by Nicky Wells
“This is so totally awesome!” Josh enthused. “Dan, can we go on that ride over there with the waterfall? And that one over there, the space dome thing?”
Dan laughed and nodded. “Of course! We’ll try and do a little of everything while we’re here. But let’s get to the hotel first. I think your mummy would like to freshen up.”
“I certainly would,” I agreed. Whilst I was happy and exhilarated to be there, in this divine place, with my kids and Dan, I was feeling gritty and grimy after a very late night and an extremely early start. A hot shower and a nice cup of tea would work miracles in restoring myself to a more normal me.
“Oh man, do we have to?”
The impatience of a five-year-old was hard to ignore, and I smiled at him reassuringly.
“I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise. And maybe, just maybe, you guys might want to have a little splash in the bath, too.”
“Never.” Josh was adamant in his refusal.
Dan ruffled his hair. “Not so hasty, young man. Never turn down an opportunity until you have actually evaluated it properly.”
“What does evaluated mean?” My son pronounced the unfamiliar word carefully.
“It means, take a look and see what’s offered before you say ‘no’,” I enlightened him. Right at that moment, the driver pulled up in front of our hotel, and we all piled out of the limo.
Predictably, the children squealed in delight at the massive fountain-cum-exotic-fish-basin in the hotel’s lobby, and even Dan looked impressed with the grandeur of the real, exotic plants trailing the central columns and providing an uncanny sense of being in the jungle even whilst we were walking toward the reception desk.
“This sure is some place,” he muttered as he hooked his arm through mine. “I’m not entirely certain that three days will be nearly enough.”
We checked in and were taken to our suite on the second floor—no high-rise buildings here—which boasted spectacular views over the whole park. Despite my desperate hurry to jump in the shower, I couldn’t resist a little sit down on the balcony, and Dan joined me, proffering a glass of champagne.
“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” I raised a token objection even while I accepted the glass.
“It’s after lunch in the UK. Does that make it better?”
Dan had an answer at the ready and I clinked my glass to his.
“Maybe. Oh heck, definitely. Cheers.”
We smiled at each other and had a sip. I let my eyes wander, taking in the varied scenery and the many attractions.
“I do believe I spot the Eiffel Tower,” I mused in surprise, having set eyes on a structure that looked very much like the iconic landmark all the way back in Paris.
“I do believe you’re right,” Dan agreed, not sounding in the least surprised. “I think they have a little replica of some of the major European sights here.” He held up a brochure. “Look—it’s like a little bit of Europe.”
I snorted but said nothing for a while. A little bit of Europe, indeed. Yet I felt an irresistible urge to go near this replica Eiffel Tower. It was like fate was calling to me. I simply had to go.
“Dan?”
Dan looked at me with his liquid eyes. “Yes?”
“I know it’s a bit naff and silly, but…I feel weird.” I laughed uncertainly. “Do you think…would you mind if we checked it out? The Eiffel Tower, I mean?”
“Not silly at all,” Dan contradicted me. “And why not indeed? If we’d like to, who’s to stop us?”
And so I jumped in the shower, making great haste in my impatience to get going. The kids, meanwhile, were merrily splashing in the bathtub, as I had known they would—especially when it turned out that it was an Olympic-size tub with a little slide going into it.
It was after lunch by the time a fresh-faced Jones family assembled in the hotel lobby with an equally freshly scrubbed Dan Hunter, and we decided that a meal would be a good idea.
“Why don’t we check out what the European quarter has to offer, thereby killing two birds with one stone?” Dan suggested casually. Too casually, I thought, but I didn’t pay much attention. My eyes were trained on a necklace he wore. A necklace he hadn’t worn in a long time, a necklace I hadn’t seen in a long time, one with half a ring on it. The other half of that same ring—Dan’s erstwhile engagement ring for me—nestled in my trouser pocket.
