Before You Say Goodbye

Chapter 6

They were woken by a knock on the door. It was light outside. Autumn jumped up from the sofa and ran to the bedroom to get her dressing gown. She was too tired to ponder who it might be. She hurried clumsily across the living room. Bowie had barely moved. She checked him over and was relieved to note that he was still breathing.

She yanked the door open and did a double take. She had forgotten just how similar Bowie and Marley were.

“Hi.” Marley waved awkwardly. She pulled her dressing gown further around herself.

“Hi. Shit. Hi.”

“Sorry to burst in on you like this but I told Mum Bowie and I would be home for lunch in an hour. If I don’t take him with me, she’ll have a nervous breakdown.”

“Come in,” Autumn said, stepping away from the door to reveal his brother. Bowie was covered in a blanket but he was clearly naked underneath it. Marley grinned.

“Big fan of sofa sex,” he said.

Autumn cringed. She and her sister, Lilly, may have talked about sex a little bit when they were much younger but she couldn’t imagine being so open with her about it now. Still, she didn’t get the impression that he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable. If Marley was anything like Bluebell, and Autumn suspected from the ease with which he teased her that he must be, then he wouldn’t feel sex was something to be embarrassed about. He nudged his brother’s leg with his foot.

“Bowie, get up.”

Bowie opened his eyes and sat up, leaning on his elbows.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“It’s midday. We have to go home. Mum called last night to talk to you and was ranting and raving about your appetite, so I agreed, on your behalf, that you’d let her feed you lunch today.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“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 where their 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.”

“She’s here with Bowie,” Emma said meaningfully, chopping a carrot rather viciously. Autumn winced. Apparently their revelation hadn’t been entirely forgotten. Maddie raised her eyebrows in surprise. She made Autumn feel nervous and she didn’t know why. She seemed sweet and polite, but Autumn could sense a sisterly protectiveness that made her feel shaky already. Bowie nudged Autumn supportively with his elbow. Marley locked his gaze on his brother and winked when their eyes met. Though she hadn’t been aware he was tense, Autumn felt Bowie relax a little beside her and wondered what it felt like to have consistent, unwavering support.

“Nice to meet you, Autumn,” Maddie said. “Cool name, by the way.”

Their sister picked up a knife and busied herself cutting up cucumbers beside their mother. The room was silent, the atmosphere claggy and uncomfortable. Autumn stared at her drink. She felt on edge and wished someone would do something to change the mood in the room.

“So, how many of you are there altogether?” Autumn asked, when she could no longer stand the silence. She already knew, of course, but she just wanted someone to say something.

“Five,” they all replied together.

“And two parents,” Emma added.

Autumn nodded. “So, there’s Bowie and Marley, Maddie and Bluebell . . .”

“And Pip,” Marley and Bowie said in unison.

“Our lovely surprise child,” Emma said.

“He’s the cutest thing ever,” Maddie added.

“He’s a little shit.” Marley shook his head.

Bowie concurred. “He has these girls wrapped around his little finger.”

Emma laughed, rolling her eyes.

“He’s wonderful, Autumn,” she said. “You’ll love him. These two are just jealous.”

“We are.” Bowie nodded. “And that’s because Pip is Mum’s favourite.”

“I don’t have a favourite,” Emma said. “I love you all. Very much. In different ways, but in equal amounts.”

“Lies.” Bowie and Marley chimed in together. Their words were equally fervent. Autumn laughed. Maddie smiled knowingly at her.

“They do that all the time. You’ll stop noticing it after a while.”

The women went back to chopping veggies, and Bowie and Marley lost themselves in thought. Autumn felt her anxiety returning, but, before they’d fully descended into awkward silence, she was startled out of her dread by a bell in the hallway.

“That’s the elevator intercom,” Bowie murmured to her, squeezing her knee affectionately. Marley was watching them. He smiled.

“Is that my invisible boys I hear?” a gruff voice called from the hallway. The twins answered with a loud, identical laugh. Autumn heard the removal of shoes, and then a middle-aged man entered the room. His thick brown hair was shoulder-length and his eyes were a lovely shade of golden brown. It was abundantly clear who Maddie resembled. He hugged his wife and his daughter, then greeted Bowie and Marley with a kiss on the cheek. Autumn thought it was sweet. Her own father was against kissing anyone, never mind other men. Bowie made the introductions this time.

