Sophie's Encore by Nicky Wells Page A

Accountable to you, and the kids. I promised to be there for you, and I don’t even tell you when I’m going away. I don’t know why that happened, I feel really stupid. That’s why I had to come over and see you tonight. I’ve been feeling bad all week.”
    “You might have rung me in the week, if you were feeling so bad,” I suggested mildly. “A phone call would have been nice. Or an email.”
    Dan’s face fell even further, and my heart swelled up with worry. Something had happened to this man, and I couldn’t work out what it was.
    “I know,” he mumbled, sounding contrite and apologetic. “But I couldn’t get myself to do it. I was worried I would make it worse.”
    I smiled to myself. Men; they were all the same. Totally unable to think through their emotions rationally and make sane decisions. Dan looked at me as though he could read my mind, and he gently ran a finger down the side of my face.
    “Something has changed between us,” he whispered. “And I don’t know what to make of it.” His eyes assumed an intense fervor that I hadn’t seen since he had proposed to me in Paris over eight years ago. This was dangerous territory.
    “I don’t think so,” I said softly, deliberately misunderstanding him. “We’re still friends, right?”
    “We are,” Dan confirmed, but wouldn’t let go of his train of thought. “But I feel different, suddenly. I feel… I feel like the balance has changed. I feel responsible for you. I want to look after you, I—”
    “But you are ,” I interrupted, now seriously fearful of where this conversation was going. “You’ve been looking after me for years. And the kids, too.”
    “I know,” Dan conceded. “But somehow, things are different now. I…I missed you in Seattle.” He laughed uncertainly. “That doesn’t sound right. I always miss you when I go away, you know, recording or on tour, but I missed you different this time. I can’t really explain it. It’s all so…”
    The phone rang and interrupted his ruminations. I jumped up and answered it before the loud trilling woke the kids. It was Rachel again. She wanted to tell me that Henry definitely didn’t have a temperature and they were all going to sleep now, and did I think that was okay?
    By the time I had reassured her and finished the call, Dan had sunk down lower on my sofa and was fast asleep. The flash drive that had brought him here had slipped from his grasp and lay abandoned on the floor. I picked it up and stuffed it in my handbag in the hallway. If the kids found it lying around in the morning, it would be drawn on, stomped on, and otherwise destroyed.
    Back in the lounge, I contemplated my sleeping rock legend for a few moments. He was deeply asleep; so much so that I couldn’t rouse him to move him up into the guest bed. The sofa would have to do for tonight. I raided the guest room for duvets and pillows to make Dan more comfortable. As gently as I could, I eased the pillows under his head and the shoes off his feet. Feeling like a regular Florence Nightingale, I spread the duvet over his prone body and tucked the sides in around him so he wouldn’t be cold. On an impulse, I planted a light kiss on his forehead and was perturbed to find it cold and clammy. Dan was definitely not well, but at least he was resting. I tiptoed out of the lounge, switching off the lights as I went.

Chapter Eighteen
    Needless to say, I didn’t have a very good night. Unspoken words and assumptions floated around my head, mingling in my dreams with a sick Henry and a distraught Rachel. A ghostly looking Dan kept coming and going, alternately drinking beer with Steve in the back garden and whisking the kids away to perform with him on tour.
    When I got up and dressed at seven, my pale and hollow-eyed appearance matched both the Dan of my restless dreams and the Dan of the night before. The house was perfectly quiet, and nobody else was up. Even my early riser, Josh, had started sleeping later on