Sophie's Encore (33 page)

“I think it sounds fabulous,” I finally confessed. “Roll on tomorrow.”

Part Three:

Finale

Chapter Forty-Nine

“This next song goes out to Sophie and my lovely godchildren, Emily and Josh.”

The crowd roared then hushed as the stage was momentarily clad in darkness. Josh jumped up and down next to me, waving and shouting “Dan, Dan.” I had to hold on to Emily’s jumper lest she climb over the balcony railing.

We were sitting in a cordoned-off area on the mezzanine with the other band members’ partners and their children. My kids were proudly wearing protective earmuffs, Josh’s blue and Emily’s a predictable pink. They were a loan from Joe, whose children had outgrown the need.

A spotlight picked out Dan, and Josh’s cries went up another frenzied pitch, carrying clearly above the muted murmurings of the expectant fans. Dan waved in our direction and blew us a kiss, and the crowd laughed. Dan played to the audience.

“The next generation. Love him to bits,” he grinned, lowering his guitar momentarily. “I should point out that he’s here with his mummy, and he
will
be going to bed soon.”

“
No I won’t,
” Josh yelled back, and the audience erupted in laughter again. I could feel my cheeks flaming in the dark, and Joe’s wife, Ellen, nudged me affectionately.

“They’re lapping it up,” she whispered. “It’s good for them.”

She didn’t elaborate whether she meant the fans or the band, and I didn’t get a chance to ask as Dan started strumming the guitar. I pulled Emily off the railing and gathered her in my arms. Together, we listened to one of my favorite Tuscq ballads, and for some inexplicable reason, I found myself welling up with tears.

Though I had been skeptical until the last minute, it had been a wonderful idea to bring the children. The presence of the other band members’ families had meant we hadn’t stuck out like sore thumbs and also reassured me I wasn’t a bad mother for taking my children to a rock concert. Josh and Emily had been excited beyond belief and absorbed the atmosphere with wide-eyed enjoyment. They would probably treasure this memory all their lives. To begin with, they had been incredulous that the showman on the stage, singing and rocking and projecting an amazing presence, had been
their
Dan. I reckoned he had moved from hero to God-status in their little eyes, and would remain there forever more.

Emily wrapped her arms around my neck. “Mummy sing this song at home,” she informed me and I squeezed her gently.

“I sure do,” I confirmed. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Me like it, too.” My daughter beamed at me, then put her head on my shoulder and plugged in her thumb. Somebody was getting tired. I rocked her in time to the music. The show was nearly over. It was almost ten o’clock, and my baby girl would be in bed within the hour. Very late, but not unreasonable for New Year’s Eve.

At ten to ten, the band invited their fans to join in with a rocking rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” and Dan wished everyone all the best for the coming year. “See you on tour, I promise!” he shouted before launching the band into the final song of the night, Tuscq’s very first number one.

The crowd went wild and everybody danced and sang along at full volume, even the kids and partners in the family area, including my erstwhile sleepy Emily. The night went out on a bang, and, even though the concert had been short, I experienced that familiar, delicious euphoria of having taken part in something really special.

We retreated to the backstage area and waited for Dan to come find us. We didn’t have to wait long, and it made my heart lift with joy to see my rock star back to his usual, glowing, buzzing self. His eyes shone with delight, and every fiber of his being oozed post-show exhilaration, that fantastic, addictive high that made the musicians go back time and time again.

Dan enveloped me in a hug and gave me a smacking kiss on the lips, then scooped the children up, too, and thanked them for coming. Within minutes, he had security whisk us outside and into the waiting limo, and we were home at his house by ten thirty.

Together, we put the children to bed, having had a quick, secret exchange as to whether or not to leave them up until midnight. On balance, they were too far gone to remain upright for another hour and a half, and we decided to end their evening on a high note rather than a tired temper tantrum. Of course, they mounted a protest, but they were rather half-hearted about it and fell asleep while we were still singing their customary bedtime song.

“Imagine that,” I whispered as we shut the children’s bedroom door. “Having a lullaby sung to you by a world-famous rock star. These kids have no idea how lucky they are.”