“This is our dad, Ben.”

He took her hand to shake, watching Bowie expectantly.

“Dad, this is Autumn.”

“Lovely to meet you, flower. You’re a friend of Bluebell’s, right?”

Autumn smiled and nodded. She found herself wishing Bluebell had not discussed their friendship with her family quite so much. She waited for Bowie to correct him.

“And mine too,” he said.

“Oh!” Ben said, raising his eyebrows. He sat beside his daughter and nodded at Bowie, pointedly ignoring Emma, who was fishing for his eye across the island. Marley smirked.

“Well, my love,” said Ben. “Welcome to the family.”

* * *

The fact that Bowie and Bluebell were brother and sister, that his parents were also her parents, felt odd to Autumn. When Bluebell arrived around an hour later, Autumn found herself feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Despite her friend’s customary warm greeting, Autumn felt a little as though she were being introduced to her for the first time. She bet the Whittles didn’t know Bluebell like she did, her proclivity for orgies and all.

Bluebell kissed everyone except Marley, whom she smacked around the side of the head instead.

“What the fuck was that for?” Marley asked, and Emma scolded him.

“Language, Marley.”

“You lied to me the other day about taking Autumn home in a taxi!” Bluebell said accusingly.

“I was lying for Bowie.”

Bowie braced himself for his sister’s assault, but Bluebell’s stance softened.

“Well, I can’t hit Bow, can I?”

Bowie relaxed with a grin.

“You shouldn’t lie for Bowie anyway,” Emma said.

Marley was rubbing his head.

“Then tell him to stop asking me to lie for him.”

“Bowie, stop asking your brother to lie for you,” Ben said.

“Well, if you tell my parents to stop being so ridiculously overprotective, then I will.”

* * *

Emma made more coffee, and they talked about things they had seen on the news. In the middle of a debate about how to save the UK economy, the youngest Whittle arrived. Emma had been right. Autumn loved Pip instantly. He was young, perhaps eighteen, but had the bearing of a much older man.

“Bluebell’s friend, right?” he asked as he released her from his embrace.

“And mine,” Bowie added again.

“Yeah, I heard,” he said. He wrapped his arms lovingly around Maddie’s shoulders, pulling her back into his chest and rocking her from side to side. She reciprocated his affection with a loving smile.

“We were out together last night,” Bluebell explained. “But then I lost him.”

“Where did you go?” Bowie asked.

Marley grinned. “Did you meet a handsome man?”

“Actually, I did.” He glanced meaningfully between their parents. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Here I was, thinking my children could talk to me about anything.” Ben sighed with mock sadness.

Marley shook his head. “Not sex, Dad. That’d be gross.”

“Then I suggest you adjust your volume when you bring women home with you, Marley,” Ben said with a wink. Everyone laughed except Emma, who shook her head in dismay.

“Can we not have these kinds of conversations when we have a guest?” she said.

“We’re not going to pretend to be something we’re not.” Marley shrugged.

“That’s not what you taught us,” Pip added.

Bluebell chipped in. “Autumn already knows who we are.”

They were warm and kind and welcoming. The most unique and interesting collective Autumn had ever met. She’d known from the very beginning that Bluebell was eccentric. Bowie had seemed somewhat more conventional, but only somewhat. Meeting their family made everything clear to her. The Whittles were on a spectrum of strange. They clearly adored one another and that made her like them even more. Autumn wondered if Emma and Ben knew what a wonderful family unit they had created. One in which their children were able to really be themselves. To express themselves fully. She wondered if it had been intentional.

On cue, Emma threw her hands up in surrender.

“Oh, you’re right, you’re right, you’re right. Autumn, I apologise in advance if we do or say anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. We’re all very close and extremely open. Not everyone is OK with that. If we get too much for you, do feel free to shut us up. We won’t be offended.”

“I fucking will be.” Bluebell announced this loudly.

Emma glared.

