Carole Mortimer - A Marriage To Remember

He knew why. He too recognised those opening chords. And the words as she began to sing. It was a song he hadn’t heard for a long time. A long, long time.

Their song...

CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS in the room. She couldn’t see him. Had no idea where he was. She only knew she could feel him here. Somewhere.

She had felt his presence almost from the moment she had walked out in front of the audience, at first berating herself for her imaginings; it was ridiculous, after all this time, to feel that way. There was no logical reason to believe such a thing. But the feeling had persisted, to such an extent that she was now convinced he was definitely in the room. Listening to her.

It was incredible that she should feel like this. It was the first time she had sung in public for over three years; why would he be here?

But he was. She knew he was, had become more and more convinced of it as she continued to sing. She had looked searchingly through the crowd to see if she could recognise him, but it was difficult to see into the gloom beyond her spotlight. There were just silhouettes of people, with no distinguishing features at all.

She didn’t want to recognise him anyway. What was the point? It was all so long ago now. She was different He was different. Their lives were different.

But he was here...!

Her heart pounded in her chest—loudly, it seemed to her, as she began to play her final song for the evening, strumming the introduction on her guitar before she began to pick out the more recognisable chorus.

She wished the song weren’t in the programme now, wished she had chosen to end with any other song but this one. But it was the song she was known for, the song people remembered her for. And she hadn’t sung it in public for a long, long time.

Their song...

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU were brilliant, Maggi! Absolutely brilliant,’ Mark enthused, his eyes shining. ‘I—’

‘Adam is here.’ She flatly cut across his enthusiastic exuberance, automatically handing him her guitar for him to put it away in the waiting case.

Mark froze in the action, frowning darkly. ‘Adam...?’ he repeated disbelievingly.

‘Can we just get out of here?’ she said agitatedly, pushing back the swathe of long straight hair that had fallen over the slenderness of one shoulder—hair as black as a raven’s wing.

‘But—’

‘Now, Mark!’ Maggi insisted firmly, snapping shut her guitar case before picking it up in preparation for leaving the room she had retreated to after leaving the stage seconds ago.

He still didn’t move, smiling at her sympathetically, well aware of the strain she had been under tonight. ‘I understand how you feel, Maggi.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘But Adam can’t be here—’

‘I’m telling you he is!’ she bit out between gritted teeth, deep blue eyes flashing a warning of just how close to breaking point she was. In fact, if they didn’t get out of this club soon, she was going to scream! Adam was here somewhere—she just knew he was—and he was the last person she wanted to see tonight, of all nights. ‘I know how unlikely it is,’ she acknowledged heavily. ‘How ridiculous it sounds. But, believe me, he is here!’

She’d had trouble believing it herself as she was singing, had thought it was perhaps just her imagination; after all, in the past Adam had always been with her when she sang. In fact, it had seemed strange to her, at the start of this evening, that he wasn’t there. But she had been wrong about that; he had been here, and she had become more and more convinced of that as the minutes passed. She had barely been able to suppress her panic in order to finish her spot on stage, and she desperately wanted to get away now, didn’t want to actually be put in a position where she would have to see him. Knowing he was here was enough...!

Mark frowned again. ‘But listen to that audience, Maggi.’ The applause could still be heard from the adjoining club-room. ‘They want you back on stage.’

The audience, a welcoming audience earlier this evening, were going wild, calling her name, demanding she come back and sing them another song. But she couldn’t do it. Not now she was convinced Adam was out there too.

She shook her head, her small, heart-shaped face as pale as alabaster against the framing blackness of her hair. ‘Maybe tomorrow night, Mark,’ she dismissed huskily. ‘I’ve had enough for one evening.’

It had been a strain for her, going back in front of an audience after all this time, which was why this particular venue, as opposed to a big concert hall, had been chosen in the first place: a music festival in a small town in the north of England, where her name could be lost amongst those of other artists appearing in the three-day event. The venues were informal— clubs, pubs, meeting-rooms—with several concerts taking place at the same time. It was exactly the right sort of place for Maggi to make her first public reappearance.

Or at least it would have been—if she hadn’t been utterly convinced that Adam was out there in the audience. Watching her. The very last person she wanted near her during her first public appearance for three years!

Mark looked at her closely, finally nodding his agreement to their leaving as he recognised the signs of strain around her eyes and mouth. ‘You’ve done well for your first night, Maggi,’ he told her with bright encouragement as they turned to leave. ‘But you’ll do even better tomorrow night—because by then it will be all around the festival that you’re back and greater than ever!’ he said confidently.

She wasn’t too sure about the latter, although she had to concede that the audience had been an appreciative one. She had been very nervous when she’d begun her spot for the evening, but from the onset had felt the audience’s warmth reaching out to her, welcoming her, and that nervousness had almost completely disappeared as they’d clapped and cheered after each song. Yes; this festival had been a good choice as a place for her to resume her career.

If only she didn’t have that nagging, uneasy feeling inside her that told her Adam was near...

Mark covered her own numbed silence on the journey back to their hotel by talking all the time, obviously pleased with the way the evening had gone. He had good reason to be; without his help and constant encouragement this evening would probably never have happened. Mark had been her emotional support over the last few years, always there when she needed a boost to her flagging morale; for his sake alone she was pleased that this appearance seemed to have gone so well.

They had chosen to stay in a big impersonal hotel just outside of town rather than in one of the busier places actually in the centre, where, for all that she had disappeared from the music scene for the last three years, it was likely she would be recognised by people attending the festival. She was nervous enough already, without having to put on a front for people who might want to talk to her.

‘The key to your suite, Miss Fennell?’ The receptionist gave her a bright, welcoming smile before turning to take the key from the hook behind her. ‘Oh, and something arrived for you earlier, but I’m afraid you had already left the hotel when it was delivered...’

Maggi paled as the other woman turned back to hand her a long, cellophane-wrapped box decorated with a red ribbon, already able to guess, from its appearance alone, exactly what it contained. A single red rose...

‘Thank you.’ Mark was the one to almost snatch the box out of the receptionist’s hands, clasping Maggi’s elbow with his other hand as he walked her over to the lift, looking down at her in concern as he did so.

Her eyes were huge in the paleness of her face, deeply blue and haunted. She was expressionless, too shocked to feel anything at this precise moment in time. It hadn’t been her imagination at all that Adam was here. He really was. The rose proved that.