by Nicky Wells
“Sleep always helps,” I retorted. “You should try it more often.”
The barb passed Dan by as he settled on the sofa to watch telly with the kids, struggling to safeguard his modesty in my too-short dressing gown. I threw him a blanket and he accepted, spreading it across his legs and snuggling down. My fingers were itching for the camera to document this extraordinary scene. Nobody, but nobody, would have recognized Dan Hunter in this display of familial coziness. I didn’t, of course. I fixed dinner instead.
Dan got dressed before dinner, selecting a pair of jeans and a dark shirt from amongst the clothes I had brought.
“Thank you,” he said, putting his arms around my waist and planting the briefest of kisses on my cheeks. “You are a star.”
I smiled, and the kids giggled at our half-serious display of affection. The oven timer broke the mood, announcing dinner was ready. Dan let me go and made a show of sniffing the air. “What’s that gorgeous smell?”
“Chili,” I announced proudly. I adored making chili con carne with my secret recipe. In deference to the kids’ taste buds, it wasn’t terribly hot, but it was tasty and juicy, especially if served with lashings of melted cheese. “Would you like to join us?”
Assume nothing, hope for the best. I kept my tone light and my face neutral, suddenly aware that I was treating Dan like a gazelle who was liable to shy away and take off at the slightest scare.
“I’d love to,” he agreed.
Dinner passed quickly, time running through my fingers like sand, and all too soon, Dan announced he would have to get ready to leave. He went upstairs, singing one of his new songs, and returned a half hour later in his leathers and the silky blue shirt, top buttons undone, as always.
My heart jumped into my throat as I took in his appearance. Oh my, he was a gorgeous man. Always had been, always would be. My nose caught a waft of his aftershave, and I held onto the kitchen counter to stay upright while my legs threatened to buckle in a momentary swoon. I could feel a slow blush start on my cheeks and work its way down my neck. What on earth was going on? I was behaving like the star-struck teenager I had once been. Why was it, after all this time, after everything that had happened between us, everything we had been through together, my wedding, Steve’s death—how come after all this time, I suddenly got a dizzy spell again just because Dan put on the full rock-star act?
The kids were in awe. They had never seen Dan in his full glory, not face-to-face, and they danced around him as though he was a god descended from heaven.
“You look like someone on telly,” Josh announced. “You look like a rock star.”
Dan shot me an amused glance as he bent down to speak to Josh. “That’s because I am a rock star,” he said and burst out laughing. “D’you know,” he addressed me as he straightened up, “I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone like this before. ‘That’s because I am a rock star’” he mimicked himself, laughing again.
I stepped across and ruffled Josh’s hair. “Sweetie, you know what Dan does. You’ve seen the albums and the photos, you’ve heard the music?” It was a question more than a statement.
“I know,” Josh explained himself, jiggling up and down impatiently. “I know all that. But this is really real!” He raced off around the room like an airplane. “I can’t wait to tell everyone at school that a real rock star has been to my house!” And he flew upstairs, Emily in his wake.
Dan perched himself on the side of the sofa. “What was that all about?” he reflected, somewhat dumbstruck.
“I don’t really know,” I confessed. “But kids are like that. Your albums and your photos, that’s all a bit abstract for them, I suppose. But seeing you like someone they might recognize on the telly, that makes it real. As absurd as that actually is.”
Dan shook his head. “Well, at least I can still wow the next generation,” he chuckled.
“You certainly can,” I agreed. “And the current one, too.”
Dan looked up. “Is that so?” he teased, his voice gentle and low. His blue eyes, no longer bloodshot or red-rimmed, brimmed with mischievous excitement.
“Is that so,” he murmured again, leaning in to nibble at my ear. His breath was warm against my neck, and for one short second, I nearly forgot once again who I was or where I was.
Only nearly, though, for the heavy clatter of feet on the stairs announced that airplane Josh and entourage Emily were on the return journey, and Dan and I shrank apart hastily. The smile remained in Dan’s eyes and he poked my side playfully.