* * *

An hour or so later, they moved from the kitchen into a dining room that was twice as expansive and equally as impressive. They carried trays of roasted vegetables, tabbouleh, hummus and root vegetable stew to the table. Emma spoke quietly to Autumn, despite the hustle and bustle, telling her Bowie barely ate anymore, so she always made lots of little dishes in the hope something might take his fancy. It was the first time anyone had addressed his cancer with her directly.

They sat, served up, then settled into chit-chat. The large round table made conversation easy.

“So, how did you two meet?” Emma looked to Bowie and Autumn. Autumn had helped herself to a small plate of hummus and some vegetables. She was eating slowly so she didn’t finish before everyone else, but in a way that made it look like she’d eaten a fair amount. She’d become a talented illusionist over the years.

“We met at a Marley show,” Bowie said. His portion was even smaller than hers, but he didn’t seem to be eating any of it. Every now and then, he raised a forkful of vegetables to his lips, but mostly returned it to his plate.

“Ah, so you’ve witnessed how talented our son is?” Ben rubbed Marley’s shoulder affectionately.

“I have. He’s great.” Autumn smiled at Marley.

“Thank you,” Marley said shyly. Autumn was surprised. He didn’t seem the type to be bashful. He was working his way through the mountain of food as though someone was about to steal it from him.

“And what about Bowie? Have you heard any of his music?” Emma asked. Bowie blushed.

“Mum, can we not turn this lunch into a showcase of our achievements?”

“I’m not showcasing you. I don’t need to. She seems pretty smitten with you as it is.”

Autumn confirmed his mother’s observation by squeezing Bowie’s knee under the table. He was all she really wanted to talk about. It made her feel warm inside. She had been a little worried that she might spend the entire afternoon longing to be alone with him, but, now, despite the initial awkward silences, she was very much enjoying spending time with his family. He lit up when he was around them and she was learning more about him. So far, everything Autumn had heard made her like him even more.

“I haven’t heard any. We haven’t really had a chance yet,” she said.

Ben and Emma glanced at one another, and Bowie tensed beside her. Autumn knew she’d said the wrong thing. Her eyes darted to Bluebell. Her friend winked at her, then put down her knife and fork and eyed her mother warily. Emma shot her daughter a warning glance.

“When did you two meet?” Ben asked. His voice was saturated with concern. Autumn looked to Bowie to respond.

“Just the other night,” he said.

“Oh, Bowie.” Emma put her head in her hands.

“Don’t do this, Mum,” Bowie said warningly.

The room fell into awkward silence. Marley and Pip focused on their food, their eyes meeting meaningfully every now and again. The rest of the family had stopped eating. Autumn stared at the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bowie maintaining eye contact with his father. They were locked in wordless communication. Autumn had never felt as though she’d known anybody well enough to do that. When Ben spoke, it was to her.

“Autumn, we don’t mean to be rude. Please don’t take this personally, but Bowie is at a uniquely difficult point in his life, and it’s inevitable we would be concerned about him becoming involved with someone at this time.”

“In actual fact, I’m at the end of my life, Dad, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let me be happy.” Bowie pushed his plate away. Marley put down his cutlery and placed his hand supportively on his brother’s shoulder. Autumn could see pain and frustration etched on Bowie’s face, but she felt him relax a little at Marley’s touch. Maddie glanced sympathetically at Autumn and then she spoke, too.

“This isn’t just about you, Bowie. This is about Autumn, too. The next few months are going to be awful. It isn’t the right time to be dragging someone else into it.”

“Autumn knows what she’s getting herself into,” Marley said.

Maddie scowled. “Marley, we don’t need your biased twin-sibling defence mechanism to kick in right now, OK? Thanks.”

Marley bristled. “What the fuck do you know about it?”

“Don’t start!” Emma held a hand up to each of them. They ignored her and braced for battle, squaring their shoulders towards each other.

“Get over yourself.” Maddie glared at Marley. “Just because you shared a womb at the same time you think Bowie can do no wrong?”

Bowie tried to interject. “Maddie—”

“You have no idea what we’re going through.” Marley shook his head at their sister.

Bowie tried again. “Marley—”

“This isn’t happening to you .” Maddie stood. Marley followed.

“Exactly.” He threw his hands in the air. “It’s happening to Bowie. So shut up and let him live his life.”

“You think you’re the only one who loves him,” Maddie said, incredulous.