Dan kissed me on the ear. “It appears their mummy does, though. Know how lucky
they
are, and possibly even how lucky
she
is.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you?” Dan’s eyes brimmed with meaning, and I held him tight.

“I guess I must be.”

The innuendo was flying thick and fast, and I savored the moment. I loved flirting with this rock star of mine, even though we were arguably well beyond the flirting stage. Again.

“But is it my lucky night?”

“It could be,” Dan retorted. “Do you want it to be?”

I feigned nonchalance. “Well, if you’re offering…”

He swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind us. There were fireworks for the New Year at Dan’s house, in more ways than one. And I rather liked them all.

The mood changed drastically over the next few days. According to the calendar, the band was supposed to have left for the States on January second, but a delay in the visa process meant the travel date was pushed back five days. Jack was furious, and Dan was stressed. While the tour itself wouldn’t start until March, the delay impacted recording time that had been booked and also reduced rehearsal time. Dan filled me in on these developments on New Year’s Day, and we had a long chat about how long he would be gone, where he would be going, and how he would stay in touch while the band was Stateside.

“I’ll miss you,” Dan stated over a glass of wine on the evening of New Year’s Day. “It’ll be so hard. Harder than ever. You have no idea…”

“I’ll miss you, too,” I confessed, suppressing tears. “And so will the kids. But that’s how it is, and…” I shrugged, unable to complete the sentence.

“I know.” Dan took my hand. “I know, my love, I know. I remember the talk we had on that plane back from Paris. I’ve been replaying it in my head over and over again, word for word.”

I swallowed.
He remembered?

Dan touched my chin with his finger so I would look him in the eye. “I need you to understand something, Sophie.” His turn to swallow and clear his throat. “Things have changed. I still make music, obviously, but…but you won’t…wouldn’t be second to the music, the tours, the albums. I don’t want to hurt you, or the kids. And there certainly are no other women. I—”

“You recall all that? Every word I said?” I was incredulous.

Dan nodded. “As I said, they’ve been playing on my mind these past few weeks while I’ve been getting ready for this tour. I
have
to go, but…I will be in touch as much as I can, I promise. There will be no funny business with anyone and... And you can see me every day. Look.”

He pulled a gift-wrapped box out from under the sofa and gave it to me.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

I tore at the pretty Christmas wrapping until I got to the box. It was a tablet. I sucked in a breath.

“
Dan!
I thought we weren’t doing big presents for Christmas.”

He chuckled. “It’s not a Christmas present. It’s a staying-in-touch present. Look, it’s got Skype all ready and set up. You can connect wherever you are, the Internet contract’s up and running, and it doesn’t matter where you or the kids are. You can always take my call and see me, or the other way ‘round. Any time of day or night. Except on stage, of course.” He grinned.

“See? I don’t want you to feel alone. I
have
to leave, but I’m taking you with me. Sort of.” He gave a little start and assumed a faraway look, as though he had an idea, but the moment passed and he carried on talking.

“Please, you have to accept this. It’ll be our lifeline and the few months will pass really quickly, and it’ll almost be like we’re all together. I don’t want you to feel like you’re second to my career, not for one single minute. Not anymore.”

I smiled a tentative smile. His vision sounded so lovely, so brilliant, so easy, and it was tempting. At the end of the day, it wasn’t like I had a choice, so I accepted the tablet and we amused ourselves having a play around with it to make sure it worked. And then we played with a few other buttons while we still could.

So instead of getting onto a plane on January second, the band went to ground in a London studio for a two-day marathon work-ahead session, and Dan only came home to grab a few hours’ sleep. At least, that was what he told me. I couldn’t know for sure because the kids and I had returned to our own home with the start of the new school term.

The upside of all this trauma was that Dan was around for Josh’s fifth birthday on January seventh, a Saturday. He actually emerged from the studio for a few hours to be with the birthday boy. Alas, he had given us no warning, so the house was full of children when Dan turned up at our front door, dressed in his customary studio garb of jeans and shirt and carrying two enormous boxes.

