Sophie's Encore (The Rock Star Romance Series)

by Nicky Wells

  He was fishing. My God, he was fishing. He knew, and he knew that I knew he knew, and he wanted me to come out and say it. The mind boggled.

  I looked around the small hospital room. I took in the emergency life support equipment still stationed by Dan’s bedside, and the faded curtains. My eyes wandered along the slightly battered walls, painted a shade of pale blue, and rested briefly on the door to the bathroom.

  Here? Now? Expectation hung in the air between us, palpable like a living thing, and I broke out in a sweat.

  “Possibly.” I evaded an outright answer eventually. “And I’m only saying maybe. But if there is, you’re not well enough to hear it.”

  Dan arched his eyebrows. “Come again?”

  I touched my finger lightly to his nose. “You’re weak and dependent and you’re not yourself and—”

  “Gee, thanks. I’m not on my deathbed yet,” Dan objected.

  “I’d rephrase that to ‘you’re not on your deathbed anymore’.” I amended his meaning pointedly. “And I don’t think you quite know what you’re saying at the moment and therefore…” I raised my hand to silence him before he could interrupt again. “Therefore I declare you unfit for rational emotional conversation.” Take that.

  Stunned, Dan burst out laughing. “‘Rational emotional’ is an oxymoron, my sweet, and you know it.”

  My turn to suck in a breath. “Don’t you smart-aleck me, Mr. Hunter,” I said in a mock-offended voice, and somehow, the awkward moment passed.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, my darling,” Dan joked back and yawned. He clapped his hand to his mouth. “So sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I reassured him. “You are, after all, still recovering. Talking of, what’s this fancy cottage I hear about?”

  “Ah. That. Well…Jack thinks I ought to get out of here and go somewhere more pleasant and private. He’s found some posh cottage down Devon way and arranged for some kind of person to come and look after me while I…convalesce.” He placed an odd emphasis on this last word, as if he couldn’t quite get his head round the notion that he would need more time to recuperate.

  “Well, I think that’s a splendid idea,” I issued. “I’m quite envious, actually. I’d quite fancy a month in a little cottage by the sea myself.”

  “I’m not quite sure it’ll be as nice as your little runaway jaunt to Langeoog that time,” Dan observed. “I can see you getting all dreamy. But you’re welcome to visit, of course. I’d…I’d like that.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got the kids and everything… a lot will depend on where this place is and where we could stay.”

  Dan nodded, but looked crestfallen all the same.

  “I’m not fobbing you off,” I reassured him. “God, to think of not seeing you for four weeks…” I shuddered, and Dan grinned. “But shall we get you down there first of all and see what it’s like before we make any grand plans? Who knows what your caregiver has in store for you. You might be knackered and in bed every night at eight!”

  “God, I hope not. I thought the whole idea was to rest!” Dan looked dismayed at the prospect of physical therapy.

  “I’m sure it is. Chin up, you do what the doctors say and you’ll be good as new before you know it.” I half-clambered on the bed again to give him another hug and he pulled me close.

  “Come on up and lie down,” he cajoled in a soft, gentle voice, wiggling his body to one side of the narrow bed to make some space for me. I giggled like a teenager.

  “If you insist! But on your head be it if you get in trouble with the nurses.” I wiggled my feet to kick off my shoes and carefully lay down beside Dan, snuggling into his arms. He raised his duvet to pull me under, but I drew the line there.

  “Don’t do that. It’ll look really dodgy if someone walks in. Let me just lie here, in your arms. That’s good.”

  We lay there for a good hour, holding tight and just breathing. Every now and then, a rattly breath from Dan’s chest would speak of the lingering illness which, while better, was not vanquished. Yet overall, the mood was peaceful and relaxed, a tonic for my bruised and battered soul. I stored every moment, every sensation in my memory to stock up reserves for Dan’s impending absence.

  Eventually, Dan’s breathing became slower and deeper, and I knew he was asleep. Very gently, I clambered off the bed and put my shoes and coat back on. I switched off the bedside lamp and waited for my eyes to adjust. When I was certain my bustling about hadn’t woken Dan, I pulled the duvet up to his chin and tucked him in, good and proper. I laid a kiss on his forehead and whispered a farewell before I left.