“I love him more than you do.”

“What a load of shit—”

“Stop it right now!” Ben stood, glaring between his children.

Autumn had covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes searched for Bluebell’s. Her friend smiled sadly at her and Autumn knew then that these kinds of arguments over Bowie and what was best for him were common in the Whittle household.

Bluebell addressed her mum and dad.

“As much as it pains me to ever agree with Marley, I’m going to stick up for the twins. Bowie has been miserable for such a long time. Autumn could make him happy. She’s strong and smart, and she knows that this isn’t going to be easy. She isn’t someone who will go along with anything she isn’t comfortable with. If it gets too much, she’ll be the first to say, won’t you, Autumn? If she can give Bowie some happiness, isn’t that all that should matter?”

Pip began to applaud his sister, but stopped abruptly when Ben and Emma glared in his direction. His eyes darted purposefully and comedically left and right. Bowie and Marley smirked at each other, and the tension was broken. Autumn had to fight hard to stop herself laughing out loud. Composing herself, she asked if she could speak. Emma nodded, smiling weakly. She was already defeated, and she knew it.

“I don’t want to be rude, but Bowie and I are both adults. We’ve made this decision together and, to be honest, I can’t see why it should involve any of you.”

Whatever it was they’d expected her to say, it clearly hadn’t been that. Autumn had surprised herself, in fact. She’d intended to make a declaration of her commitment to Bowie, even though she couldn’t quite see the point. She wanted to be with him, and he with her. A family fallout about it was a waste of time that they didn’t have the luxury of. She hoped that they would find her audacity endearing. Ben certainly seemed to. He raised an eyebrow at Bowie, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Emma cleared her throat, turning to Autumn.

“Well, young lady. It has been a long time since my children brought an individual with your dauntlessness to meet us. You’re right. You’re fully grown adults. There is nothing I can do to stop you if you want to be with my son and he wants to be with you. But, I warn you, the next few months are going to be horrendous. We’ve fought for years to keep Bowie alive. It’s incomprehensible to us that he isn’t going to survive this.”

Emma stopped talking and grabbed Ben’s hand. Maddie’s eyes filled with tears. She excused herself to Autumn, brushing away the comforting hands of Bluebell and Pip as she left the room, wiping tears from her face as she went. Marley watched her go, his face fraught with guilt. So far they’d seemed to be coping so well, but their heartbreak was palpable now. Autumn moved to speak, to apologise, but Bowie shook his head. Eventually, Emma continued, her voice cracking.

“I don’t imagine anyone you love has ever asked you to kill them, have they, Autumn?”

Autumn murmured a no. Bowie rubbed his hand nervously across his face.

“We sat around Bowie’s bed three weeks ago during a particularly bad pain episode and argued about fulfilling his wish and putting him out of his misery. That’s what we’re dealing with. If you want to be with him while we face this, we’ll need you to be part of those conversations without feeling like there’s a stranger in the room. You are going to need to throw yourself wholeheartedly into this family as though you’ve always been here. You’ll need to be honest with us about your feelings and your thoughts, even when you know we won’t want to hear what you have to say. That’s the only way we’ll be able to include you in what we’re facing. If you think you can do that, I’ll accept you as one of our own, because if you are going to go through this with us, that’s how we’ll need it to be.”

Bowie held her hand tighter beneath the table. Autumn knew he was unafraid to hear her answer. Her feelings for him were entirely beyond her control. There was no way that she could conceive of him — or Bluebell — facing this without her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

* * *

They accepted her words and, at Bowie’s request, moved the conversation on. Marley left the table to find Maddie and came back into the room a moment later holding her hand. She mouthed an apology to Autumn across the table. Autumn waved it away. Nobody managed to finish their lunch, but Emma made sure they knew they’d find it in the fridge when they got peckish later on.

“And you will be eating later,” she told Bowie sternly.

The living room, with its ivory gold wallpaper and hardwood floors, took Autumn’s breath away. Colourful throws, textured rugs and soft cushions were scattered artfully and invitingly, and the floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city from a breathtaking height.

“Your home is beautiful,” Autumn told Emma.

“Thank you. We don’t like it so much, actually. It’s so impersonal. It belongs to a friend of ours. We’re just staying here while we’re in New York. We prefer our own home.”