“We’re gonna talk about this later, young lady,” he threatened.
“Maybe.” I fiddled with the sleeve of my jumper and tried my best to backpedal from the moment.
Dan arched his eyebrows, but said nothing more. He wouldn’t have been able to anyway as the kids now buzzed around us with noisy laughter. Josh had retrieved his kiddy camera and was asking to take pictures, and Dan preened obligingly. Emily looked on adoringly. Dan really was wowing the next generation.
He left at eight-thirty after helping put the children to bed. There was a hint of reluctance in his eyes as he shrugged on his leather jacket. “Wish you could come,” he said.
“Me, too,” I confessed, but made light of my inexplicable disappointment. “Maybe next time, right?”
“Definitely,” Dan said. He leaned in and kissed me on the mouth, surprising us both. For a moment, I savored the feel of his lips on mine. The heady scent of his aftershave mixed with that of his masculinity filled my universe and dulled any rational response. My body responded to his affection with a hot flush starting on my cheeks and racing down to my toes. My heart beat wildly and I enjoyed the adrenaline rush. Pressing myself against Dan eagerly, I raked my hands through his hair.
What are you doing, Sophie? a small part of my brain wondered somewhat belatedly, but I ignored it and kissed on. Dan wrapped his arms around me, and the very heat radiating from his body made my knees weaken. This man was hot with desire.
We remained locked in this embrace until we needed to come up for air. Confused despite my arousal, I took a step backwards and broke free of Dan’s arms. He was panting heavily, taking ragged, shuddering breaths. His face was flushed, and his eyes had a feverish glitter to them.
My God, maybe Rachel is right, I suddenly thought. Maybe he does still want me. I certainly seem to be having an effect on him! I smiled softly to myself.
“You are quite something,” I whispered. “But I think it’s time you went.” With the intention of planting a chaste farewell kiss on his brow, I cupped his face in my hands tenderly. Yet feeling the dry, intense heat in his cheeks projected me abruptly into concerned mummy-mode. I touched his forehead, and the back of his neck. Hot, too hot.
“I think you have a fever,” I declared. “Let me get a thermometer. Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t go tonight?”
Dan shook off my worry with levity. “If I have a fever, it’s because you’re burning me up inside,” he joked, half-quoting a line from one of his songs. “But seriously, I’m fine. And I really ought to go.” His face flickered with regret and anticipation. “It’s weird, being with you,” he suddenly remarked. “It’s changing everything.”
Before I could begin to compute the implications of what he had just said, he roused himself and rushed to the door. “I’ll be off, or I’ll never make it,” he threw over his shoulders.
“Have a great time,” I shouted after him, but I didn’t think he heard me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It wasn’t until the door had shut behind him that I realized I didn’t even know whether he would be coming back to my house, going home, or staying at the hotel. I poured myself a glass of wine as I settled in front of the telly and surmised that, based on previous experience, he was most likely to stay at the hotel. He had always done so in the past, even when he was going out only miles from his very own bed.
I giggled and blushed as I recalled a night we had spent together at the Royal Hotel over a decade ago, g
etting very nearly, but not quite, up-close-and-personal. Yup, on balance, he would probably stay in a suite at the Hyde Star Inn.
I went to bed at eleven with only the slightest sense of unease, having spent all evening convincing myself that Dan would be okay, would probably have finished the gig already and be happily partying. Stretched out under my snuggly duvet, I fell asleep instantly and dreamed vivid dreams involving the kids and Dan playing a noisy game of hide-and-seek.
The house was dark and the alarm clock read three a.m. when a particularly loud bang woke me up. I lay in the darkness and steadied my breathing, suppressing recollections from my inadvertent drug bust and resulting fears of retribution. There is nobody in the house apart from you and the kids, I told myself calmly. However, the distinct and unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls coming up the stairs told me otherwise, and I stuffed a hand in my mouth to keep from screaming. For the fraction of a second, I considered that it might be Dan, but I dismissed the thought. He would be staying in the hotel. And anyway, the irregular, heavy thumps didn’t sound like him at all.
