Page 58 of Before You Say Goodbye

“That isn’t true,” she said. He was pushing this too far. She couldn’t let him say something like that without objecting. Shehad never felt for anyone what she felt for Bowie. She was sure that they would be together whether he was ill or not. Her restlessness was driven only by boredom. If things were different, they would be back in New York, surrounded by the bright lights and excitement of the city she’d made her home, instead of spending their days and nights on a sleepy country estate. Her struggles had nothing at all to do with how she felt about Bowie. She was about to say that, but Marley was shaking his head.

“If he hadn’t been ill, you’d have tired of him by now.”

“I would not!”

“You’d have eaten him for breakfast and moved on to lunch, Autumn.”

“You’re wrong!” She raised her voice. He held his hands up in mock surrender, but didn’t apologise or take back his words. To stop herself from punching him in his self-righteous face, Autumn looked away again, taking her rage out on the butt of her cigarette by stubbing it viciously into the ground.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” he said. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Yes, well, you’re being awfully judgemental for someone who has never held on to a relationship of their own,” she said.

“Maybe that’s how I know—” he shrugged — “because we’re the same.”

She stubbornly shook her head, but she knew he was right. The more they’d got to know each other, the more apparent it had become how similar the two of them really were. Before Bowie, Autumn’s whole life had been about having what Emma called ‘frowned-upon fun’. It filled a hole she seemed to have that other people didn’t. It woke something up in her. When she wasn’t ‘up to no good’, she felt dead. For a while she’d suspected Bluebell slept around for the same reason, but they’d talked about it and it wasn’t the case ? she just liked it. Butwith Marley, it was. They had never talked about it, but there was something missing within him, too. Bowie, who was never judgemental, had admitted that he couldn’t understand them. She had so much in common with her lover intellectually and they were crazy about each other, but he would never know how it felt to be frenzied for the power that came with holding someone’s heart in the palm of your hand and knowing you would crush it later. He didn’t desire it the way Marley did. The way Autumn had, before Bowie. She wasn’t even sure that Bowie knew the extent of how empty she had been before she’d met him. How empty she was starting to feel once again. But Marley could see it and she was desperately worried that he would think it was because she didn’t love his brother, which wasn’t true, it was just that the hole was still there and there was no way to fill it when you were living in Hertfordshire with a terminally ill boyfriend. What was wrong with her?

Marley gave her time to calm down before speaking again.

“You know what’s funny about this? Bluebell sent you backstage at my gig that night to meet me. She knew she was going to end up with Adam and she thought I might take you to the after-party. That we might have sex, I suppose, though she’ll never admit it. She would never have chosen to set you up with Bowie because I don’t think she thought you could give him what he wanted. I don’t think you thought it, either. But it worked itself out. You and I would’ve fucked the way we do — the way I do and you did — and then frightened each other away, and Bowie would still be miserable. You’re the only reason he’s still here. I know that. He’d have given up weeks ago if it wasn’t for you. Despite everything he’s going through, he’s having the time of his life. He loves you so much. I know now that you can’t save him, but it was still the best thing that ever happened to any of us, Bowie finding you. You’ve given us all more time. And if you weren’t who you are, Autumn, someone who has neverbeen worried about owning a lover for ever, then you wouldn’t be able to cope with any of this. You’d have run away as soon as you found out Bowie came without a lifetime guarantee. You’ve temporarily become someone else because you do love him and because he needs you, I know that, but you don’t have to be ashamed to admit that you’re someone who struggles with this type of monotony. Not to me. I won’t think you love Bowie any less. You’re an excellent girlfriend, for the record, though I know it doesn’t come naturally to you. You’re better at some things than you know. And it’s fine to feel a little lost, especially when you’re being forced to live a life you wouldn’t choose. I feel it, too.”

Marley finished his cigarette and immediately took two more from the pack. He lit one and held it out for her. She eyeballed him as she took it.

“I wouldn’t have fucked you,” she said. “You’re not my type.”

He guffawed and she smiled, then they returned to watching the rain.

“What are we going to do about the chicken?” she asked.

“When they die we leave them in the forest for the foxes,” he said. Autumn recoiled. “Hear me out. It means the foxes get a meal without having to hunt for another living creature. Some poor soul gets to live another day. She’s dead. She doesn’t need her body anymore.”

Autumn relaxed a little bit. That actually made sense to her.

“I’m glad we found her,” she said.

He nodded. “Me too. Mum would’ve hated it if we hadn’t. At least now she knows the poor thing wasn’t killed by a fox or anything.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Hard to tell. It’s almost certainly my fault, though, for leaving her out all night.”

“This is why I’ll never have pets,” she said. “I could only cope if I could lock them up and keep them safe, and that doesn’t seem very vegan. If they were my chickens, I wouldn’t want to let them out of the coop.”

“We used to think like that,” he said. “Mum wouldn’t let us have pets for years. We only have the chickens and the sheep because they’re rescues. Mum knows letting them wander means they might get into trouble. We’ve been lucky up to now, we haven’t lost a single one.”

“Poor Miranda,” Autumn sighed.

Marley gently stroked the chicken’s wing. “Poor Miranda,” he repeated. “This is all my fault. I just took for granted she’d be in the coop. Mum checks and double checks. I reassured her. I talked her out of going out in the rain. I’m an idiot.”

Autumn didn’t want to disagree with him. To do so would feel like an insult to Miranda, who’d had her own likes and dislikes, her own personality, her own sense of self. They sat in silence for a moment and then he groaned. “Mum’s going to be devastated,” he said.

“She is,” Autumn agreed, picking anxiously at her fingernails. She wanted to talk to Marley about something important — something she was aware he would not want to discuss with her — and she knew this might be the only opportunity she’d get. The weight of that conversation and the responsibility that came with it was making her fidget. Marley noticed.

“What’s happening?” he gestured to her restless legs. “Why are you nervous all of a sudden?”

This was it. It was now or never. She took a deep breath, then forced herself to say what was on her mind.

“How can you be this worried about how devastated your mum will be when she finds out Miranda is dead when you know you’re planning to kill yourself?” She was babbling. “Surely youmust know what that will do to her, Marley? The pain you’ll cause her, it’ll be a thousand times worse than this! You’re worried your neglect last night will hurt her when she finds out Miranda is gone, but you’re planning on . . .”

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