Chapter Fifty

“Thank God you were here this afternoon. I couldn’t have done this without you.” I heaved a sigh of relief as I finished emptying the dishwasher for the second time. Dan, meanwhile, had taken down the decorations and hoovered all of downstairs.

He laughed. “Why didn’t you
tell
me? We could have had some professional help.”

“I don’t
need
professional help to run a children’s party, thank you very much. But a second pair of hands came in very handy!”

“I’ll say,” Dan commented. “Can’t remember the last time I played DJ for musical bumps.”

“And a fine job you did, too.” I closed the cupboard door and threw myself at Dan, catching him slightly off guard. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It was fun. I think Josh enjoyed it, as well.”

“Josh
loved
it. He’ll never forget this. You are quite the star.”

I was still holding on to Dan, reluctant to let go, aware that I was being clingy.

“Do you think the children understood I’m going to be out of the picture for a while?” Dan mused. “I hope they do.”

“They do. They will. As soon as we’ve had our first Skype call, all will be well. Trust me.”

Dan had sat down with Josh and Emily before bedtime and explained about being away for some time. He had shown them the tablet and made the mistake of opening the games folder, after which the kids got so engrossed in Mario’s adventures they didn’t give Dan’s impending departure another thought.

“And you will be all right? Will you cope?” Dan gave me a probing, knowing look.

I smiled my brightest smile. “Of course I will. I’ll…”
Dare I say it again?
“I’ll really miss you, though.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’ll miss you, too. You know that.”

There wasn’t really any good place to go from there, and we regarded each other in uncomfortable silence for a minute.

“God, I hate goodbyes,” I finally burst out. “I never know what to say.”

“I hate having to leave you right now,” Dan confessed. “I wish there was more time but…”

“You have to pack and rest, and your flight is at seven a.m., I know. There’s nothing for it.”

“I could…I can always catch up on sleep on the plane?” Dan suggested with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“You could, but you won’t. Why start an exhausting trip already exhausted?”

“You sound like my mother.” Dan belly laughed.

“I couldn’t possibly comment on that, never having met your mother, but I’m sure I sound like
a
mother. It’s amazing how kids alter your take on life.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dan concurred. “It’s just that I can’t get enough of you.”

“And me of you either.” We launched ourselves at each other by unspoken consent and clung to each other like there was no tomorrow. I could feel my resolve crumble. His strong arms, the scent of his skin, his breath against my face… Maybe…just perhaps…

“I’d better go then, before I forget myself.” Dan’s voice was hoarse and low. While his face looked composed, his clenched fists gave away his inner turmoil as he broke off our embrace.

I, too, took a step back, increasing the distance between us. The front of my body, deprived of Dan’s heat, felt curiously cold and numb.

“Four months,” I mumbled, suddenly overwhelmed by the length of separation.

“Three-and-a-half months only, and they’ll go really quickly.” Dan tried to put a positive spin on things but failed miserably.

“We’ll have the tablet, and Skype,” I rallied.

“And Facebook and email and texts and…”

“It’ll be like we’re not apart at all,” we chorused together, but we didn’t fool each other.

Dan hugged me again, briefly. “Bye, Sophie love,” he murmured into my hair.

“Bye, Dan,” I whispered in return, just barely preventing my voice from breaking.

We did a clumsy hip-joined sidestep to the front door and suddenly, I was desperate for him to go. I simply couldn’t go on with this goodbye-ing malarkey any longer, or I would break down and cry. I fumbled with the door and opened it abruptly, my eyes brimming. Dan touched his thumb to my cheek and kissed my nose.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised. “From the airport. Before we board. Make sure you’ve got your phone on.”

“I will.” Somehow, this promise sounded tangible and made the impending four months seem less scary. We would speak tomorrow, after all. I would hear his voice.

Dan turned and walked down my front path, waving ever so often without looking back. It was dark outside, and his silhouette became indistinct in the obscure orange streetlight before he even reached his car. Tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision even more. I snorted, half-laughing at myself, and waved after Dan’s car until it turned the corner of my street.