by Nicky Wells
Jodie elbowed me. “You’re the expert. What would bring you here?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t be here. There’s nothing to gain. If you’re worth your salt, you’ll get your story firsthand somehow. You don’t have to rely on hanging about in doorways and all that. I bet my bottom dollar there’s no reporter from Read London here. Anyway…” I pulled the hood of my coat up and wound my scarf around my neck, half obscuring my face. “As it is the middle of November and very nearly freezing, I suggest we wrap up and walk in.”
Dan’s sister bellowed with laughter. “You’ve certainly acquired a certain nous since you’ve been hanging out with my brother,” she giggled. “I like your style. Let’s do it.”
Chatting amiably, heads high and blatantly disregarding the press, we sauntered toward the hospital entrance as though we didn’t have a care in the world. We didn’t make eye contact with anyone and sailed through, no questions asked.
“That was easy,” Jodie exclaimed once we were safely inside. “Now to the ward.”
“I think that bit will be harder,” I muttered back. “At least, I hope it will. If they let just anyone up to Dan’s room, there’ll be trouble sooner or later.”
We wandered up to the bank of elevators. Unless Dan had been moved, he would still be in the main complex, and we had to get up to the second floor. When I pressed the call button, a be-suited man stepped forward to address us. He had been so discrete at loitering, he had completely escaped my notice.
“I’m awfully sorry to bother you, but may I ask who you’re looking to visit here today?” His voice was deep and firm and invited an answer.
“I’m Sophie Jones,” I introduced myself. “I’m here to see Dan Hunter. This is Jodie Chase. She’s his sister.”
At the mention of Dan’s name, the man produced a clipboard and scanned down a list of names. He looked up and smiled. “Thank you, ladies. Up you go. Have a good day.”
“Nicely done,” Jodie complimented him and smiled back. The man merely inclined his head and melted into the background, ready to address the next visitor.
“Well, he’s not hospital staff, that’s for sure,” I remarked as we traveled up. “Jack chose well.”
“He did. He would. Dan’s his meal ticket.”
“Whoa, that’s a cynical way of looking at things. I always thought of them more as friends,” I teased.
“They are friends. But business is business, and at the end of the day, Jack gets paid to look after the band’s affairs. That includes crises such as this one. I’m thankful that Jack is such a fabulous person. Not every band manager has been known to respond to…issues as successfully, promptly, or discretely. But look, here we are.”
The elevator doors opened and we stepped out. I led the way toward Dan’s room, retracing my steps of the previous day, and we fell silent as our footfalls echoed on the polished floors. Jodie briefly took my hand and squeezed it hard. How I hoped Dan would be better.
Dan’s room was unmistakably marked by another security officer stationed in front of it. Like the one in the lobby, he looked professional and friendly. He examined us and checked our names against another list before inviting us to go in.
“You go first,” Jodie suggested. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“I…you’re his sister. You should go in first,” I objected. “You haven’t even seen him yet.”
“He won’t care about me half as much as he’ll care about seeing you,” Jodie retorted. I wondered at her meaning, but it wasn’t the right place or time to probe. “Go on,” she continued. “Make his day.” She opened the door and gave me a gentle shove.
Dan was awake.
His face was pale, but not as pale as it had been, and he looked less feverish. He was breathing unaided, although he was still attached to a drip. His eyes were trained on the door, and he saw me immediately. There was no delay, no confusion, no lack of focus in his reaction. A smile spread over his face, and he raised a hand, reaching out for me.
For a moment, I forgot all about Jodie right behind me, or the security man, or the hospital room. My knees went weak, and my heart was in my mouth while I took the four steps into the room and straight to Dan’s bedside. I took his hand and held it tight, never looking away from Dan’s eyes for even a single moment. He was better. He would pull through. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that. I could see the improvement. No doubt. He wasn’t out of the woods, but he would make it.
Dan still smiled.
“Soph,” he said, and his voice sounded better, too. Still a bit raspy, but more Dan-like.
