Sophie's Encore (30 page)

Needless to say, I said ‘yes’, although it felt slightly odd being left behind in Dan’s house while Dan and the kids went off on a secret mission together. I had no idea what he had planned but actually, I was excited by the prospect of not being in charge. Singing Wizzard’s classic Christmas song at the top of my voice, I unloaded the car and hauled the presents and clothes upstairs.

On account of having my hands full, I had to push the door to my customary guest room open with my bottom, and I nearly dropped my cargo in shock when I stepped in. ‘Fixed the guest room properly for you’ was the understatement of the century. ‘Created your own personal haven’ would have been more accurate. Gone were the pine bed and big wardrobe. In their place, a white four-poster bed waited for me, with gauzy curtains and a colorful quilted cover. It looked at once elegant, dreamy, and decadent.

The far wall was hidden behind a row of mirrored wardrobe doors, and there was a brand new white carpet with red and blue rugs scattered around tastefully. Last, but not least, there was a dinky antique dressing table and a big, squashy armchair by the newly opened and restored little fireplace. This was my dream bedroom, had I but enough money to furnish my own sleeping quarters in this manner.

I set my bag down and ventured into the other guest room, which also had had a makeover. Dan had installed a massive bunk-bed of sorts, but the bottom bunk was at a forty-five degree angle to the top bunk and stripy canopies turned both beds into secret hideaways. There was a big children’s wardrobe, a brand-new dark-blue carpet—sensible choice—and a big storage unit with cheerful plastic boxes for storing toys and bric-a-brac. The kids would be over the moon. They would never want to go home!

Completely overwhelmed, I sat down on the bottom bed and fingered the pink bedding absent-mindedly. What did this mean? Granted, at one point the Jones family had spent a lot of time in this house, but I had put a stop to that since Dan was back, to keep him from burning out all over again. What was he proposing?

Proposing…proposing…posing…
The word echoed around my mind, bouncing off the walls and fading slowly. I was feeling dizzy, but I pulled myself up short. Dan had always been a face-value kind of man. It was obvious, and had been for some time, that he thought of the children and I as his kind of family-by-proxy, and I presumed he was simply indulging this idea. Whether there was a hidden agenda, a deeper meaning to his action…

“Probably not,” I ruminated, rising to my feet and padding back to my own room. “He’s probably just wanting us to be comfortable when we do stay. And anyway…” I kicked off my shoes and succumbed to exhilarated joy. “Who cares? This is fab!”

I did a good movie-heroine impression of launching myself onto the four-poster with a squeal and bouncing up and down. My next stop was the en-suite bathroom, which had also had a bit of a makeover, and I found my favorite bubble bath waiting for me as promised. I turned the taps and squirted a liberal amount of shiny, pearlescent bath essence into the water before discarding my clothes and diving in.

Chapter Forty-Five

I was still in the bath when the doorbell rang. Feeling lazy and rather enjoying my bubbles, I elected to ignore it, but the ringing wouldn’t cease. If anything, it got more persistent until I finally relented. I wrapped myself into a fluffy bathrobe and padded downstairs, leaving little wet footprints along the way. Being ever cautious, I attempted to look through the spyhole first, but the view was obscured by something large and white. I was debating whether to zip round to the kitchen to take a peek out the window when the buzzer went again, and I swung the door open in the sheer desire for the noise to stop.

“
Finally
,” a muffled and highly impatient voice greeted me from behind a large cardboard box. “I thought there were nobody here.”

The cardboard box began to move forward and I stepped back before I got squashed.

“Where you be wanting this then, love?” the voice continued. “In the kitchen?”

“Um…what is it?”

The cardboard box stopped moving and turned a fraction, then tilted sideways as the owner of the voice tried to look at me. He wore a chef’s hat.

“What
is
it? Are you joking?”

I tied the cord of my dressing gown more firmly around my waist, as if the gesture of propriety would help, and shook my head.

“This is your Christmas dinner,” the man informed me. “Where do you want it?”