The footsteps reached the top landing and silence ensued. My mind was racing, and I was paralyzed with frustration at not being able to recall where I had left my mobile phone. The landline handset by the bed would beep when I lifted it off the cradle, and I really didn’t want that to happen. My bedroom door was only ajar, as always, and the man was sure to hear any noise I made. Hell and damnation, but did I never learn?
The silence was oppressive and I was shaking with fear. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes before there was a massive thud, followed by a groan, followed by more silence.
The groan, however, was familiar, and I leapt out of bed. Nearly tripping over my own feet in my tired haste, I pulled open my bedroom door but ground to a halt at the threshold. Dan was sprawled across the floor at the top of the stairs. He had barely made it all the way up before collapsing. My first reaction was anger. How dare he to get so blindingly drunk and come back to my place, frightening me and quite possibly the kids, too?
Thoughts of waking the kids galvanized me into action, and I tiptoed across the landing to close their bedroom door. But when I returned to Dan, I had to shelve my anger. This man wasn’t drunk. Something else was wrong.
Even by the scant illumination from the nightlight on the landing, I could tell that Dan was white as a sheet, as ghostly pale as I had ever seen anyone, but with a bright heat burning red in his cheeks. I sank to the floor beside him, using the sleeve of my pajamas to wipe his brow. He looked at me and mumbled something incoherent. His eyes were feverish and unfocused with enormous dilated pupils. He was drenched in sweat and shaking violently, his breathing shallow in between bouts of hoarse coughing.
“Dan,” I whispered. “Dan, it’s Sophie. Can you hear me?”
No response.
My heart jumped into my mouth and a thousand thoughts chased each other around my head. What was I to do?
I stroked his forehead and tried to make eye contact, which was difficult as Dan’s gaze skittered all over the place. Primal fear took hold of me, and I rose to my feet abruptly.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” I declared and turned to go into my bedroom for the phone. A desperate, violent gurgling sound stopped me in my tracks.
“No. Please, no.” Dan’s words were barely audible between his ragged breaths and I paid no heed.
“Dan, you need medical attention,” I reiterated and took another step away from him. Unexpectedly, Dan’s hand shot out and clamped around my ankle with surprising strength. I nearly fell over with the motion.
“No,” Dan rasped again and tried to speak on, but his words drowned in another coughing fit. He held onto my ankle for dear life while his lungs heaved, and I slowly sat down again. The act of restraining me and the effort of coughing had worn my rock star out completely. His hair was matted with perspiration and the brightness in his cheeks shone even stronger than before. Dan desperately needed a doctor. Evidently, he didn’t want one. What was going on?
“Dan, let me get you to bed at least.” I grasped at the next reasonable course of action. He had to get off the landing for his own sake, as well as mine and my family’s. If the kids woke and saw him like this….
Dan tried to speak again, but this time his tongue merely lolled in his mouth and no further words came out. I swallowed hard, trying to control my panic. I stroked his face some more, but his eyes were closed and his eyelids barely fluttered in response to my caress.
“Dan,” I said again, speaking a little more loudly. “I need to get you into bed, okay?”
Dan rolled his head from side to side before pulling his legs up into a fetal position as his body was consumed by a violent attack of the shivers. I held his face in both my hands, simultaneously trying to stem his quaking and make him look at me.
“Dan!” This time, my voice was nearly a shout. “Dan, look at me!”
No response again. His eyes remained closed and his mouth worked furiously as if he were chewing. Next thing I knew, he tried to bring a fist up to his mouth. He was uncoordinated and clumsy, and he never made it, but the act caught my attention.
“What have you got in there?” I demanded. “Let’s see.”
Dan made an incoherent sound. There was a sinking feeling of foreboding in my tummy, and I was watching the two of us as though I was detached from the scene. I saw myself take Dan’s hand, shaking and clammy, and pry away his fingers, one by one, until I revealed a small, orange-tinted but transparent plastic bottle half full with small pills. I took in a sharp breath as I turned the bottle over and over in my hands. There was no label on it, which I took to be a bad sign. Something was very seriously wrong here. And I needed help with this; I needed help helping Dan.