  “Take care, my love.”

  Chapter Forty

  “Are we nearly there yet?” Emily’s voice piped up from the backseat, sounding bored and slightly petulant. The initial excitement at going off to Devon to see Dan in his little house by the sea had worn off a mere hour into the journey, and she was getting increasingly restless and fraught.

  “Not long now, my sweet,” I assured her for the twenty-seventh time since we left the motorway behind in Exeter. “Remember? I said it would be about an hour after we left the blue road”—the blue road being the motorway—“and I’m just about to turn off the green road unto the yellow road and then it’s just a few more turns.”

  Josh held up the giant mapbook I had given him and traced his finger along the route marked in red pen so that Emily could see where we were. It didn’t mean much to either of them, but it had kept Josh entertained. Alas, if only it were as easy as turning off the green road unto the yellow road. Very shortly, I would have to abandon the comfort of named and numbered roads and brave the little white roads.

  Dan’s hired cottage was on the Devon coast just before Plymouth and the Tamar estuary. His instructions sounded easy, but with two fractious children in the back, calm navigation was beyond me.

  “Help Mummy out.” I tried to involve my son in the driving effort. “We’re looking for signs for the Cliff Road.”

  “Cliff Road,” Josh repeated. “With a curly ‘c’ or a kicking ‘k’?”

  “Curly ‘c’” I clarified.

  So absorbed was I in sounding the word out for him that I nearly missed the turnoff. “Ooh, look, there it is,” I exclaimed just as Josh burst out, “I see it, Mummy, there, there, turn, quick.”

  Emily began bouncing up and down in her car seat. “Nearly there, nearly there,” she shouted.

  I followed the road around, slowing down so we could take in the stunning sea view that had opened in front of us. And okay, it was late November and bitterly cold, but the sun was shining and the sea was as blue as ever.

  “Can we go to the beach, Mummy, please?” Josh latched onto this notion, remembering summer holidays in Cornwall at my parents’ house.

  “We can go to the beach if Dan is well enough, but we won’t be bathing, and we might not be able to build any sandcastles.” Best to down-manage his expectations before he could throw a tantrum. “And here we are.”

  I pulled up in front of a cottage called Cliff Heights and stopped the engine. Silence enveloped us for a moment, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it.

  It was two weeks since I had last seen Dan in the hospital. He had called and texted every day, filling me in on the draconian rest and exercise regime his caregiver was putting him through and begging me to come see him. “There are plenty of bedrooms here. There is enough space. It really won’t be a problem,” he kept reiterating until I finally caved.

  “Let’s go in, let’s go in.” Emily and Josh were clamoring to be released from their car seats.

  Our arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed, and Dan was opening the front door to the cottage just as I released the children from the car. Emily spotted him first and fairly flew into his arms.

  “Dad, Dad,” she yelled, and a lump caught in my throat. Whether she continued to confuse the sounds or whether she actually considered Dan her dad, I couldn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Even if she had shouted Dan, the emotion in her
voice spoke volumes.

  “Emily, sweetheart, it’s so lovely to see you!” Dan’s voice emerged loud and clear, and he swept Emily up in a hug.

  “And Josh, too!” Dan pretended to be surprised. “My, haven’t you grown in the last few weeks. You’ll be taller than me soon.” He grinned, and Josh homed in for a cuddle of his own.

  “Me go inside?” Emily was impatient to explore, and Dan let both kids go. “Of course, go and have a look.”

  He straightened up and held his arms out to me. “You made it.”

  “We did.” I stepped into his embrace and basked in the light shining in his eyes. Dan wrapped his arms around me, and we stood for what seemed an eternity. Eventually, he started shivering, and I disengaged myself from his hold.

  “You’re cold. Come on, inside with you. I’ll just get our bags from the car.”

  “Let me help,” Dan offered, his teeth chattering.