“Even though it’s just as pointlessly huge,” Bluebell quipped.

“But so much homelier,” Emma said.

“And much, much colder,” Bowie added.

Ben opened the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whisky.

“You ungrateful little shits. Do you know what some people would give to have the home we made for you?”

Bowie and Bluebell smirked at one other. Emma chuckled, shaking her head.

“They are grateful, Autumn, they just like winding Ben up.”

Autumn chose to sit next to Ben on the smallest cream sofa. She was inexplicably intrigued by her lover’s father. He was warm and kind, and it drew her to him. She could already see so much of Bowie in him.

“What do you do, Ben?” she asked as they settled in.

“Nothing now. I did own a content-writing company but I sold it last year when Bowie became seriously ill. I mentor other writers now.”

“I’m a writer too,” she said. She was thrilled to find they had something in common. He turned to give her his full attention.

“Oh, really? What do you write?”

“Everything,” Bowie answered for her, his face exploding into a grin. He said it with the same expression of wide-eyed wonderment she’d used when she’d said the same thing to him three evenings before. He winked at her. She laughed.

“He’s right. Everything. Mainly novels. Poetry, although it doesn’t pay. Articles, sometimes. And my blog.”

“Autumn wrote that book that I was telling you about, Dad,” Bowie said. “About the factory farm.”

“Ah, yes.” Ben nodded. He looked impressed. Autumn felt proud.

“She gave me a copy. I’ll give it to you later,” Bowie said.

“Is it having the desired effect?” Ben asked. “I’m guessing you wrote it to encourage people to consider changing their eating habits?”

“That’s not really happening because it’s mostly vegans who are buying it.”

“People are afraid of change, especially such a big one. It will come. Give it time.”

Something in the way he said it told her he really believed it. His tone was friendly and comforting, and she felt like he had faith in her. She hadn’t had much experience with dads, but she didn’t feel uneasy or uncomfortable around Ben. He engaged her in effortless conversation for over an hour, displaying the same impressive intellect and genuine interest that had attracted her to Bowie, and talking mainly of his children and their ambitions.

“If my parents had let me do what I loved, I’d have been a musician. That’s why Emma and I have always encouraged our children to do whatever makes their souls sing. We have the money to allow them to chase their dreams and that’s what they’ve done, with some real success along the way.”

She found him so warm, friendly and charming, like the dads she’d read about in books and seen on TV. There was something comforting about his presence. Autumn knew if she wasn’t careful she’d commandeer his attention all night. She felt as though she should mingle a little more, perhaps pay some attention to Bowie, his mother and his siblings, but they were entertaining themselves and Ben was so easy to talk to.

“Tell me more about Bowie?” she asked. His face filled with pride.

“Autumn, he’s a wonderful person. Of course, I’m his father, I would say that, but everyone who meets him tells me how lovely he is. He’s sweet and kind and caring, and he works hard. He’s always worked hard at everything, ever since he was a little boy. He’s funny, and would do anything to help anyone. He has such a passion for adventure. He’s never been afraid of anything.”

Ben’s final words caught in his throat. He tossed back his whisky, swallowing hard.

“I’m immensely proud to call him my son. That’s why you must excuse what happened earlier. If things go the way we expect, we don’t have long left with him. We want him for ourselves.”

Autumn nodded. She hadn’t thought about that. To his family, she would be an extra demand on Bowie’s time. They wanted to spend every minute with him and she might keep him away from them. She resolved to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Tell me about his music.” She liked to hear Ben talk about his son. She let herself wonder if her own father ever spoke of her in this way. She doubted it. To her parents and her sister, Autumn had always been ‘the weird one’. Autumn knew that because of her name and her personality, most people would assume she was from a very different background. They would think she had a family who’d showered her with affection and lovingly pruned her character, who’d consciously raised a confident, independent and determined woman. But Autumn, and people like her, knew better. She was willing to bet her mother had given more thought to naming her than she had to absolutely anything concerning her welfare since. She was sure the Whittles would never believe her and could guarantee she would never feel comfortable talking to them about it. She’d tried that before with people, the conversation always ending with their eyebrows pitched high by scepticism. She’d learned her lesson. Ben beamed.

