Sophie's Encore (25 page)

“Mrs. Jones,” he greeted me amiably.

“Dr. Smith,” I responded. “I…I know it’s late, but I was hoping to see Dan. If that’s okay. Only…” I shrugged and fiddled with my hair. “I left a bit suddenly earlier and…well…I wanted to apologize for something.”

Dr. Smith smiled kindly. “I should think Mr. Hunter will be very glad to see you. He’s been a little agitated all afternoon. By the way…” He hesitated for a moment before imparting a critical piece of information. “I might as well tell you, Mr. Hunter will be discharged tomorrow.”

I opened my mouth to express my joy, but was cut short by Dr. Smith raising his hand.

“Don’t get too excited. He’s not recovered, not even nearly. His manager has arranged for a private cottage in Devon with a live-in respiratory nurse to look after Mr. Hunter while he convalesces.”

My face must have been a question mark because Dr. Smith elaborated. “The cottage is within half an hour’s drive of a private hospital, I recommended it myself.” He gave me another look and hesitated for a second before volunteering yet more information. “I recommended the respiratory nurse, too. Peter is highly qualified and very experienced.” Dr. Smith placed particular emphasis on the care-giver’s name, then shifted on his feet as if he was worried about over-stepping a boundary. “Just in case you were wondering.”

“Ah. Right. Good,” I muttered, trying to wrap my head around all this information. “I’m just surprised at the speed of events, that’s all.” Truth be told, I felt completely out of the loop, but yet again Dr. Smith stepped in to reassure me.

“This was all arranged quite quickly this afternoon after I agreed that Mr. Hunter would be well enough to leave the hospital providing he had sufficient care
and
he would rest for at least four weeks.”

“Right, right.” Nodding maniacally, I plastered a smile on my face. “That sounds…good. If he’s well enough to leave, that’s good. Right?”

Dr. Smith took my hand. “It is good. And he will be well looked after. He’ll be allowed visitors, of course. Just no work. And certainly no singing.”

“Thank you for everything.” I pumped the doctor’s hand up and down. “I guess I probably won’t see you again.”

“Not unless you come in with pneumonia yourself sometime, which I rather you didn’t,” he joked and let go of my hand.

“I won’t,” I promised and realized I actually liked this forthright doctor. “Bye.”

“Goodbye,” Dr. Smith echoed. “And off you go to see him. Just don’t stay too long, okay?” With that, he resumed his walk down the corridor, off to the next patient or quite possibly home.

Squaring my shoulders and fixing the smile more firmly onto my face, I approached Dan’s room and knocked gently on the door. Too gently, probably, for there was no response. Very carefully, I depressed the handle and crept into the room, which was dark. My heart sank.

“Sophie?” Dan’s voice came out of the gloom, and with a sudden click, the bedside lamp came on.

I closed the door behind me and smiled even wider. “Dan.” This time it only took me three steps to get to his bed, and he pulled me straight into his arms. Down, down he pulled me until my elbows rested on either side of his head and my upper body half lay on his torso while I balanced on one leg, with the other raised awkwardly in the air.

“I’m so glad you came back,” he mumbled into my hair.

“Me, too,” I mumbled back, fighting the urge to giggle at my rather bizarre contortion. I breathed in a few times then straightened up before I succumbed to a cramp.

“I’m sorry I walked out on you earlier.” My eyes sought Dan’s and bore into them so that he would understand what I was saying, and more. “I wasn’t thinking straight and…well, I shouldn’t have walked out. That was really rude of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Dan reassured me. “I probably deserved it. No, scratch the ‘probably.’ I…” He lowered his eyes for a moment then looked at me again. “Do you want to talk about it? The…stuff?” He couldn’t quite get himself to say the words again.

“I don’t actually, if that’s okay. At least not right now. Maybe some other time. Maybe…maybe I’ll need your help if the kids ever get in trouble.” My words tumbled out hard and fast, and Dan took my hand as though to stem the flood. His eyes softened and his mouth curved into a smile.

“Of course that’s okay. But I just want you to know that I won’t…go there again, ever. And if you want to talk about…what I said earlier, or if you have any questions or if you’re worried, you can ask any time.
Any
time. Do you hear? Anytime.”

“Okay. Thanks. I will.” I returned his smile. There was an awkward silence while we both wore goofy grins on our faces.

Then Dan chuckled. “If you could see your face…”

“If you could see yours!” I retorted with a snort.

“You look like a star-struck teenager all over again,” Dan elaborated.

“You look like a smitten sugar daddy,” I shot back.

“I’m only ten years older than you,” Dan defended himself. “That’s never mattered to you before.”

His last statement was more of a question, and I longed to pour out the answer, but somehow, I couldn’t. I plumped for a weak put-down instead.

“Says who?”

“Says…well, I suppose I could be wrong.” Dan was momentarily perturbed, but rallied quickly. “Nah. You’re pulling my leg. It’s never mattered in the past, and it doesn’t matter now. This is smoke and mirrors. There’s something you’re not telling.”

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.”