by Nicky Wells
“Excellent idea, my gorgeous.” I high-fived my darling son and we crept out of the lounge again to get organized.
The kids were brilliant, caught up in their little ploy to surprise Dan. Emily carried plates back and forth, one at a time, doing a kind of stealth-tiptoe each way and setting down her cargo very carefully on the coffee table. Josh took care of the cutlery and the fruit bowl, and I brought up the rear with the hot food and drinks. The kids and I sat on cushions on the floor around our laden table, and we looked at each other with big smiles. Mission accomplished!
The quiet bustle of activity in his immediate vicinity had permeated Dan’s consciousness, and he opened his eyes with perfect timing, catching sight of the waffles first, then me, then the kids. He grinned widely, stretched his arms, and sat up.
“What’s all this?”
“Mummy said you were very tired, and so we thought we’d make you breakfast on the sofa,” Josh burst out, unable to contain his energy or joy at the successful surprise.
“Wow, thank you,” Dan issued after a big yawn. He rubbed his eyes and tried to smooth his hair. My stomach lurched at the memory of many a breakfast-in-bed shared by the lovely Dan Hunter and me, Sophie Penhalligan, as I had been back then.
Our eyes locked for a second, and a flash of understanding passed between us. The moment was so fleeting I might have imagined it, but I didn’t think so. Yet the kids’ noisy clambering for food distracted me from that train of thought, and I let it go.
After a hearty breakfast and a long, hot shower, Dan returned downstairs looking like himself. I breathed a secret sigh of relief at his improved appearance. I had probably overreacted last night, and his tiredness had been a result of the long flight and a stressful week.
“What’s next?” I inquired cautiously, knowing that the Jones family would be collectively disappointed if Dan had to leave, knowing also that it would be foolish to assume he would stay.
“I guess I ought to go home and get some fresh clothes and catch up with some stuff,” Dan ventured. “We are having the weekend off, though, so I could come back later? If you want?”
“That would be nice,” I confirmed, feeling unaccountably shy. “The kids haven’t seen you properly in ages. It’s always only been me.” I blushed and felt annoyed with myself, but Dan was either oblivious to my discomfort or tactfully ignored it.
“We could go out to Richmond Park and see the deer, maybe? Or—I know!” His face lit up with delighted anticipation. “We could fly a kite! Have the kids done that before?”
I shook my head, smiling indulgently. “I’m sure they’d love to, only we haven’t got a kite and…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll bring one. It might be guitar shaped, but I’m sure I’ve still got it.”
I burst out laughing. “You’ve got a guitar-shaped kite? Really?”
Dan nodded emphatically.
“Why? Where from?”
“Um,” Dan started. “I was given it. By the band. As a birthday present. When I turned thirty. Because… you know. Three-oh. Three.”
I laughed. “Have you ever flown it?”
Dan looked more sheepish still. “Of course. On the Common, and also in Richmond Park. It’s brilliant there for kite-flying, and the band and I used to go quite a lot, at one time.”
“The band? Why, are there more guitar-shaped kites about?”
Dan’s turn to laugh. “No, but Joe has a drum kit and Darren has a pirate ship.”
I shook my head. “How come that’s never been in the paper? I can see the headlines…” Adopting a news-reader voice, I made sweeping gestures in the air. “Rock star flies kite as high as a kite…”
“Now, now, young lady,” Dan admonished. “We have never done that stuff, and you know that full well. But,” he grinned boyishly, “The ‘rock star flies kite’ bit could be a good angle. Maybe we could take some pictures.”
“I’ll bring the camera,” I deadpanned, half-joking, but Dan took me seriously.
“That would be fab. For, you know…” He backpedalled, seeing my thunderous face and knowing how much I hated the kids and I being dragged into publicity stunts. “… just for me. My godchildren and I. And their beautiful mother.”
