Page 33 of Before You Say Goodbye

She’d asked them not to tell their brother but they had, of course. Later, Bowie told her he was proud of her for caring so deeply, but reminded her Walter had been OK before she’d arrived and would be OK again when she was gone. She knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Walter had come to rely on her for company and now she was leaving him all alone.

She returned to give Walter one last hug the day before her flight, suddenly concerned he might pass away before she saw him again. She promised herself that no matter what happened, she would never forget him.

She never did.

* * *

The Whittle family home was built in ageing grey stone and centred in a garden that wrapped all the way around it. It took a full five minutes to walk from the end of the driveway to the porch. A forest ran along one side of the property. She’d neverseen privilege like it in real life before and it made her a little uncomfortable.

Ben, Emma and Bluebell waited for Autumn at the airport for three hours after their own flight had landed and watched her with an element of pride as her jet-lagged brain tried to absorb the grandeur of her new home from the back seat of their four-wheel drive. Autumn, eager to please, ‘ooh-ed’ and ‘aah-ed’ in the right places. Bluebell, who knew Autumn would feel uncomfortable about the number of times she’d condemned wealthy people out loud, sat silently beside her, restraining a small smirk at the edge of her lips.

As they clambered out of the car, Emma told Autumn that they kept three sheep, Dolly, Nellie and Jessica, as well as four feisty chickens called Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha. The animals had been under the care of a neighbour whilst they’d been away.

“Stupid names,” Emma muttered. “You know, Autumn, I didn’t realise for a long time that the kids named my chickens after TV characters.”

“What did you want us to name them, Mum? Breast? Or Nugget? Or Thigh? Or . . .” Bluebell paused, deep in thought. “I can’t think of a fourth.”

“Thank God.” Emma winced.

“Feet?” Autumn suggested helpfully. “People eat chicken feet, don’t they?”

“Good shout,” Bluebell said. “Or skin, because people eat that.”

“Kiev,” Autumn added.

“Girls,” Ben said warningly.

Autumn and Bluebell giggled.

“I was thinking something more like Lady Featherington or Henny Penny. Henrietta or something like that.”

“Mum, Marley wanted to name one Hennifer Aniston and you were having none of it,” Bluebell said.

“Oh, because that’s stupid.” Emma sighed. She wanted them to think she was irritated, but Autumn could tell she was actually mildly amused.

The house was gothically beautiful. Its tall, wooden front door was rusting at the hinges and its stonework chipped and crumbling, but it was still breathtaking. Exhausted, they took their time climbing the steps up to the door, dragging their luggage behind them.

“Listen to that.” Emma held her hands out to quiet their heavy breathing. Bluebell and Autumn stood still, looking at each other. Autumn held her breath.

“Nature’s silence.” Emma sighed happily. Bluebell rolled her eyes.

Prompted by Emma, Autumn made an effort to take in her new surroundings while they waited for Ben to open the door. It had been months since her ears had been free from the sound of wheels whirring and horns blaring. Here, there was no shouting, no buzz of electricity, no unnatural noise. Autumn let herself breathe in tranquillity. She had never been anywhere like this her whole life. It was far from the town she had grown up in, and even further from New York.

The door opened into a double-height living room, with three large sofas and two squashy armchairs arranged around a television sitting on a coffee table upon an enormous, patterned rug. Off to the left was an open-plan kitchen, and a wide staircase to the right led to a second floor, with a mezzanine level that looked down into the lounge. There were framed photographs on every wall, mostly of the children all together, many of them wearing various costumes. Autumn could not tell the difference between Bowie and Marley when they were young. Emma explained that the family had been appearing inamateur dramatics productions since they’d been old enough to walk. She had many more pictures of them performing and she would show her later, she promised. Bowie and Marley, who had taken a taxi straight home from the airport so that Bowie could rest, groaned in unison from the sofa. Emma laughed, leading Autumn through the living room and into a bedroom on the ground floor. It ran almost the entire length of the house.

“This used to be a dining room but we turned it into a bedroom for the twins because they used to stay up all night laughing together,” Emma said.

Ben laughed. “They still do that now! Looking back, Autumn saw Marley nudge Bowie affectionately, and the twins grinned at each other.

“True,” Emma said. “Anyway, we moved them down here, out of the way, so they don’t disturb anyone.”

The room had soft green walls and wooden floors, white linen, several ornate, expensive-looking lamps, and blankets and cushions that complemented the décor. There were two double beds with matching nightstands, a dressing table, and a desk sitting between two floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out across the garden at the back of the house. Autumn felt as though she was in a hotel. She turned on the spot, trying to take everything in. When she arrived back at her starting position, Marley was standing before her, holding the luggage she’d abandoned in the living room.

“I’m going to bunk in with Pip.” He set Autumn’s cases down in the middle of the floor.

Autumn protested. “You don’t have to do that.”

“As if I want to be in here with you two lovebirds,” he said jokingly.

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