“In the kitchen, I suppose,” I ordered, pointing toward the door to the left. I was still computing the implications of the unexpected arrival of food when another cardboard box walked in, followed by another, and another. A veritable army of home delivery chefs was invading Dan’s house, and I had no idea whether they were in the right place. After the last chap had shuffled past me, I closed the door and followed them into the kitchen, where I was met by a hive of activity. Tray after little tray of food was being unpacked from the cardboard boxes, some placed on the side and others stacked in the fridge.

“This is your turkey,” the original voice suddenly informed me, and I turned to inspect the bird. “It won’t fit in your fridge. Do you have anywhere else…?”

Thankfully, the front door opened before I had to come up with an answer, and Dan and the kids bounded in.

“Ah, the food’s here,” Dan enthused, and immediately took charge of placing the turkey into storage. The kids rushed at me, sporting tinselly bopper-headbands and chocolate-covered mouths, and told me all about the fabulous time they had had at the Christmas market.

“Dan says we’re going to have a big party tonight,” Josh gushed, and Emily nodded, her shiny boppers accentuating her every move.

“Are we now?” I asked. “I was beginning to get that impression.”

Dan flashed me a look across the kitchen. “Only a
little
party,” he corrected. “Only with the band.

“Ah. Only the band,” I repeated.

“Well, and their families. They’re due to arrive any minute—”

He never got time to utter the “now” as the doorbell rang again. Dan laughed. “That’ll be them. You might want to…” He gestured loosely at my dressing gown attire. I let out a gasp and scurried up the stairs as quickly as my feet would carry me.

“Party…party…he never mentioned a party, what am I supposed to wear? I didn’t bring any clothes for a party,” I muttered under my breath as I sorted through the small amount of clothes I had brought. “Jeans and a top will have to do.” Holding up my current favorite black top shot through with golden thread, I shrugged and got on with getting dressed and made-up.

When I got back downstairs, the caterers had left, the band and their families had arrived, and Dan was busy administering a game of charades in the lounge. Darren, Joe, and Mick sat on one side while their wives or partners sat on the other. We were obviously playing in teams. The kids—mine and Joe’s and Mick’s—were playing with a train set that had materialized under the Christmas tree, and with the fire going and Christmas music playing, it looked like the perfect seasonal soiree.

The afternoon passed in a riot of laughter, food, and music. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so at ease on this day. Perhaps it was because the universe of comparison was so far removed from anything Steve and I might have done. Perhaps it was because this group of people was linked to a time in my life before Steve. Or perhaps it was simply because everybody was having a genuinely fabulous time. When the kids began to get restless, Dan and Mick started carrying in platters of food, and there was everything imaginable to please little and grown-up gourmets.

Joe opened a couple bottles of bubbly, and everyone sang “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” The kids clamored for a taste of the ‘fizzy drinks’ and, taking my lead from the other parents, I let Josh and Emily have the tiniest of sips each. Josh pretended to like it. Emily scrunched up her nose and sneezed, the bubbles having caught right at the back of her mouth. Everybody laughed with her, and she gave a little ballerina twirl. Two-and-a-half years old, and already an accomplished entertainer.

It seemed natural, somehow, to be at Dan’s side, and there seemed nothing wrong with the fact that his arm would wrap around my waist occasionally, that he should pull me into him with a laugh when we all toasted a Happy Christmas and sang another carol. Nobody commented, nobody even seemed to notice, and I filed the sudden feeling of ‘couple-ness’ for later analysis, alongside all the other bits of emotion already germinating at the back of my mind.

By nine-thirty, all the kids were drooping, and, one by one, the band members and their families called it a night, leaving among many hugs and kisses and best wishes for the festive season. Dan carried a drowsy Josh upstairs while I took care of Emily. The two of them were so exhausted, they barely noticed the new bedroom that Dan had prepared for them and simply curled up under the duvets with sleepy goodnight kisses for us. I shut the door gently behind me and followed Dan back downstairs, where he had already begun to tidy up the debris of the party.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Dan stopped what he was doing and smiled at me. “You look wonderful tonight. Did you have a nice evening?”

I crossed the room to give him a hug. “I had a fabulous evening. The best. Thank you!”

Dan returned the hug and we held on to each other for a fraction of a second too long. I cleared my throat and pulled away before I found myself incapable of letting go altogether.

