Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Fern stirred as the scent of freshly brewed coffee reached her, coaxing her into wakefulness. She opened one eye, then the other, squinting against the early morning light filtering through the mismatched bedroom curtains.
‘Morning, Sleeping Beauty.’ Daniel smiled, approaching with two coffee cups and a folded newspaper under his arm. ‘Coffee, just for you.’ He handed one of the cups to Fern and placed the newspaper on the bed next to her.
‘Why are you always cheerful in the morning?’
‘Because every day is for living and sales have gone up overnight. More of Matilda’s old treasures have been sold online! No. 17 Curiosity Lane has made seven hundred pounds in sales this week so far.’
‘No way!’
‘I told you, the internet loves weird stuff.’
Fern stretched, inhaling the aroma of coffee. ‘That’s actually impressive.’
‘I’m listing more today. I’ve already posted a couple of videos this morning.
’ He flipped his phone screen towards her, showing her the growing social media engagement.
‘Comments are wild. Listen to this. “This guy belongs on TV!” and “I’d pay good money to watch a full concert of the singing junkman”. ’ He laughed. ‘They love me!’
Fern shook her head, grinning. ‘So it begins. Next, you’ll be hiring a manager, then refusing to get out of bed for less than ten grand. Your ego will be massive.’
‘Fame is a heavy burden,’ Daniel said dramatically, ‘but I’ll bear it.’
Fern rolled her eyes and took another sip of coffee. As she leaned back against the pillows, her gaze fell on the newspaper. The bold front-page headline made her pause.
‘Final Cadence: Composer Nathaniel Loring Retires on a High Note as Ill-health Takes Hold.’
She placed the coffee mug down on the bedside cabinet and picked up the newspaper.
‘That doesn’t sound good, does it?’
‘One of the world’s greats. It’s just been all over the radio. Apparently his health is failing rapidly.’
Fern skimmed the article.
Nathaniel Loring, the legendary composer whose melodies defined a generation, is reportedly living out his final months in seclusion.
The 85-year-old maestro, best known for his timeless composition ‘Echoes of the Past’, remains a towering figure in the world of music.
Sources close to Loring confirm that his health has deteriorated significantly in recent weeks, and he has now finally admitted the need to retire to his countryside estate in Hampshire.
Loring’s impact on the music industry is immeasurable.
Rising to fame in the early 1960s with his debut, he became one of the wealthiest composers in history, his music transcending borders and generations.
Despite his immense success, Loring never married or had children, instead dedicating his life to his craft.
He spent most of his years in Italy, composing masterpieces that cemented his legacy as one of the greats.
In a rare interview a decade ago, Loring stated: ‘Music is the love of my life, the only constant, the only truth.’
As he retires from public life, speculation has grown. Will he release a final composition to mark the end of his extraordinary career? Whether he does or not, his music will endure, forever an echo of the past.
Fern let the paper rest in her lap, exhaling slowly.
Daniel nudged her. ‘Such a big name. A huge part of music history.’
‘I googled him just the other day when I came across his vinyl in the shop.’
‘I don’t remember logging it into the book.’
‘I logged it. I did wonder whether it was an original pressing as it was in such good condition.’
‘I wouldn’t think so. Quite a lot of vinyls are in good nick, as people tend to look after them. Now, what’s the plan for today?’
‘Sell more junk, and I’m going to look into Eliza Valentine. Try and see if there’s still a shop, a contact number.…’ She hesitated. ‘But there’s something else we need to talk about.’
Daniel glanced at her, his expression turning wary. ‘That sounds serious.’
‘I have to go back to London. I only took a week’s annual leave, and I’ve got a huge interview coming up, at one of the biggest gigs this year. The magazine’s arranged backstage passes for the whole team. It’s not something I can miss.’
Daniel took a sip of his coffee. ‘But you’re coming back?’ His voice held an edge of something. Hope? Uncertainty?
She hesitated, then said with a smile, ‘I can work remotely for a while. I’ll be home by the following weekend.’
His reaction was immediate. His eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face.
‘What?’ she asked, baffled. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? I said I’ll be back by the weekend.’
‘No,’ he corrected, his grin widening. ‘You said you’d be “home”.’ Daniel looked insufferably pleased with himself. ‘I knew Puffin Island would get to you.’
She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure if it had been a slip of the tongue or if, somehow, without realising it, she was starting to feel exactly that way.