How it came to be with me was a bit of a miracle, actually. I had found—rediscovered—the necklace whilst dusting a little while ago. It had fallen into my hands like a good omen, and I hadn’t been able to put it back into the box under the bed. Instead, I had kept it on my bedside table and when I packed for our holiday, I had swept it into my bag. What I had planned to do with it, I didn’t know.
Of course, I didn’t go on holiday to my parents’ house with the kids. We all came on tour with Dan, and the necklace had been calling to me ever since. As though directed by fate, I had meant to put it on earlier, but Emily had distracted me, and I had hastily stuffed the necklace in my jeans pocket. The fact that Dan wore his took my breath away. The implications were so powerful that I felt dizzy, but the spell was broken when my daughter’s voice permeated my consciousness.
“Me not want to kill bird,” Emily objected, looking tearful.
I snapped back into reality and hugged her. “It’s just a saying,” I explained. “Dan knows that I’d really like to see that amazing tower out there, and we need some lunch, so he thought we might combine the two by having lunch near the tower.” I had to stop for breath after this long-winded dissection of our plans.
Josh jumped in right-away. “What tower?”
Dan took his hand. “Come on, young man, let me show you.” He led the way out of the lobby and invited us into one of the little electric cars that people used to expedite their progress across the park. I hung back and retrieved the necklace from my pocket. I was driven by a weird compulsion, I simply couldn’t stop myself, I knew, I just knew, this was right, and so I fastened it around my neck with trembling fingers. There.
“Your carriage awaits,” Dan grinned, checking to see if I got his meaning. Of course I got it. Memories of the years gone by were coming back thick and fast, jostling for attention, consuming my mind, and I felt oddly out of touch with reality. Dan’s eyes caught the glint of the ring on my necklace and his face lit up. He looked at me with eyes so full of emotion that I wanted to lean over and kiss him, but abruptly he broke our connection and started the car instead.
Dan chauffeured us himself, following a map he had obtained from the concierge, and within a few minutes we arrived in France. The replica tower loomed tall and gleaming into the blue sky, and there was a little boulevard of French-style restaurants leading up to it.
“Take your pick,” Dan invited, and the kids ran toward the bistro.
“That’ll have to do,” I grinned.
Dan grinned back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
We sat outside, under a little green umbrella shading a cast-iron table and chairs that looked like they had been plucked straight from the streets of Paris. The kids clamored for food and we turned our attention to ordering even though a million words needed to be said. Later, I promised myself.
The menu didn’t disappoint, offering an array of authentic dishes, and for a moment, just a tiny moment, I could make myself believe that Dan and I were back in Paris—albeit not quite on our own. Predictably, Dan ordered steak frites, I had the mussels, and the kids both fell hungrily on a croque-monsieur each.
“You okay?” Dan’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. He looked me straight in the eye, and his question was loaded with meaning.
I shook my head to clear the weird sensation. “This is totally surreal,” I whispered. “It’s like we’ve been here before, and I suppose that’s the intended effect, but…I don’t know, it’s like I’m standing next to myself.”
“I know what you mean,” Dan replied. “I suppose it is the intended effect.” He looked away
for a moment but his hand lightly touched the ring on his necklace. He was telling me something. It was almost as if he were asking me something. My spine tingled. Was I ready for what I knew was about to come? Was I ready to let go and start again? With this man?
I supposed I was. I had been preparing to move on for months, had had innumerable late-night talks in my head with Steve, had cried and apologized and reasoned, and had somehow felt his response in my heart. Make yourself happy. Make the kids happy. It would be three years since his death soon. Not a terribly long time, but an eternity for the Jones family. Could I deny the children—or myself—the chance of becoming a real family if it were offered? Could I refuse another shot at love?
“Are you ready?” My rock star took my hand and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Gosh, you startled me,” I burst out. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
“I could see that,” Dan said softly. “You okay?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“You ready to move on?”
Oh my God, was he reading my mind?
I stared at him blankly, and he gestured at the children who were half-hovering over their chairs, evidently itching to explore the park.
“I think the kids want to get going,” Dan supplied right on cue, and I let out an explosive laugh. Silly me.