  “I’ll manage,” I admonished him. “Get warm, or I’ll get in trouble with the nurse.”

  Dan grinned. “You will, too. All right, if you’re sure you can manage…” He retreated into the cottage while I retrieved our bags.

  ‘Cottage’ was a bit of an understatement, as I discovered when I trudged through to the bedroom allocated to me. For starters, the building was a bungalow, albeit with a steep cottagey roof. Having crossed an open-plan lounge-diner-kitchen with a massive fireplace and phenomenal views across the bay, I discovered a sumptuous, tastefully decorated bedroom with en-suite for my use and a smaller bedroom with two single beds for the children right across the corridor. One bed sported a Fireman Sam duvet, and the other Hello Kitty.

  “Do you think they’ll like them?”

  Dan’s voice made me jump. I turned to face him.

  “I’m sure they’ll love them. How fortuitous that…” I petered out when I saw the beaming smile on his face.

  “You got them for us?”

  Dan shrugged. “Well, technically Peter did, but I had the idea.”

  “You…” I couldn’t put my feelings into words and took another tack. “They’ll never want to leave, you know.”

  “Good,” Dan observed. “I don’t want you all to leave.”

  I punched him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ve only just arrived. Shall we have some—”

  “Mummy!” Emily’s shrill shriek interrupted me, and goosebumps trickled down my spine.

  “Emily! Where are you? What’s happened?”

  “Mummy-y-y!” My daughter’s voice went up a pitch and near hysteria threatened to engulf me.

  “Where is she?” I demanded of Dan, but right at that moment, Emily came flying down the corridor.

  “Mummy-y-y-y!” She screeched to a halt in front of me, looking undamaged, but overexcited.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” My voice wobbled slightly, still fearful to make a dreadful discovery of hurt or broken limbs…if not on Emily’s part, then Josh’s.

  “Swimming pool, Mummy. Look, look!” Emily took my hand and pulled me impatiently in the direction from which she had just emerged.

  I threw Dan a look. “A swimming pool?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t hire this place. But before you ask, there’s a sauna, too.”

  “A sauna?” I knew I was sounding slightly unhinged, but this was somewhat unexpected. A cottage, I had been told. Not a one-person luxury spa resort.

  “A sauna. We could try it together later?” There was a glint of mischief in his eye before he amended his statement. “Peter makes me go in there for ten minutes after my afternoon swim. It’s medicinal, you see. Steam is good for the lungs, or something.”

  “Come on, Mummy.” Emily was oblivious to the sparks flying between the adults, and I laughingly yielded to her call to be shown around the rest of the cottage. We found the swimming pool, where I also met Peter, who was in earnest conversation with my four-year-old. Dan stepped to my side.

  “Peter, this is Sophie. Sophie, this is Peter,” he introduced us with the customary back-and-forth hand-waving.

  Peter smiled and held out his hand. He looked to be in his late thirties, probably slightly older than me but just a little younger than Dan, with a shock of blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

  “Nice to meet you,” he drawled in a deep West Country twang, and I shook his hand.

  “And you, too. That’s quite some set up you all have here.”

  Peter grinned. “I know. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I arrived. And I really couldn’t believe it when my patient arrived.” He laughed. “This is quite the plum job. Apart from keeping Dan from singing, of course, and from making him do his exercises.”

  “Are you being a difficult patient?” I teased Dan.

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Only occasionally. I do most things Peter asks me to do.”

  “You look so much better,” I burst out. “Worlds apart from the hospital. You’re up and dressed for starters.” I reached out a hand and stroked his woolly jumper. “This get-up suits you. You never wear clothes like this in London.”

  “It’s not as cold as this in London. Just wait until we go outside later. There’s a wind blowing in off the sea that’ll chill you to the bone.”

  The children had been half listening to our conversation while they took it in turns to walk around the pool.

  “Outside, outside,” Josh suddenly piped up.

  “Swimming, swimming,” Emily objected.

  I grimaced, sensing impending disagreement and resulting tantrums but I was rescued from an unexpected side.

