Sophie's Encore by Nicky Wells Page B

weekends.
    I padded downstairs to check on the rock god ensconced in my lounge. He, too, was sleeping peacefully. He had curled up onto his side and tucked his entwined hands under his face. The smudges under his eyes had improved. He looked relaxed, and there was some color in his cheeks.
    How long I had stood there, looking at Dan and thinking about nothing in particular, I couldn’t say, but I snapped to when I felt a gentle tugging at my hand. Josh had joined me in the lounge, still in pajamas, of course, and his little face was wreathed in adoration for Dan.
    “Why is Dan sleeping on the sofa?” he whispered as softly as he could manage.
    “Because he got here very late and was very tired and he simply fell asleep where he sat,” I whispered back, giving Josh a conspiratorial smile. “He’s still wearing his clothes, look!” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was making such a big deal out of this to my four-year old son who wouldn’t care either way, but Josh peered under the duvet when I carefully lifted a corner to show Dan’s be-trousered legs.
    “Awesome,” he enthused. “He’s like a cowboy, sleeping in his leather trousers.”
    “Shall we let him sleep a bit longer and make some breakfast?” I suggested, and Josh nodded eagerly.
    We raided the fridge and prepared an improvised luxury breakfast of homemade waffles, bacon, and fresh fruit. Emily joined us half-way through and took great pleasure in scooping gloopy waffle mixture onto the waffle maker, closing the lid, and watching it rise gently as the baking waffles expanded in size.
    Amazingly, Dan slept right through the increasing noise levels emanating from the kitchen, and he was still slumbering when we were ready to eat. I ventured into the lounge and considered options. He had fallen asleep by eleven p.m., and it was now nine the following morning. Early, by rock star standards, but ten hours qualified as a good night, even in my book.
    Josh had crept up on me again. “Why don’t we have a breakfast picnic here in the lounge and Dan can have breakfast in bed on the sofa,” he suggested, bright-eyed.
    I knelt down to speak with him, a let-down formulated on my lips, but I changed my mind. Why not indeed? What could be nicer than to be woken up by a bunch of smiling people, a huge pile of waffles, and fresh coffee?
    “Excellent idea, my gorgeous.” I high-fived my darling son and we crept out of the lounge again to get organized.
    The kids were brilliant, caught up in their little ploy to surprise Dan. Emily carried plates back and forth, one at a time, doing a kind of stealth-tiptoe each way and setting down her cargo very carefully on the coffee table. Josh took care of the cutlery and the fruit bowl, and I brought up the rear with the hot food and drinks. The kids and I sat on cushions on the floor around our laden table, and we looked at each other with big smiles. Mission accomplished!
    The quiet bustle of activity in his immediate vicinity had permeated Dan’s consciousness, and he opened his eyes with perfect timing, catching sight of the waffles first, then me, then the kids. He grinned widely, stretched his arms, and sat up.
    “What’s all this?”
    “Mummy said you were very tired, and so we thought we’d make you breakfast on the sofa,” Josh burst out, unable to contain his energy or joy at the successful surprise.
    “Wow, thank you,” Dan issued after a big yawn. He rubbed his eyes and tried to smooth his hair. My stomach lurched at the memory of many a breakfast-in-bed shared by the lovely Dan Hunter and me, Sophie Penhalligan, as I had been back then.
    Our eyes locked for a second, and a flash of understanding passed between us. The moment was so fleeting I might have imagined it, but I didn’t think so. Yet the kids’ noisy clambering for food distracted me from that train of thought, and I let it go.
    After a hearty breakfast and a long, hot shower, Dan returned downstairs looking like himself. I breathed a secret