“Of course, let’s get going,” I replied, snapping back into dutiful mummy-mode and grabbing my handbag. “What shall we do next?”
“Mummy! Mummy-mummy-mummy!” Emily’s excited voice rang clearly through the thronged street. She had run ahead, leaving the bistro area and zooming up and down the boulevard like a carefree butterfly, and she had evidently seen something she wanted to do.
“Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”
“Mummy, me want to go on the round thing. With horsies!” Emily took my hand and tugged.
“The round thing with the horses?”
“Yes, yes, yes, the merry-go-round,” Josh shouted. “Me too, me too, me too.”
A merry-go-round. In the French quarter, right here in Florida.
I knew what it would look like before I could even see it, and I felt dizzy. Dan took my elbow and gently propelled me in the right direction. The touch of his skin against mine was warm and comforting, but it gave me goosebumps all the same. I shivered. Dan’s voice seemed to come from a long, long way away.
“Why don’t we all go on?” he suggested. “Look, you guys, you’re a little small for the horses, why don’t you sit in that carriage first, and maybe later we’ll figure out a way to get you riding a horse each?”
It was a merry-go-round by the Eiffel Tower. Just like the one in Paris, eight years ago, if a little smaller. It even played the same music.
The ground shifted beneath my feet and I stumbled. Dan caught me and cast a worried look.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head and held on tighter to his arms. Meanwhile, we had caught up with Emily and Josh who were doing an excited little dance in front of the momentarily still ride.
“You can take the children on a horse if you sit with one each.” The deep voice of the carousel operator sliced through my thoughts, and I tried to summon a response. These were my children. I had to say something, do something, do right by them. I opened my mouth, but Dan spoke first.
“D’you know,” he said, using a confidential tone that had the operator take a step closer to hear. “D’you know, I think we might do that the second time ‘round, if that’s at all okay. I’d like to claim this first ride for me and the children’s mother. Perhaps the children can ride with us in the carriage drawn by that horse?”
He pointed to a golden steed he evidently had his eyes on, and one that was hitched to a red fairy tale carriage. The operator shrugged and spread his hands wide. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”
“We do,” Dan assured him, and jollied the kids into the carriage, whispering to them all the while.
Then he turned to me. “Milady?” He bowed and offered his arm again. I laughed and took it, already surrendering to the inevitability of what was to come.
Dan helped me up the steps onto the merry-go-round and onto our horse, settling himself snugly behind me with his arms around my waist. I crossed my arms in front of my chest so I could put my hands on his forearms, holding him just below the elbow, completing the circle of embrace. Dozens of children, some with adults and some without, occupied the other horses, and the whole place was heaving, yet we were alone.
“You ready?” Dan asked for the third time in ten minutes, and this time, I answered.
“As ready as I ever will be.”
Dan tightened his hold on me in response and laid his chin on my shoulder, nuzzling his face lightly into my hair.
The carousel started moving, and all the children erupted into noisy cheers. I could hear Josh and Emily behind us whooping with joy as ‘round and ‘round we went. I closed my eyes and let the wind ruffle my hair, enjoying the moment, taking deep breaths, waiting, waiting for Dan to speak. Finally, his voice whispered in my ear.
“Sophie Jones, will you, at long last, marry me?”
I squeezed his arms and turned slightly so he would be able to see me speak. For a moment, I didn’t respond, just smiled and smiled, feeling the joy shine out of my eyes and seeing him respond even before he heard my answer. The moment stretched and swelled and swallowed us whole, the certainty between us almost visible, iridescent in the bright sunlight, our joy heightened by the sounds of people laughing all around us. At length, I spoke.
“Yes, Dan Hunter. Yes, I will marry you.”
Epilogue
Dan and I were married very quietly, and very privately, at the Wandsworth Register Office on the first Saturday after we returned from the States. I wore a blue dress, simple, elegant, and deliberately un-bridey, and Dan donned a suit. Rachel was my witness, and Joe was Dan’s. Emily was my bridesmaid and Josh my pageboy. Mum and Dad came up from Newquay, and Jodie flew in from LA. Joe, Mick, and Darren attended with their families, as did Jack and Richard. Dan begged Jenny to come, and eventually, she relented when we persuaded her that she was practically part of the family. There was no press, no release having been issued.