“Aw, you!” I thumped him lightly on the arm. He could still talk me around to almost anything, this famous rock star of mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Dan never got a chance to listen to my mastered song that weekend. I totally forgot I had put the flash drive in my handbag, and when he left late on Saturday, he left empty-handed. It wasn’t until the following Wednesday that we got back together again. I had been asked to help out with a school trip on Monday, and it was my turn to be parent helper at Emily’s playschool on Tuesday. For three whole days, I had butterflies in my tummy every time I thought about the flash drive in my handbag. When and how would I get to play the song for him? And what would he say when I did?
My hour of reckoning finally arrived on Wednesday morning. I had just inserted the key into Dan’s front lock when Jenny pulled the door open to let me in.
“Morning,” she whispered. “Mr. Hunter’s down in his studio. He’s not in a great mood.”
I was a little taken aback by her comment. I couldn’t remember Dan ever being in a foul mood. Therefore it was with some trepidation I descended the stairs to join him at the console. What could have happened? Was it something I had done? Had I broken something in the studio?
When I carefully opened the door, I caught the tiniest glimpse of Dan slouched in his chair, leaning backwards with his eyes closed and rubbing his cheeks with his hands in a gesture highly reminiscent of Munch’s famous The Scream. At the sound of my voice, he sat up and put a bright smile on his face, and the visual association faded.
“Morning, lovely,” he said, his voice cheerful and strong.
“Morning, gorgeous,” I answered back and settled myself in his assistant’s chair. Whatever it was that had put him in a bad mood, it didn’t appear to have been me.
Dan looked at me expectantly. Eventually, he held out his hand in a ‘give over’ motion, and I dutifully scrambled to retrieve the flash drive from my handbag. My fingers trembled with nerves as I handed it to him, and I jumped when our hands met for a fraction of a second.
Dan chuckled. “You look nervous. I’m sure you did a brilliant job.”
“I feel like I’m about to be judged for an exam,” I confessed. “I worked so hard, but what if you don’t like it?”
“So what if I don’t like it? Happens all the time. Richard doesn’t always get it how we want it. Sometimes we make him change it. Sometimes we stick with his instincts. That’s what it’s all about. Let’s hear it!”
He smiled his wicked-boy grin as he connected the flash drive to the console, and my heart soared. He seemed quite happy.
“Jenny said you were in a bad mood,” I burst out. “But you seem fine to me.”
His eyes darkened for the tiniest moment. “I didn’t sleep well,” he said. “I can be a bit of a morning grump.”
His tone of voice invited no funny rejoinder, and I held my tongue. No need seeing ghosts and bad portents in every little exchange; besides, I knew all about being a morning grump, being one myself. Only Dan had never been grumpy in the mornings, not to my knowledge, not when we had spent nights together. Then again, that was a long time ago.
The DAW had meanwhile accepted the flash drive and “Turn Your Corner” was loading. I wriggled in my chair, full of nerves again, and Dan reached out to touch my hand in a reassuring manner.
“It’ll be fine.” He smiled, good nature restored. “I look forward to it.”
He hit play, and the song started with the drums I had so carefully balanced and filtered. The sound was crisp and gritty and instantly captivating.
Dan closed his eyes and listened intently. His foot tapped along, and he air-played the guitar with his right hand. I doubted he was aware he was doing it. He looked transported and entranced.
; All too soon, the song finished. Never before had three minutes and thirty-two seconds passed so quickly and so slowly at the same time. Dan’s eyes remained closed as a slow, appreciative smile spread across his face. I held my breath.
Quite unexpectedly, Dan jumped off his chair and punched the air. “Awesome,” he shouted at full volume. “My God, this is totally awesome!”
He pulled me to my feet and gave me a hug that lifted me clear off the floor. He made as though to swing me around, but abandoned that plan owing to the confined space in the studio. Instead, he set me down again and gave me the biggest smackeroony of a kiss on the cheek.
“You are amazing. Oh. My. God. You are totally unbelievable. This is great! This is fantastic!” he enthused, ruffling his hair in joyful agitation, then ruffling mine. I grinned, lost for words at his reaction.