“Dan,” I replied softly. “Hey.”
We held each other with our eyes for a few moments while I struggled to find words that would adequately convey my feelings.
“How are you feeling?” I ventured eventually. Epic fail! What about, “I love you,” or at least, “I’m so glad you’re better?” Anything to let him know I cared for him more deeply than he understood? Quick, Sophie, say something else.
“I—”
“I’m feeling much better,” Dan offered before I could make any dramatic declaration. Then he caught sight of Jodie hovering in the doorway. He laughed quietly, but the sound quickly turned into a coughing fit.
“Jodie!” he exclaimed when he had recovered. “Cor, now I really know I’ve been poorly. Come in, come in, let me see you, sis.”
Jodie stepped forward. She looked shaken and worried and gave a watery smile.
“You big oaf! How on earth did you get pneumonia?” she admonished, her voice gentle and light-hearted and entirely belying the fear on her face.
Dan shrugged and puckered his mouth. “Don’t I get a kiss? I haven’t seen you in months.”
Jodie pecked him swiftly on the cheek before sitting down on his visitor’s chair. All of a sudden, I felt surplus to requirements. This was family. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time, and they had just had a big scare. I had no place there. Feeling self-conscious and a little uneasy, I squirmed on my feet, fumbling for something to say.
“Um.”
Brother and sister were still looking at each other, and my resolve strengthened. I had to leave them alone.
“Um. I…well…um.” I fiddled with my hair. “I think I must be going now. I…um.”
Dan and Jodie regarded me with wide eyes, and the family resemblance was striking.
“Things to do,” I blurted and made to turn.
“Sophie.” Despite the residual rasp, Dan’s voice was sweet as honey. “Don’t be silly. Sit down. Please don’t go.”
“Don’t go,” Jodie echoed, sounding sincere. “Come on, we’ve got so much to talk about! This useless lump here isn’t up to much, so I’m relying on you to tell the story.”
I wavered. I didn’t really want to go, of course. At the same time, I didn’t want to make a nuisance of myself and intrude on family time.
Dan coughed and reached for the glass of water on his bedside table.
“Eight years,” he grunted. “Eight years we’ve known each other. Seventeen, if you go back all the way to Edinburgh. And you’re still worried about making a nuisance of yourself?”
How did he know?
Jodie backed him up. “It’s written all over your face. Come on, don’t be daft. Sit down. You’re practically part of the family anyway. If it hadn’t been for you…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, and it occurred to me that she seemed to know more than she let on. Anyway, the desire to stay won over my social politeness, and I grabbed a chair and sat down. Dan smiled.
“There’s no need to look so smug,” I teased him, but very gently. “I was worried sick. And I have a bone to pick with you, Dan Hunter. Next time I tell you to go back to the doctor’s, you’ll jolly well not ignore me, do you hear?”
Dan pretended to be crestfallen. He dropped his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was really stupid.”
Stupid, indeed, but not just for not going back to the do
ctor’s. I suppressed the question I was yearning to ask and turned to Jodie instead.
“Has he always been this stubborn?”
She giggled. “He used to drive Mum nuts. One time, he went outside to play in the snow in his pajamas, without shoes, I might add, because he’d gotten bored of lying in bed with a fever.”
“Now, now,” Dan admonished. “If you’re gonna dish the dirt on me, sis, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
And thus we chatted easily, the three of us, for a short half hour before Dan practically fell asleep in mid-sentence. A nurse had checked in on him twice while we were there, and when she saw his eyelids drooping on her third visit, she unceremoniously threw Jodie and me out.
“Come back this evening,” she advised. “You may visit the patient between six and eight.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
It was another four days before I next found myself alone with Dan during visiting time. To begin with, Jodie was camped out in the hospital. While the two siblings rarely saw each other, they always stuck together in times of crisis, and she wanted to be absolutely certain that Dan would pull through without further complications before she relinquished her space at his side. Seeing the affection between brother and sister was touching. It reminded me woefully of what I had missed out on as an only child, and made me doubly glad that I had two kids of my own. Whatever happened, they would have each other.
