Page 23 of Before You Say Goodbye

“Well, if you would get a mobile phone like a normal human being, then you could refuse or accept her force-feeding parties yourself. Autumn, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Marley reached out to shake her hand.

“Bluebell tells me you’re all up to date on the shitshow that is our lives.”

She didn’t know what to say. She nodded earnestly.

“It’s going to be a real adventure,” he said, blinking steadily at her. Although he was smiling, she thought she felt his fingers tremble a little as he spoke. In that moment, Autumn realised she hadn’t properly thought as to how Bowie’s terminal diagnosis would impact his family, but she saw all she needed to know there in that moment, reflected in Marley’s eyes. It was a depiction of fear like she had never seen.

Marley nodded and let her hand fall, turning back to his brother, who was still lying motionless on her sofa.

“Mate, seriously, move!”

* * *

Autumn went by taxi with the brothers to a side of the city she had not yet visited. The bigger the houses became, the more apprehensive she felt.

When the elevator opened into the hallway of the penthouse apartment Bluebell, Bowie and Marley were currently sharing with their visiting family, a middle-aged blonde woman was posing comically in the doorway in an obvious attempt to make them laugh. It worked.

“My boys, my boys, my boys!” They stepped forward, arms outstretched, and she stood on her tiptoes to rest her chin wheretheir shoulders met. They wrapped their arms around her and each other, creating a circle of love that made Autumn smile. Their mother closed her eyes, as though she was really drinking them in. Autumn wondered how long it had been since they’d seen each other.

“Oh! Now, who have we here?” She gently nudged her sons aside. She looked exactly like the type of woman who would name her children Bowie, Marley and Bluebell. She was wearing a baggy, burnt-orange jumpsuit, large hooped earrings, and had a leopard-print scarf braided through her wavy, shoulder-length hair. Autumn had seen Bluebell wearing the same scarf in exactly the same way.

“Mum, this is Autumn,” Bowie said.

She took Autumn’s hand in hers. She had given her children the deep, dangerous blue of her eyes. There was a playfulness to the way her gaze danced over Autumn, as though she was looking for ways to cause mischief. Autumn was unalarmed. Bowie, Marley and Bluebell had all admired her with the same unabashed gaiety more than once. They looked very much like their mother and Autumn could see their confidence reflected in her demeanour.

“I’m Emma,” she said, expertly turning their handshake into an affectionate handhold. Autumn warmed to her immediately. She was naturally comforting. “What a beautifully unusual name,” Emma added.

“Thank you.”

“You’re a friend of Bluebell’s, am I right?” Emma asked.

“And a friend of mine,” Bowie said pointedly. Emma’s smile turned immediately rigid. Whatever warmth had been there before was suddenly gone. Her eyes searched her sons’ faces and she cleared her throat as though to speak, but Bowie stared meaningfully at his mother. Autumn watched his gaze — hard and sharp— reset his mother’s expression.

Eventually, after what felt like an age, Emma turned without a word and led the way along a marble-tiled corridor and into a large kitchen. She encouraged them to sit at the table, which was piled high with vegetables. There were pans simmering on the hob and the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. She asked them what they’d like to drink, lectured them on their caffeine consumption when they all asked for coffee, then made them a pot nevertheless. Her eyes never strayed from her sons for very long — she touched them tenderly each time she passed them, radiating love as she went. Any awkwardness inspired by Bowie’s revelation about the nature of his relationship with Autumn had apparently dissipated.

“I don’t suppose you know where your little brother is?” She handed Bowie and Marley a mug each, sighing when they shook their heads. “Can you call him?” she asked.

“Nope.” They answered simultaneously.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a grown man and he can stay out all night if he wants to,” Bowie said. Marley nodded in agreement. Autumn wondered if they ever disagreed on anything. Emma sighed.

“Bluebell was out all night as well. I’m not sure why we needed so much space if none of you are going to live here anyway.”

The door swung open and an extremely stylish young woman wandered breezily into the room. Autumn had not been aware there was anyone else in the apartment. Though the young woman looked nothing like Bowie, Marley, Bluebell or Emma, there was a relaxed quality to the way she walked that Autumn realised was a Whittle trait. This must be Maddie, Bluebell’s only sister. She was wearing a floral dress with a dotted headscarf. Autumn had always been impressed by people who could wear clashing patterns with style.

“I live here, Mum.”

“I know you do, my darling.” Emma kissed the back of her hand affectionately. Autumn watched Maddie and her mother with intrigue. They were total opposites. Maddie’s eyes were brown, her hair was dark and her skin was creamy and tanned.

“Golden child,” Bowie muttered. Maddie glared at him playfully.

“Says Bowie, who we moved halfway across the world for. I’m Maddie, by the way. Younger sister.” She held out her hand for Autumn to shake.

“Autumn.”

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