“Oh, he makes the most beautiful music. He really is very impressive. It kind of happened by accident for Bowie. He wrote some songs when he was younger for an amateur theatre group we performed with and fell in love with the process, but he can be a little shy. He never would have put himself out there if we hadn’t been behind him. We joke that he and Marley are the same, but they’re not. Marley absolutely loves attention — he’s a real extrovert — but Bowie would rather stay in the background and watch someone else showcase his work. Whenever he’s written a piece he wanted to post online or send to a director or whatever, Marley has performed it for him.”

“They adore each other, huh?” Autumn smiled. Ben nodded, continuing.

“Hopelessly. Marley, in particular, would do absolutely anything for Bowie. I suspect there were times he even pretended to be him. Bowie doesn’t see how special he is. He thinks Marley is the talented one and he’s the one who just got lucky. I suspect you’ll never get to see him commanding a stage full of performers and an orchestra the way he used to, but I’m sure we have a video of it somewhere. I’ll try to dig it out for you. He lives and breathes what he does. He really comes alive.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Any excuse to show off my boy. He has great talent. He writes love songs — that’s where he really flies. He has a romantic heart. He’s been waiting for a very long time for someone to give it to. He’ll hate that I’ve told you that.”

Autumn smiled. “Your family is very creative.” Ben chuckled.

“It ends there, actually. Maddie is a carer and she loves it. She adores her job — all she ever really wanted to do was help people. There isn’t much room for creativity in care, sadly. She used to sing, but not so much anymore. Pip is studying politics. Whenever we ask him what he wants to do, he tells us he’s going to be prime minister.”

Autumn laughed.

“Emma taught drama.”

“All noble professions.”

“And Bluebell, as you well know, makes a career of doing nothing.”

He didn’t sound bitter. More like he found it amusing.

“Why doesn’t she work?” Autumn asked. If Autumn had been given the opportunities Bluebell had, she’d have been writing full time at the earliest opportunity. Her circumstances had left her with little choice but to pursue a pay packet wherever she had been able to, while writing in her spare time. Bluebell didn’t have to. She could craft a career in whatever she wanted to and yet she chose to do nothing instead.

“She hasn’t found anything that makes her heart happy,” Ben said. Autumn smiled. Bowie had used those words once: ‘Success isn’t measured in the things you have; it’s measured by how happy your heart is.’ His father had obviously been a great influence on the man he had become.

Autumn looked over at Bluebell. She was sitting with her head on Marley’s shoulder. They were laughing heartily at something Pip had said. She always seemed so full of joy. Perhaps doing nothing was enough for her. Ben continued.

“To be honest, they’ll argue about it, but I think what’s happening to Bowie has hit her hardest of all of us. Except for Marley, of course.”

Autumn hadn’t been given the impression Bluebell and Bowie were particularly close. She wondered if Ben was making excuses for her behaviour. It had been Maddie who had been unable to sit at the table when they’d been talking about his lymphoma and it was Marley who seemed to defend Bowie no matter what.

“She was studying drama in sixth form when Bowie was first diagnosed and she was completely devastated. Bluebell always treated Bowie’s cancer as though it were a death sentence, from the very beginning, even when the doctors were reassuring us about it. It’s as if she’s always known it would take him from us. She had so many dreams and aspirations as a young woman, but she dropped everything to spend her time with him. When Marley wanted to move over here to try to break into acting, it went without saying Bowie and Bluebell would follow. Bowie can work here and Bluebell follows Bowie wherever he goes. She has for fourteen years.”

Her friend was obviously in more distress than Autumn had registered. That realisation made her feel guilty.

“How’s Marley handling it all?” she asked. Ben winced.

“He isn’t, really. Twin relationships are usually special, but those two are inseparable. I could count on one hand the number of times they’ve been apart for more than twenty-four hours. They adore each other, Autumn. They don’t know how to live without each other. Marley tells us all the time that he wishes this was happening to him instead of Bowie. He can’t stand the thought of living without his twin. Of course, Bowie would tell you he would take this disease any day over the idea that he might have to live without Marley. If they could, they would literally fight over who got to be the one to die, just so that they didn’t have to be the one left behind.”