  “Lunch,” Peter declared firmly. “It’s lunch time and we’ll have lunch.” His voice invited absolutely no argument, and, confronted with so much natural authority, my children gave in immediately.

  “Lunch,” their voices echoed eagerly. And, “What is for lunch?”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Lunch was a simple but wholesome meal of soup and sandwiches. The kids tucked in hungrily, displaying impeccable manners for once and doing me insanely proud. Dan presided over the table, and the joy at seeing us there radiated from every pore. I was doubly glad that we made the journey.

  After lunch, Peter ordered Dan to go for his hour’s bed rest.

  “Food, and rest, and exercise, and rest, and more food, and more rest,” Dan commented. “That’s what he makes me do, every day, according to a strict schedule, and he never lets off.”

  “It seems to be working miracles,” I observed, winking at Peter. “I quite fancy that kind of holiday myself.”

  Dan loitered at the table like a truculent teenager. “Can’t we make an exception, just today? I haven’t seen Sophie and the kids properly in such a long time…”

  Peter merely raised his eyebrows, and I stifled a giggle. The man was adorable. He was just like a matron out of a carry-on film, and I had no doubt that he was excellent at his job.

  “Tell you what,” I offered to diffuse the situation. “I’m done in. I could do with a rest myself. Why don’t we all have a little lunchtime nap?”

  The kids made to protest, but I spoke over their little voices. “After we’ve had a nap, we’ll do whatever Dan needs to do next… walking, swimming, whatever. And if you both have a nap, you can stay up later after dinner.”

  The caregiver helped out again. “After midday rest, it’s a walk to the beach, and then a quick swim in the pool. And I know some fun games to play in the pool.” He made a meaningful face at my kids, who were putty in his hands.

  “Okay,” Josh agreed. “But where do we sleep?”

  Needless to say, the squeals of joy at their own little bedroom were every bit as loud and exuberant as I had expected, and I doubted much ‘resting’ would be done by my children. Nonetheless, I closed their door and ensconced myself in my own bedroom. Snuggled under the duvet, it didn’t take me half a moment before I fell asleep.

  When I woke an hour later, I discovered that the kids, too, had succumbed to sleep after all. It was thus a rested and sparkly eyed bunch of p
eople that made their way to the beach, wearing hats, gloves and scarves, and wellies. Out the back door we went, through the garden, and onto a sandy path up the dunes, then straight down to the beach. Before long, the kids ran ahead, splashing their be-wellied feet in the surf and giving great whoops of joy. Peter, Dan, and I walked at a more sedate pace.

  Peter took us the length of the beach below the cliff road until we could see no more houses. The wind was blowing in strongly from the sea, and Dan pulled his scarf up high to cover his mouth and nose. “The air tickles me,” he explained in a muffled voice. “I hate coughing. But Peter assures me the salty air heals my lungs.”

  Peter said nothing, but kept walking. I had the feeling that Dan hadn’t proved to be the most accepting of patients.

  After another half hour, just when the kids started showing signs of fatigue, Peter headed up a narrow path into the dunes. “This way takes us back through the village and to the house,” he explained for my benefit. “It’s much shorter this way, and we’ll be home in fifteen minutes or so.”

  Sure enough, before long, the cottage loomed in front of us.

  “What’s next?” I asked both of Dan and Peter, but the kids got in there first. “Swimming, you promised swimming,” they chanted and both Dan and Peter grinned.

  Within half an hour, the kids and I were splashing in the shallow end of the pool while Dan completed his mandatory lengths. Peter produced balls and floats and lilos and showed the kids how to paddle. He had a floating football goal, and the kids and I amused ourselves by trying to score against Peter. Dan joined in as soon as he was done with his exercises, and the little indoor swimming hall filled with shrieks of laughter as dusk fell outside the enormous plate glass windows.

  “Enough, enough, enough,” Dan finally begged, half laughing and half coughing. “I surrender.” He exchanged a look with Peter, who inclined his head ever so slightly toward a door marked ‘sauna.’

  “I must go and sweat for my sins now,” Dan explained when he caught me staring. “Do you want to come?”