“Now then…where shall we start?”

Dan rallied, too. “Let’s collect up all the rubbish, first, and then carry the dishes into the kitchen. It’ll only take a few minutes, you’ll see.”

We worked in companionable silence, the music turned low and a glass of wine on the go each.

“I love the bedrooms, by the way,” I suddenly burst out, remembering that I hadn’t thanked him for the generous makeover. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Dan set down his rubbish bag. “I know that,” he admonished. “But I wanted to. Nobody ever stays here anymore apart from you.” He scratched his head and smiled, then sat down on the sofa and pulled me down next to him.

“It’s not like in the old days before, you know, everyone had families. When the band would camp out here for days on end, and we’d have wild, raucous parties. That doesn’t happen anymore. Not very often, at least.” He grinned to soften the inadvertent melancholy in his comment. “I guess we’ve all moved on. And the only people that stay here regularly are you guys, the Jones family, my…my borrowed family. I wanted you to have a little bit of a home here so that when you
do
stay, it’s…well, it’s nice for you. Especially for the kids. I mean, blow-up beds are great, but…”

He faltered and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not…I’m not suggesting anything. I just…simply…well, I could make the rooms more beautiful for you, so I thought, why not?”

“They are beautiful,” I assured him. “I love them. Just you wait until the kids wake up in the morning and take in the change properly. They’ll be so excited, they’ll never want to go home.”

I felt a bit woozy and let my body sag against Dan’s for a moment. Dan put his arm around my shoulder, and I relaxed into him even more. It seemed the…natural thing to do.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” my rock star suggested and hugged me closer. I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. The fire was still crackling gently in the grate and there was a distinct hint of Christmas magic in the air. Never mind the bin bags lined up in a neat row by the door, and the piles of plates stacked on the coffee table waiting to be taken through to the kitchen.

Dan caressed my face with the ball of his thumb, tracing my cheek, my eyebrows, lightly touching my nose.

“Mmmh mmmh.” I made soft noises of enjoyment, and Dan turned me around so I half lay on him. “Mmmmh mmmhh mmmhhh,” I responded and Dan kissed me.

His hands were all over my body, on my back, in my hair, under my top, on my breasts. It was amazing how swiftly his hands could move, and every stroke, every touch sent a delicious tingle through me. In turn, I covered his face in kisses and ran my hands up his chest, alighting on his nipples, still hidden under his shirt, and tweaking them teasingly. Dan went wild and bucked beneath me, grinding his hardness into my loins.

“It…is…a…good…thing that…we…are…still…dressed,” he panted between heavy breaths. “Otherwise I…wouldn’t be…accountable…for… my actions.”

“Is that so?” I teased, and removed my top with one swift moment. Dan groaned and pulled me down onto him, licking my nipples then sucking them until I practically melted with desire. I was hot and cold all over and could feel my ladyship dancing through my jeans. We writhed and turned and fell off the sofa, landing on the floor with a loud crash and sending a pile of plates flying. Nothing could have killed the sexual moment between us faster than the resulting explosion of noise, and we sat side by side as if frozen, waiting to hear if we had woken the kids.

Gradually, my breathing slowed and eventually I dared to look Dan in the eye.

“Sorry about the plates,” I muttered.

“No need to apologize,” Dan retorted. “Goodness knows where we would have taken each other if we hadn’t fallen off the sofa.”

“On the sofa, presumably,” I deadpanned, but was met with a blank stare.

“We would have taken each other on the sofa,” I elaborated.

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Would we now?” he mused. “And would that have been a good idea?”

“It would have been naughty,” I surmised.

“
Very
naughty,” Dan agreed, the lightness in his voice belying the meaning of the words. Suddenly he turned serious. “And are we quite ready for
very naughty
yet?”

I picked at the hem of my black top, which I had swiftly pulled back over my head when we unleashed the wave of noise into the house.

“I don’t know,” I replied at length. “Are we?”

Dan didn’t respond at first. He scrunched up his forehead and rubbed his hand across it. “Do you know, this reminds me of something…” He shot me a grin. “Do you remember that time on the coach? That was
just
as awkward.”