Serious stuff.” He tickled my side. “You’ll know more than me soon.”

“That’s the general idea,” I chuckled. “Come on, up you get.”

Dan reluctantly hoisted himself out of bed. He stood uncertainly for a moment, swaying ever so slightly, and I rushed to his side to steady him.

“Why, hello there,” he murmured suggestively, wrapping an arm around me. “It’s nice to have a beautiful lady throw herself at me first thing.”

I swatted away his arm with a playful nudge, even though my heart beat furiously and eagerly in my chest.

“Now, now, Mr. Hunter, behave yourself,” I admonished but Dan laughed and didn’t look in the slightest put out.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he mock-saluted before making his way into the bathroom. I left him to it and went back downstairs.

When he finally joined us in the kitchen, all traces of the night before were wiped out. He was bright-eyed and sparkly and joined Emily in her lunch of scrambled egg and bacon on toast as though it was the most normal thing in the world. It probably was, to him. After all, it could have been breakfast.

Even though Dan stayed at home for the rest of the afternoon, I didn’t get a chance to talk to him about working and sleeping and looking after himself. He busied himself playing with Emily and offered to collect Josh from school.

“This proxy-parenting malarkey is completely ruining my rock-star lifestyle,” he joked, his eyes dancing.

When he and Josh returned from the school run, they brought home all the ingredients for home-made pizza and pudding. Dan made the tomato sauce and had the kids spread the pizza dough into one enormous party-pizza. The kids garnished their sections to their own taste, while Dan looked after his and mine. Needless to say, he didn’t consult me on what I wanted. I had been a double-pepperoni-with-pickled-chili girl for as long as he had known me.

Dinner was a carefree, golden family moment with cheerful chatter, candles, and wine for the adults. Never mind it was a school night, the kids stayed up well past their bedtime, and I ended up putting them to bed in Dan’s spare room yet again. When the little monsters were fast asleep, I insisted on doing the dishes, even though Dan told me that Jenny would take care of them in the morning.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving all this work to her. It’s not right,” I explained, and he let me be.

He retreated to the studio while I clattered with pots and pans, but re-emerged when all was quiet on the kitchen front. Without discussing it, we settled on the sofa to watch a movie, and this time, it was Dan who gently prodded me awake halfway through the evening and suggested it might be time for my beddy-byes. He dispatched me upstairs with a little kiss I was too tired to object to. And I wouldn’t have wanted to object, anyway.

I was nearly asleep when I heard the front door open and close, then being locked, followed by muffled footsteps down the front path.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“We’re like Tom-Tom’s family,” Josh announced quite out of the blue during a Saturday morning breakfast a few days later.

Dan looked up from his complicated task of spreading strawberry and apricot jam in little neat quarters on Emily’s toast. “Who’s Tom-Tom?”

“And more to the point, what’s Tom-Tom’s family like?” I interceded, inwardly rolling my eyes. Trust a man, however smart, to get hung up on the details of lesser importance.

“Tom-Tom is my new best friend,” Josh declared and reached for his milk. “His mummy and daddy live in different houses, like we do, but they see each other all the time, and Tom-Tom says his mummy says his daddy says he wants to live in a new house together.”

Dan shot me a look across the table. “Does he now,” he mused, leaving it unclear whether he was referring to Tom-Tom or his daddy.

“He does,” Josh beamed, “and I’ve been thinking we could, too.” He spread his hands out wide in front of him, and I couldn’t help wondering where he had seen that gesture. But the punch-line was still to come. “I mean,” he continued with the innocence of a four-year-old, “we live here anyway, really, don’t we?”

A million and one questions and quagmires opened in my mind.

Dan caught the despair in my eyes and cleared his throat. “Of course you do,” he declared. “So that means you have
two
houses to live in. Because sometimes I come and sleep at your house, don’t I? So really, that’s pretty cool, if you think about it, isn’t it?”

Josh gave that some thought while I held my breath. Perhaps, just perhaps, Dan had struck the right note. A reluctant nod followed by a slow smile indicated he had.

“But,” Josh persisted, “are we a family?”

Once again, it was Dan who took the bull by the horns. I was unable to speak, my throat having dried up completely. I gulped down some too-hot tea and burned my mouth.

“Of course we are a family. Sophie is your mummy, and I am your godfather.”

“But not my real daddy,” Emily piped up.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Dan continued without blinking. “No, my sweet, not your real daddy. Your real daddy is in heaven.”

“But he did ask Dan to look after us all,” Josh supplied, remembering well the discussion we had had in the car.

“He did,” I concurred.

“Will you go to heaven soon?” Emily’s face puckered with sudden worry.

Dan burst out laughing and pulled her little body onto his lap. “I hope not, my buttercup, not if I have anything to do with it.”

Emily’s arms flew round his neck in a protective gesture and Dan beamed delightedly.

“How’s about we go to the zoo today.” I launched into an abrupt diversionary tactic, knowing my offspring could persist on this line of discussion for some time yet, and also knowing they could be easily deflected onto more pleasurable pursuits with three little letters. Emily immediately abandoned Dan’s lap and danced round the kitchen. “Yes, pease!”

Josh also started a mad voodoo-style dance before dropping to his knees.

“Look at me, I’m a lion,” he roared, then straightened up and flapped his arms. “Can we feed the lorikeets?”

“Of course,” I agreed and started stacking dishes.

Dan cleared away bread and jam and whistled a little tune. For the first time ever, I felt a little awkward. With all the secret thoughts I had been having, and after my little stolen moment of one-sided affection the other night which kept playing on my mind… With all that going on in the background, I felt like the wife of a rock star who wasn’t really the wife of a rock star and who had to broach the subject of whether her man would spend the weekend with her and the kids, or whether he would be doing rock-starry things. And I didn’t quite know how to handle it. But of course, I had no real claim on Dan. And I didn’t know, couldn’t work out, whether I wanted one. Whether
he
would want me to have one. What would he feel if he could see inside my head? What a quandary.