Dan was becoming more agitated by the second. With apparent effort, he opened his eyes again and looked around wildly until he finally saw the bottle in my hand. Weak and disorientated though he was, he nonetheless tried to grab the pills back out of my hands. Anger rose in my throat alongside bile, and I whipped the offending pharmaceuticals out of his reach. “Oh no you don’t,” I hissed. “You’ve done far too much damage already, you stupid man.”
I stuffed the bottle into the breast pocket of my pajamas and did the third weightlifter heaving-rock-star-into bed impression of my life. Momentarily too furious to be compassionate, I yanked at Dan’s arms and upper body until I had him almost upright. When he stumbled and refused to cooperate, I slapped his face to get him to focus.
“Get up and walk, dammit,” I hissed. “If the kids see you like this, I’ll kill you.” I didn’t mean that bit, of course, but it got a reaction. Dan made a grand effort, and together, we stumbled the few steps into my bedroom, where Dan collapsed yet again and passed out like a dead weight. I closed the door and switched on my bedside light. For a minute, I sat on the floor and wept.
I pulled the vial of pills out of my pocket and looked at it again. My hands now shaking almost as much as Dan’s had, I fumbled with the cap until I had the bottle open and shook some pills into the palm of my hand. They were white and looked fairly innocuous, almost like sweets, but they weren’t stamped with any pharmaceutical company’s logo or make number, and that in itself was the worst piece of news. Humble painkillers, they were not.
“What am I to do?” I wailed, purely for my own benefit as Dan’s eyes were closed and he was very much passed out. He was breathing but he was shaking all over, and I knew I had to do something. Well, not something. Dan needed an ambulance, he did, he really did. But he had begged me not to make that call.
Was I to listen to my friend, or to my gut instinct? How much time did I have to make that decision? Could I risk losing another of the men in my life?
I grabbed Dan’s wrist and tried to take his pulse. It took me ages to find it, and when I did, it was thready and fast, but it was there. I gave myself permission to make one more call before summoning the medical services. One more minute. Just to be sure I was doing the r
ight thing for him.
Rachel answered after the second ring.
“Sophie?”
“Rach,” I whispered as loudly as I could. “You have to help me. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she soothed me. “Henry is teething, and you know what that’s like. What’s up?”
“It’s Dan,” I sniffled but forced myself to get a grip. I related events as coherently as I could, ending on the hateful orange bottle of little white pills.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered. “What’s going on?”
Rachel responded with a volley of quick-fire questions. Had Dan been working hard? Had he seemed strange? Up and down, perhaps? Hyper, at times?
I answered each question with a simple ‘yes,’ desperate to cut to the chase now. “What’s going on? I have to call that ambulance, right?”
Rachel spoke quickly, urgency in her every word. “Dan’s been taking something. He needs a doctor fast.”
“I know! But Rach, he begged me not to call an ambulance—”
“Call 999, now. He’s done drugs, and you need to help him.”
“I—”
“Sophie, he may be dying! Hang up, ring that ambulance, and I’ll be round as soon as I can. Do it. NOW.”
The line clicked dead as my friend hung up and the shock propelled me into action. Feeling stupid now for indulging Dan’s request, I dialed 999 with clumsy fingers. He may be dying. He may be dying. Rachel’s words ran round and round my head and I barely managed to stop myself from howling in despair.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
While I waited to be connected, I retrieved a thermometer from my bedside drawer were it lived in continual readiness for child-related crises, and I took his temperature. He was running a fever of forty degrees centigrade, the equivalent of one hundred and four, and I panicked even more. Hurry up, operator, I have a sick man here!
Although it seemed an eternity, in reality, I spoke with an emergency operator in mere seconds. The dispatcher was great. She asked me short, relevant questions, reassured me, gave me advice, and told me an ambulance would be there within minutes. Meanwhile, I was to make sure that Dan didn’t choke in the event of vomiting and stay with him in case he woke up or had a seizure.