A Marriage To Remember. Carole Mortimer

if she could really still do it. And she had. She could!

      That red rose might have shaken her, but Mark was also right when he said she couldn’t let that take any of her earlier triumph away from her. She had another two days of the festival to get through, when, she admitted, there was a possibility of bumping into Adam. But she was at least aware of his presence now, was prepared for it, even if she accepted that facing him again would probably be the hardest thing she would ever have to do in her life.

      But she could do it. She had survived, had got through the initial difficulty of this evening too; she could certainly get through seeing Adam again.

      She squared her shoulders determinedly, giving Mark a bright smile. ‘Let’s order a bottle of champagne to celebrate this evening!’ She stood up, determined to shake off the despondency that had fallen upon them both since they had seen the rose.

      Mark stood up too, grinning, obviously relieved she had decided to rise to the occasion. ‘I thought you would never ask!’

      They were both acting a role. Maggi accepted that, knew that with the worry of Adam’s presence somewhere in the area neither of them particularly felt like celebrating anything. But it was a role both of them were going to play, and, without another glance at the box containing the rose, Maggi telephoned Room Service to order the champagne.

      Thoughts of Adam could come later, when she couldn’t put them off any longer. For the moment she only wanted to think of the success of the evening just gone. And to share that success with Mark.

      ‘The place is packed, Maggi!’ Mark told her excitedly the following evening as she stood waiting to go out on stage.

      She could hear the sound of the audience talking loudly together as they waited for her to make an appearance, knew by the volume of noise that the large civic hall, where she was to perform tonight, must indeed be very full.

      ‘I told you this was what would happen once people heard of your success last night,’ Mark continued happily. ‘You’re on your way back, Maggi!’ He gave her a hug.

      Her way back to where? That was what she was starting to worry about. She had been working hard towards this weekend—a long, uphill struggle that she had finally won. But if it meant she might have to see Adam again...

      That was something that had never even entered her head, not at the beginning, or during those past months of planning. She’d had no reason to suppose he would want to see her again, any more than she wanted to see him. But last night he had sent that red rose...

      And tonight, before she and Mark had left the hotel, there had been another rose, letting her know more forcefully than anything else could have done that Adam knew she was singing again this evening.

      ‘Try to look more cheerful about it,’ Mark reproved her now frowningly. ‘This is what you’ve worked so hard for.’

      He was right; she knew he was. She couldn’t let Adam spoil this for her. As he had spoilt so many things before...

      She had been in trepidation earlier today that Adam might turn up at the hotel looking for her. But the time had passed in relative peace, their food delivered by Room Service, she and Mark only leaving the suite for a couple of hours this afternoon to go and luxuriate in the hotel pool—and she had started to relax.

      But would Adam be out there again tonight? It was logical to assume he probably would be; it was listed in the festival’s weekend programme exactly when and where she would be playing over the three-day period. It was the thought of him standing silently in the audience watching her, when she couldn’t see him—as she still felt sure he had been last night!—that was so unnerving to her. The second single rose that had been delivered to the hotel earlier seemed to be a promise of that, despite Mark’s protestations that she should just forget about it, forget about Adam. He knew better than most how she had tried to do that—he must also know how impossible she had found it to do!

      Mark grasped her firmly by the tops of her arms, forcing her to look up into his boyishly handsome face. ‘Remember, Maggi, don’t get sad, get mad,’ he reminded her. ‘Don’t give Adam the satisfaction of ruining anything else for you.’

      It came as no surprise to her that Mark knew exactly what—who!—was bothering her, they had always been close, but even more so recently, with Mark often seeming to know what she was thinking before she was aware of it herself.

      ‘You’re right.’ She straightened determinedly, a diminutive figure dressed completely in black: flat ankle boots, denims, a silk shirt open at the throat, and her long, almost waist-length hair cascading down her spine. Long silver earrings dangled against her neck, the only jewellery she wore; her slender wrists and hands were completely bare of adornment. She reached up to kiss Mark lightly on the cheek. ‘Time to go on!’ She gave him a brightly reassuring smile.

      The hall was much bigger than the club last night, but as Maggi stepped out onto the stage she could see it was packed with people—people who began to clap and cheer as soon as they saw her. Her nervousness instantly fell away at this spontaneous reception, professionalism taking over, and she smiled confidently at the crowd as she began to play the opening chords to her first song.

      She tried not to search the sea of faces as she performed, dreading and yet looking for that all too familiar face. But there were so many people here tonight, so many positive responses coming her way as she sang song after song, that in the end she had to give up looking. It would serve no useful purpose even if she could locate Adam in the crowd. In fact, it would have the opposite effect!

      She was on for longer tonight, over an hour in all, and it felt like old times as she enjoyed herself as much as the audience obviously did.

      And then the catastrophe happened!

      It wasn’t such an unusual thing. Wasn’t really such a catastrophe. It was just the last thing she would have wanted to happen this evening. A string broke on the guitar she was playing—her favourite guitar. Her spare guitar was out in the room she had waited in earlier before coming on stage.

      She glanced across at Mark where he stood in the wings watching her, acknowledging his nod of understanding before he strode off to get her other guitar, and turned to put her useless instrument back on the stand behind her. She would just have to sing the next song unaccompanied.

      There was a ripple of sympathy amongst the audience as they recognised her dilemma, and they gave her an encouraging round of applause before she began to sing. Her voice was clear, the trueness of the notes reaching every corner of the room, and the silence was appreciative as the hush washed over the hall.

      Then Maggi realised she was no longer singing unaccompanied, and that she recognised the guitar work she could hear only too well.

      She turned sharply to her left, only to have her worst suspicions confirmed as to exactly why the audience had suddenly fallen so silent; Adam had walked onto the stage behind her, and it was his guitar she could now hear accompanying her.

      Maggi hadn’t seen him in such a long time, and as she looked at him now she could see the changes in him. His dark hair was longer than it had been, with flecks of grey amongst its thickness. His eyes were still as dark a grey, but there were lines beneath them; and grooved into his cheeks beside his mouth, a mouth set grimly, as was the arrogant angle of his jaw.

      He was dressed almost exactly the same as Maggi, in black denims and a black silk shirt, the latter unbuttoned from his throat to reveal the growth of dark hair on his chest. This was the way he had always dressed when they’d sung together in the past.

      He looked at Maggi challengingly as her singing faltered at the sight of him beside her, and she knew exactly why he was frowning at her so darkly; ‘the show must go on’ had always been Adam’s attitude. No matter what the circumstances. As Maggi knew to her cost...

      Adam continued to play the melody on his guitar, still looking at her expectantly, his dark gaze compelling her to begin singing again, to give the audience what they had come here for.

      But he was wrong. The audience