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mate-of-honor at my wedding to Steve. When Steve had asked him in private, and without consulting me, whether Dan would like to be godfather to Josh, Dan had been touched and overjoyed, and accepted readily. He became part of the Jones family, and the following two years were the happiest, most perfect period of my life. We had even crept into Dan’s music, somehow. Dan wrote a very emotional ballad about the miracle of new life that shot to number one all over Europe and in the States, and stayed there for weeks. I had quite a collection of personalized songs, even if most people were unaware of it.
    Dan was always there for me. Of course, he still had his other women, his dalliances, although his highly publicized affairs seemed to have petered out of late. He was absent at times, like when he was touring or recording. And naturally, he tried to keep our friendship out of the papers as much as possible. Initially, when he stepped in after Steve’s death and Emily’s birth, when he took Josh to playschool every day for weeks and went shopping for nappies, the press had been all over us. But Dan and his agent had released a statement and refused to answer any further questions, and eventually, the interest in his family-by-proxy let up. Periodically, somebody would snap him in the supermarket with a basket full of groceries or in the park with me and the kids, but by and large, it had become possible for him to do normal things with us without too much disturbance. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how I would have coped without him.
    I nodded off in Dan’s arms and was woken by the insistent buzzing of his mobile phone.
    “Sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He struggled to retrieve the phone from his back pocket and held it up to see who had called. The display read, Jack. The band manager.
    “Shit.” Dan muttered under his breath and listened to his voicemail. I could hear Jack’s agitated voice, although I wasn’t able to make out what he said. Dan sat up and pulled me with him. “Time for bed, methinks. Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
    I let myself be led upstairs like a small child. In my bedroom, Dan plumped the pillows and threw back the duvet. “In you hop, young lady,” he teased, patting the mattress. Instead of obliging, I launched myself into his arms again.
    “What would I do without you?” I sniffled into his shoulder.
    “You would be fine,” Dan assured me, a little gruffly. “Come on, in you hop.”
    “Do you want to stay?” I suggested in a small voice, thinking only of sleep.
    Dan’s face crumpled. “I can’t stay, sweetheart.”
    I opened my mouth to object, to plead, to explain that I didn’t want to be left alone again. I simply couldn’t face it. I was tired of being alone. I wanted company. I needed a friend. I wanted to be held and comforted.
    Dan read the emotion on my face and touched two fingers to my lips before I could speak. “I’ve got to go, Sophie.”
    Swatting away his fingers, I felt a surge of anger and hot despair.
    “Yeah, I bet you’ve got a hot date,” I retorted, even though I knew perfectly well that he didn’t. “You’d better hurry.”
    The light seemed to extinguish in Dan’s eyes. He squared his shoulders and rolled his head. “I’d better go,” he concurred. “I’ll let myself out.”
    He was gone before I could respond, and I heard the front door click shut. Damn .
    I wanted to run after him, but I was too proud, too confused, and too angry with myself. The memory of the look in his eyes was killing me. I couldn’t work out what it meant. I thought I knew my rock star, but there was a shadow of sadness there that I couldn’t explain.
    Crawling under the duvet at last and pulling it high over my head, reeling with emotions for people living and dead, I fell into an uneasy sleep before I could reflect any further.

Chapter Seven
    Damn and double damn. I groaned as I saw the time on my alarm clock. Only five a.m. My head was