Of course, I didn’t really mind Jodie’s presence at the hospital. How could I? She never once made me feel superfluous or unwanted, and in a weird way, it was as though this occasion made me become absorbed into Dan’s family. But it was tough, never having a moment alone with Dan.
If Jodie happened to be absent for a while, a nurse or a doctor would bustle in. Jack visited, of course, as did sound man, Richard, and even Rick, my old boss. And when the media frenzy was diverted toward a footballer who had been tweeting with his girlfriend while his wife was giving birth to their first child, the rest of Tuscq quickly ventured into the hospital to visit their poorly front man. On the one occasion where absolutely nobody else was with Dan, I had brought the kids who were clamoring to be convinced that Dan would get better.
In this manner, I had had no opportunity to talk with Dan privately. Four days wasn’t a terribly long time in the grand scheme of things, but they had been so fraught; so busy with dividing my time between the hospital and the kids, so up-and-down with Dan’s fever rising and falling, but generally refusing to yield completely to the medication, that my re-discovered love for Dan had taken a back seat. Where I had longed to burst out with the realization on first seeing him again, that moment had passed, and I didn’t know how to broach the subject. Whether to broach the subject.
So I was unsurprisingly a little tongue-tied when, on the morning of the Friday after Dan had first been admitted with pneumonia, I suddenly found myself alone with my rock star.
“Morning,” he greeted me with a strong and almost cheerful voice. His bed was raised, and he was sitting up, reclining regally against a pile of cushions and finishing up his breakfast. For the first time, there was a little color in his cheeks, and it wasn’t the unnatural glow of a high fever. His eyes were sparkling, and his hair was freshly washed. The improvement was so marked and so sudden that it was a lot to take in.
“Morning,” I mumbled back, retrieving the visitor’s chair and sitting down. “You look so much better.” Suddenly, I noticed the biggest tell of all. “Your drip’s gone!”
Dan grinned and wriggled his unencumbered right hand. “It certainly is. My, what a relief. Fancy a hug?”
He held out both arms and I rose to let myself be enveloped in a clumsy hug. It felt good. Without noticing, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Hmmm. How I had missed him.
Dan let me go and held me at arm’s length. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I responded automatically. “Fine. I’m just so happy that you’re on the mend. You gave me such a fright.” I made to sit back on the designated chair, but Dan patted his bedside.
“Please, sit here. I can’t bear you being so far away. Plus,” he flashed a cheeky grin. “I’m supposed to rest my voice so I mustn’t talk loudly. Much easier, therefore, if you sit here. Close.”
By golly, he was recovering fast. I nudged him gently on the shoulder, but obligingly sat on the bed. Dan took my hand.
“I’m sorry I gave you such a fright,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“What happened?” The long overdue question came out before I could hold it back again. “What happened at that party that night?”
Dan’s face fell. “I…I don’t really remember. I wasn’t feeling too good and…” He paused, gathering his thoughts.
“I know you weren’t feeling good. You looked as though you had a fever when you left my house. I should never have let you go,” I mused. “I feel bad.”
“Please don’t,” Dan objected. “It’s not your fault. I would have gone even if you’d begged me not to. It was a big deal. I couldn’t just bail. You know I’ve done whole concerts with ear infections and some such. Doing a few songs with a small fever didn’t seem unreasonable.”
“And yet…you ended up collapsing on my landing,” I pointed out. “There was more going on than a small fever.”
“But I didn’t know that when I left, did I?”
“So what happened?” I prompted again. I was like a dog with a bone. I had to know. This was the right time. “You did the show and…?”
Dan let go of my hands. He was becoming agitated and laced his fingers together, clenching them into a tight heap of digits. The gesture almost resembled a prayer.