Dan turned his attention back to the DAW and started the song again, skipping forward to the bits he particularly liked. “That’s an amazing effect, it’s utterly brilliant. And…” He forwarded to the next bit that had captured his interest. “Wow. Loud and edgy, I like it. You did all this by yourself, with only a little instruction…”
He gave me another hug. “You must be a genius.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he tilted his head to kiss me at the same time. Our lips met and touched lightly. His mouth tasted sweet and warm, as it always had. I had forgotten how well I remembered his kiss, his touch, as if it had been mere hours rather than years. Dan’s musky, masculine scent overwhelmed me and I closed my eyes, giving myself up to the feeling, going with the moment. Quite suddenly, Dan’s arms encircled me, one hand pushed into the small of my back, the other travelling up, up, until he cupped the back of my head and entwined his fingers in my hair.
A million remembered moments flooded my brain and drowned out rational thought. That night in the Royal, when we had that bath together and then I had fallen asleep before we could compromise ourselves. The morning after, when Dan had explored every inch of my body and we had sex without having sex. My heart rate ramped up several thousand beats and my loin danced at the recollection of his fingers on me, inside me. I swooned ever so slightly. Instinctively, I leaned into Dan and his arms closed more tightly around me, holding me close, so very close, making me feel safe and wanted.
And still his mouth was on mine, seductive, insistent, exploring. His nose touched my cheek, his ragged breath was hot against my face. I noticed and relished the feel of his hardness through his jeans, pressed hard against my abdomen, and the memories kept coming. The first time we made love… What goes on tour, stays on tour. The delicious, heady sex we had had back then. The feel of him on top of me, inside me… I grew hot and dizzy, and there was a longing in my tummy that could only be lust.
For the briefest of instants, I responded to Dan’s kiss with wanton abandon, lips tasting lips, tongue caressing tongue, our hearts beating as one. It was fantastic. It was more than fantastic. It was meant to be. Wild. Dangerous. Forbidden.
Forbidden. In a lightning flash, the arousing memories of our love-making morphed into memories of other men in my life…of Tim…and of Steve. Steve.
My heart caught in my throat, and I could no longer breathe. I choked on my tongue, Dan’s tongue, my guilt. I had caught myself in the act of betraying my deceased husband, and it was an awful feeling. It hurt. I hurt. I had crossed a line. The shame was like a physical thing, a thick layer of sand on my tongue and grit in my eyes, a clamp around my heart, a red-hot pain. Pulling back abruptly, I broke my connection with Dan and took a shuddering breath. Confusion and guilt wrestled for supremacy, but guilt won.
Apparently oblivious to my conflicting emotions, Dan inclined his head, taking a gentle step backwards with his eyes fixed on mine. He bumped into the console and put out a steadying hand, accidentally pressing buttons as he did so. “Turn Your Corner” started all over again, and the sudden volume startled both of us. For a second we froze, then Dan turned the music off and silence enveloped us once more.
“Totally awesome,” Dan repeated, somewhat breathless, but it was unclear whether he meant the song or the kiss he had stolen from me. His eyes danced with desire and something else, something deeper, but I refused to acknowledge it.
“Thank you,” I replied instead, trying to hide my turmoil and inadvertently maintaining the ambiguity.
Dan sent me a goofy smile. “Maybe we should have—”
I never found out what the ‘should have’ entailed as there was a sharp knock on the door, and someone entered without waiting for a response. Dan held out a hand in greeting, whereas I lowered my bottom into my chair, my knees momentarily ceasing to function in the aftermath of the emotion.
The new arrival looked vaguely familiar. Of tall build, with dark hair and dark eyes, he smiled widely as he took in my presence within Dan’s sanctum. “Hiya, Sophie,” he opened without preamble.
I shot Dan a curious glance.
“Sophie, you remember Richard, our sound man. Right?” Dan flapped his hands about in a no-introduction-needed gesture.
The sound man. That made sense. I knew I had seen this face before, but it had been a long time.
Richard stepped forward and gave me a friendly peck on the cheek. “How’yer doin’, Sophie?” he drawled. “I hear you’ve been doin’ great things with them buttons!”
Dan didn’t give me an opportunity to respond. “Wow, wait until you hear her latest production,” he announced. “It’ll knock your socks off. You ready?”