Dan resolved it for me. “I’m off to the studio later,” he informed me casually, as he would have done on any other day. “I can’t join you guys at the zoo, but I can be back for dinner. Would that work?” There was genuine concern in his voice that my wishes should be met, that his little almost-family should be happy.

I gave him a hug. “That would be lovely. But tell you what, why don’t we have dinner back at our…
my
house today?” I lowered my voice. “I think it would do the kids good to be back at home for a change, and you can come and go as you please, and that’ll be just…how it is.” I tailed off lamely, not sure how to explain my motivation.

“Fabulous. You’ve got a deal.” He returned the hug and topped it with a little kiss.

This turned out to be the beginning of a new routine. If anything, it was probably even more reminiscent of Tom-Tom’s family life, but it was clear, unambiguous, and suited everybody,
and
it freed up time for Dan to work and rest. During the week, I let Dan be after our morning recording session. He often came to our house for dinner a few nights during the week if he could manage.

Friday and Saturday nights, however, the kids and I typically stayed at Dan’s house. Dan made every effort to spend mornings and evening mealtimes with us. On Friday nights, Dan went out as usual at around eight, but Saturday nights he spent with me, curled up on the sofa or occasionally going to the cinema or theater if Jenny agreed to babysit. Always we slept in separate rooms even though on the odd occasion here or there, I wondered whether maybe… Well, whether
maybe
. I never got any further than that as I kept a tight lid on those thoughts.

I
had
to, otherwise I would have fallen apart. I couldn’t admit to myself that Dan put the butterflies back in my tummy. I couldn’t acknowledge that perhaps I was experiencing a renascent physical attraction for Dan. If I did, I would be turning my back on my husband and I wasn’t ready for that. On the other hand, I was a widow, not a nun. Would it be wrong to want some human affection, some sex? It wouldn’t necessarily imply love, or abandoning the memory of my husband, right?

But still, I couldn’t go there. I simply didn’t know what was right for me, or for my family, at that time. So I let my confusion fester unattended in that locked-away folder in a corner of my brain, and allowed myself—and the kids—to simply go with the flow for a while.

And as such, everything was perfect.

It was quite blissful.

It lasted for a month.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I got the first inkling something was wrong when Dan caught a cold that simply wouldn’t shift. It started shortly after Josh went back to school after his first half-term. He came back with a dreadful cough and sneeze during the first week, and the entire family succumbed within days; Dan included, of course. Except where the three Joneses shook their viruses off in a matter of days with the help of copious amounts of hot water with lemon and honey, Dan’s cold clung on. The timing was dreadful as the band was still recording.

Dan went to his doctor to get some medicines that would enable him to keep working, and he was on a hefty regime of decongestants, painkillers, and some sort of throat tablets. He had been told to come back if symptoms persisted after five days. Being a man, he ignored that order and carried on popping the pills while the prescription lasted. No amount of bullying by me made him see the light, and I held my tongue in the end.

Quite soon, Dan looked like the lead actor in a zombie movie. Yet he kept going, and cheerfully at that. I was mystified. He carried on as normal, working with me and Richard in the mornings, joining me and the kids for dinner, going out recording or partying at night. If he got more than four hours sleep on any given day, it would have been a miracle. And still, the worse he looked, the more hyper he got. He continued to refuse to talk about his health and though I was worried sick—pardon the pun—I didn’t know what to do. So I cooked healthy meals, refused to serve any alcohol, insisted on plenty of tea instead, and let him crash-nap on the sofa whenever he fell asleep.

The build-up to a big party at the Hyde Star Inn brought with it a new level of feverish activity. The band was scheduled to perform three of their new songs as a kind of preview gig, and for the week preceding the party, Dan practically disappeared as the band ceased recording and rehearsed instead. For the first time in months, the kids and I barely saw Dan. We returned to our Jones-family-only life at our own house, and although we missed Dan sorely, we were okay.

On the Saturday morning of the big promo party at the Hyde Star Inn, the kids and I were delighted when Dan turned up at our house for breakfast at nine. He simply walked in, sat down and joined us as though he had come down from the bedroom rather than driven partway across London. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and he was unshaven, but his demeanor was bright. Over-bright, in fact.

The kids babbled on cheerfully while I focused on feeding and watering my adrenaline-powered rock star. I kept piling bacon and eggs on his plate, and he wolfed them down without really noticing. He already had the biggest mug in the house, and he drained three helpings of sweet tea with lemon, and still he was asking for more. I didn’t know whether to be delighted he was refueling, or concerned at the extraordinary quantities consumed.

“When did you last eat?” I asked while I brewed another pot of tea.

“Hm?” Dan wasn’t really listening.

“When’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

“Oh.” Dan shrugged. “I don’t really know. Yesterday lunchtime, I suppose.”

I suppressed an expression of horror and played it positively instead. “That’s good. And…good rehearsal last night?”

“Hm-hm,” Dan responded, temporarily unable to speak through a mouthful of food. “We finished rehearsing at about ten and went to a party.”

I breathed deeply to stop myself from making a scornful remark. Instead, I stirred the tea and removed the bags before I made a brew so strong it would send us both through the roof. When I rejoined Dan at the table, the kids having long since left to go play upstairs, I surreptitiously examined his appearance all over again. Listening to him chatter away, I could be forgiven for thinking he was simply a little overexcited about the upcoming gig. A pre-launch was a big deal, after all. But looking at him, I felt duty-bound to put him on immediate bed-rest. I didn’t say any of that, of course.