“I did the show and things looked up for a while. The songs went down well, and I came off on a real high. Jack introduced us all to the audience, as if they didn’t know us, and we had to mingle. I had a beer. You know how I like beer.”
I grinned. I didn’t want to, but I did. “I know how you like beer,” I concurred. “But there was more, right?”
Dan shot me a rueful look. “You’re like the Spanish Inquisition this morning.”
“You turned up in my house with a bottle of E’s. Of course I’m like the Spanish Inquisition.” Oops.
My accusation came out sounding harsh and bitter, surprising me as much as Dan. He looked as if I had hit him. He said nothing for a moment, and I held my breath. I hadn’t meant to confront him this way. I had hoped he would tell me on his own, but I had jumped the gun, and now the statement was out there, hanging between us like an ice-cold dagger.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Dan finally uttered. “I was…I wasn’t with it anymore. I knew I was in deep shit, and I needed help, and you were the only place I could turn to.”
I took his hand. Rage and fury notwithstanding, it hurt to see him so torn up. “And you should have come to my house. I am so grateful that you did. If you’d gone to your house, on your own…”
That desperate scenario had played in my head a thousand times, and I couldn’t bear to think about it. It hadn’t happened, thankfully. I snapped to.
“I’m angry because you took drugs,” I clarified. “I’m pissed off that you brought them to my house, into the very place where two young children were sleeping, innocently and peacefully. If they’d found you before I did…If they’d got hold of the stuff…”
I swallowed hard. That scenario had also played in my mind a thousand times. I picked at a corner of Dan’s duvet, unable, for the moment, to meet his eye.
“I am so, so sorry,” Dan repeated. The choke in his voice made me look up at last, and Dan was crying. “I…there is nothing I can say to make this better. Other than, I had no place else to go, and I knew you would make it all right.”
The emotion in his words touched me deeply. He had been a desperate, sick man, and he had turned to me. He had needed me. And now he was coming clean.
“I… After I had had a few beers, I was feeling rough. I was s
o tired. I sat down on a sofa somewhere, and I believe I dozed off. Jack found me and told me to buck up. I guess he thought I’d just drunk too much.” Dan smiled ruefully. “As if. Anyway, I went to the loo to take some painkillers and some other stuff that I’d gotten from the pharmacist to keep me awake.”
Caffeine boosters, Dr. Smith had said. I didn’t say anything, but I nodded.
“That worked for a while, but I drank more, and I had another dip. I went back to the loo and this chap followed me. He…”
Dan paused and took a sip of water. “He offered me stuff. Amphetamines. E. I’d had one, once or twice before. I know, I know, we’ve always sworn we don’t do drugs, and we don’t, really.”
I felt like my world was about to disintegrate, but then I told myself off. He’s a rock star, I reminded myself. What do you expect? Lots of ordinary people do drugs on the weekend. I bet Rachel does. And anyway, where is the line? I drink alcohol. I take painkillers. Those are drugs, too.
A black hole of thoughts and convictions threatened to swallow me, and Dan must have seen the confusion on my face.
“Oh God, Soph, I feel like you’ve discovered my clay feet after all this time. Listen to me.” His voice was urgent, and he touched my face to make me look at him.
“I don’t do drugs. The band doesn’t do drugs. But that doesn’t mean that, very occasionally, we don’t…um…well, take something. Something…err…recreational. It’s impossible not to, sometimes. Everybody does it.”
“Not me,” I objected in a small voice. “Never.”
“I know,” Dan wailed. “You’re…you’re like an oasis of goodness. Do you have any idea how precious that is? How amazing you are?”
I swallowed hard. I had been naïve, really. I was naïve. Always had been. Presumably always would be. I was foolish to expect everybody in my life to abide by my standards. Perhaps I was foolish to close my eyes to the realities of life out there. What would I do when the kids came home one day, spliffed and high and on something? Never having experienced that myself, how would I react? How would I know the right way to handle that situation? What was the right way to handle the present Dan situation?