Moon Song by Elen Sentier Page B

wife had told him about that morning. They walked in silence; somehow there was no need to talk.
    Isoldé helped him through the signing, making sure the queue was orderly, that he had water to drink and nobody overstayed their welcome. There seemed to be an inordinate number of people wanting his CDs, and wanting them signed. Exeter was a provincial town, he could hardly believe there were that many people who knew his music, and wanted it.
    ‘Jamie’s had a piece about you on the YouTube page since a few weeks back, advertising the concert and the signing, then a follow-up a few days ago. Radio 3 picked it up too, gave it a mention last week in up-coming events so there’s a lot of out-oftowners here, people from all over I think, who’ve come for the day, maybe for last night too.’
    Isoldé called a halt at four-thirty, giving him time to get backfor his tea with the students. Every single member of the staff had bought a copy of his latest CD and one or two had brought previous ones for him to sign as well. Darshan had four copies, presents he told Mark, laughing.
    Mark got back to the precentor’s to be ogled and idolised and pelted with questions. He managed to arrive just after five, by which time all the food was gone, for which he was thankful, but he accepted a cup of tea from Margaret Appleforth. The students were fun, asking intelligent questions but also treating him like an elder brother even though he was twenty years older than most of them. He was giving a master class the next day and these young people would all be there.
    They left about six-thirty, giving him time to shower and change before collecting Isoldé.
    Mark arrived at the bookshop just after seven-thirty. Darshan was still there and invited him in, calling Isoldé on the house phone to say Mark had arrived. The two men chatted about the shop, music and sci-fi. Mark’s reading included fantasy but most of what he liked was from way back in the eighties. Darshan steered him over to the shelf with the “Z’s”.
    ‘We’ve got a complete collection of Roger Zelazny, some of it second hand, but I always try to have his work in the shop. It still sells regularly, and we’re about the only place in the country where you can buy it direct. The internet’s made such a difference to second hand book sales.’
    Isoldé came down the stairs. She had dressed up for the evening in a short, clinging black silk frock and high heels. Darshan handed her into her cape.
    Mark felt himself about to gasp and held it back, managed an ordinary-seeming smile.
    ‘You look lovely,’ he told her.
    Darshan tactfully ducked out of dinner.
    ‘Three’s a crowd.’ He winked at Isoldé as he gave her thecompany credit card. ‘Do yourselves proud,’ he told her. ‘Why not the Thai down in the Close?’
    He could see there was a thing going between Isoldé and Mark, hustled them out the door then went back to his own flat where he stood making coffee and telling himself he was a fool. The cats purred agreement.
    Isoldé steered Mark across the square to the little Thai place. They were given a quiet corner in the small, packed restaurant and allowed to amble their way through a long dinner.
    ‘Did you mind horribly?’ Isoldé broached the signing. She could tell it had been more difficult for Mark than he had said.
    ‘No …Not really.’
    ‘Mmm?’ She looked at him from under her brows. ‘I’m not sure I believe that. It seemed a bit painful from where I stood.’
    ‘I’ve done it before …’ Mark began.
    ‘But not in Exeter?’ Isoldé queried.
    ‘No.’ Mark paused, put another slice of mango into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. It is being here that’s different. Everyone seems to feel as if they know me.’
    ‘Long lost brother?’ Isoldé chuckled. ‘And they all want a piece of you?
    ‘Yes, that too.’ He grimaced. ‘Prodigal son more like than long lost brother, but let’s not go there. I don’t want to spoil