After the ceremony, we had a small party at our favorite Italian restaurant, which we had hired out for the day, our only concession to making a little fuss for our nuptials. We ate pizza and pasta and seafood aplenty, and we played ‘80’s music and favorite rock songs on the restaurant’s ancient sound system. In the evening, we danced.
The following week, we moved the former Jones family’s possessions into Dan’s house in Clapham. I sold my little house in Barnes and put the proceeds into a trust fund for the children. Over the course of the next few months, Dan became a legal stepfather to the children, and we were a proper family.
Evidently, our marriage didn’t remain a secret forever, but the media frenzy, when it happened, was short-lived, because essentially, we were ‘old news’, and we liked it that way.
Dan continues to be the lead singer of Tuscq, and the band is currently in the throes of making another album. Over the past three years, the kids and I have toured with Tuscq twice, school terms permitting. Since Emily started school properly, I have been officially working as a sound engineer, and I often engineer alongside Richard when Tuscq lays down new songs.
Increasingly, the band gathers in Dan’s studio for rehearsals and demos because I am now able to mix and master independently. This setup works well for us, and the kids have started taking instrument lessons, too. Joe is taking great pleasure in initiating Josh in the skill of drumming, and Emily is learning classical guitar with Darren. Isn’t that weird and wonderful?
So after all this time, I have become the rock star’s wife. It is, and it isn’t, how I planned my life, but I’m ludicrously happy.
Right now, I have to rush off to a doctor’s appointment. I’m thirty-nine, and I didn’t really ex
pect to do this whole pregnancy thing again, but I’m kind of looking forward to it now that it has happened. I just want to make sure that everything’s okay before I break the news to Dan. I’ll probably tell him tonight. Or maybe I’ll drop around to the studio as soon as I’m done at the doctor’s.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face.
Acknowledgements
As always, a great many Thank You’s are in order to honor the many people who contributed to the writing of this book. I couldn’t have done it without you.
Wonderful husband—Jon. Thank you for absolutely everything!
Fabulous publishers—A massive thanks to Amy Lichtenhan and Katie Henson of Sapphire Star Publishing for your patient guidance along my publication road and for dealing with my many queries and questions, and to Devyn Jensen for fabulous admin support. A special thanks to my editor, Nancy S. Thompson, for her great feedback and constructive comments!
Rocking supporters of my work and my promotional campaigns—A big thank you to THE HUSH Rock Band, iconic rock photographer Nick Elliott, radio host extraordinaire Alex Lewczuk, and everyone at Siren 107.3 FM.
Tireless and patient advisors on all things to do with the music industry, especially sound recording and touring—A huge thank you to Jane Risdon for all her wonderful anecdotes and her time, and also to her friend, Barry John Bayliss of Gospel Oak Studio, Warwickshire. Cameron Tilbury, CEO of MapleStar Music & Media, has been a constant source of support and advice, going well above and beyond! A special thanks to Alex Lewczuk again for test-reading relevant sections…and the whole thing! Any remaining mistakes or errors are entirely my own.
Fabulous Beta-readers and writing buddies—Enormous thanks to Sue Fortin, Deborah Smith and Katie Mettner. You know how much your input means!
Outstanding friends and supporters during the writing of this novel—I cannot thank you enough for all you do, and you all absolutely rock! Big hugs to Anneli Purchase, Evelyn Chong, Katz Group, Heidi Bartlett, Inga Kupp-Silberg, JB Johnson, Jean Fullerton, Kat Verrier, Kim Nash, Les Moriarty, Linn B. Halton, Mandy Baggot, Melanie Robertson-King, Nova Reylin, Rea Sinfield, Samantha Stroh Bailey, Sharon Goodwin, Sheryl Browne, and Tobi Helton.