Richard nodded, and without warning or consulting me, Dan played “Turn Your Corner” all over again. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of it. Inwardly, I hugged myself with glee, although a thin sliver of uncertainty permeated my heart with icy spicules. Why was Richard here?
The sound man listened with his eyes closed, completely intent on the music. Dan flicked his eyes between one of his oldest friends and long-time workmate, and me, back and forth, back and forth. I became so nervous I stared at a spot a little above Dan’s head, mesmerized by an ancient little stain on the ceiling. The song ended, and the DAW clicked off. Silence filled the studio until Richard spoke.
“I’ll have her,” he said.
Chapter Twenty
Dan let go of a long breath of relief. “I am so pleased,” he announced. “Congratulations, Sophie. This is high praise from a tough critic.”
I wasn’t sure whether I was fully in the frame. “Thank you,” I mumbled, ever polite. “What do you mean, ‘you’ll have me’?”
Richard perched on the table next to the console. “I mean,” he explained slowly, “I’ll have yer as my apprentice. I don’t apprentice lightly, and it’s been a long time since I last took anyone on.”
“It’s true,” Dan explained, unhelpfully. “Last time Richard apprenticed someone, the chap left after three months. Couldn’t take the pressure.”
Richard smiled wryly. “He couldn’t take the criticism, and he simply didn’t have the ear. But you are in a league of your own, and it’d be my honor to take yer on. If yer like.”
Had my eyes actually been on stalks, they would have swiveled like a periscope on a submarine, left, right, left, right. I wasn’t quite following.
“Hang on a minute,” I begged the men. “I know Dan said something about training me, but I had no idea you guys had cooked up some kind of apprentice-scheme between you. How do you know that’s what I want?”
Both men regarded me incredulously.
“You’ve got the ear,” Richard repeated, being the first to recover. “It’d be a crime not to teach yer to make something of it.”
“Sophie, I thought that’s what you wanted; a new skill, a new project. I’m not a great teacher. I can’t take you much further. You need proper training from the ground up,” Dan gushed. I hadn’t often heard Dan gushing before. It was quite un-Dan-like, but very sweet. He leaned toward me and whispered conspiratorially. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, my sweet. Richard swore he would never take anyone
else on after the last twerp. You’ve changed his mind. Go with it. You won’t regret it.”
“But—but—but—” I couldn’t get my thoughts organized. I probably looked like a stranded fish with my mouth opening and closing.
“But what?” Dan prompted, sensing issues.
“But… sound engineers, they work crazy hours. I can’t do crazy hours. I’ve got the kids to think of.”
Richard gave me a reassuring smile. “Dan’s told me all about yer nippers,” he assured me. “I know you can’t do late-night studio session at the moment. Tell me what you can do.”
I squirmed, feeling put on the spot. “Um, at this point, I can really only do mornings. You know, a couple of hours while Emily is at playschool. Late evenings, maybe I can manage one of those once a week if I find a sitter. Same for weekends, but not on a regular basis.”
My head swam as I tried to compute the logistical implications of all of this. Was I really ready to take this on? I had enthused about this new ‘career’ to Rachel and Mum and Dad, but suddenly I was facing a whole new ball game. I had vaguely considered the possibility of stepping up the training, but this was serious.
Dan grabbed my hand to calm me down. “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Richard and I’ve already talked about this. He simply wanted to hear it from you. I think he was probing your commitment.” He shot Richard a defy-me-and-I’ll-eat-you kind of look.
Richard laughed. “I’m not really an ogre. I only want to know that yer serious. No point starting if yer gonna bail at the first sign of pressure.”
“I won’t,” I objected stubbornly.
“She won’t,” Dan concurred at the same time, sounding stubborn on my behalf.
“Cool yerselves,” Richard appeased. “We’ll do a couple of hours every morning. That’s plenty to be getting started with. Dan will bring you, and we’ll begin with the basics. In a few weeks, you can sit in on actual sessions. The rest, we’ll play by ear. No pun intended.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“That sounds good, if it’s really all right with you,” I exclaimed, excitement and joy surging through me in a giant wave. “Are you sure?” I added. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”