Autumn’s eyes filled with tears. The idea Bowie might feel like the lucky one because he wouldn’t be the one left living made her heart break. Ben rested his hand affectionately on her arm and asked her if she was OK. She nodded.

“For those two,” he said, “dying feels easier than living without each other and I’m quite sure Marley won’t ever get over it.”

Autumn watched the two of them together. They were sitting side by side on the sofa. Marley had his arm around Bowie’s shoulders and was massaging his head with his fingers. He was staring, lost in thought, into his glass of rum. Bowie was asleep.

“Will Marley be OK?” Autumn asked. Ben paused for a moment and Autumn knew, somehow, it was not because he didn’t know what to say, but rather he did not know how to say it.

“No. I don’t think he will be OK, my love. And there’s only one thing more terrifying for Emma and I than the fear of losing one child, and that’s the idea that we might lose two.”

* * *

Suddenly it was late and Emma was reasoning that they should all stay in. Bluebell, Marley and Pip had been vehemently insisting since the early evening that they were going out to a bar, and Autumn, who feared she had overstayed her welcome, had been trying to leave for hours by then. Autumn suspected Emma believed Bowie would go with her if she went home and she wanted her children close at all times. She hadn’t said it outright, but she was heavily hinting Autumn should spend the night. There was no way Autumn would feel comfortable doing that if Bowie’s siblings went out, and Emma probably knew that, so she’d focused her attention on persuading them to drop their plans, and this was a woman who knew how to bribe her children. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed,” she said. Maddie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t do that, Mum. They should want to stay in of their own free will.”

“I’ll stay in if there’s more rum.” Marley knocked back his drink.

“There’s always more rum.” Ben took a bottle from the cabinet, filling his son’s tumbler and moving to refill Autumn’s empty glass. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. She looked to Bowie for guidance, but he was still sleeping on the sofa. Marley took the bottle from Ben and poured it into her glass.

“He’s not going anywhere tonight, so you might as well stay here and party with us,” he said. Autumn turned to Emma.

“Are you sure that’s all right, Emma?” she asked. There had been rules in her family home about love interests spending the night. It had been forbidden. Autumn had tried to argue that their male cousins on her mother’s side were allowed girls in their bedrooms, and had pointed out that she had allowed those cousins and their girlfriends to stay in their home and in the same bed, but her mother had said it was different for girls. Autumn had accepted it at the time, sneaking boys in through her bedroom window, but, as an adult, she objected to such unequal treatment. Her mother was entitled to have rules under her own roof, but Autumn was against those rules being different for boys and girls. It was highly unlikely they’d ever have the argument, since Autumn didn’t plan on staying at her mother’s house ever again.

She had gathered, by now, that the Whittles were a little more open-minded when it came to sex. The topic had come up more than once tonight. They talked openly about it, accepting it as a normal part of adult life. Their conversations were free of smut and embarrassment, so Autumn knew that staying the night would be OK with Bowie’s parents, but she thought it was polite to check. Emma smiled warmly.

“Of course it is. Although I think you might be disappointed if you’re hoping for a night of passion.”

Emma ran her hand affectionately across Bowie’s face. He murmured and opened his eyes a little, but went straight back to sleep. Autumn blushed. Marley laughed.

“Cigarette?” he asked her. She nodded, clambering up from the floor. Autumn hardly ever bought cigarettes of her own accord to smoke alone, but she did smoke socially occasionally, purchasing a pack or two here and there to repay people when she felt she’d accepted a few too many. She hated the habit, but couldn’t help herself. She’d seen Marley duck out onto the balcony several hours earlier and had followed him shyly to ask if she could have one. He’d obliged, then invited her to join him every time he’d gone out since. Autumn was surprised Marley smoked given his brother had cancer, but wasn’t bold enough to ask him how he reconciled it in his mind. She knew she probably shouldn’t smoke either, but it hadn’t stopped her tonight.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Marley,” Emma said.

He put a cigarette between his lips and batted her comment away nonchalantly as he handed one to Autumn. He was unsteady on his feet and Autumn was not surprised. He’d drunk almost an entire bottle of rum to himself. She was mildly impressed that he hadn’t thrown up yet. If she’d tried to put away even half of what he’d had, she’d already be in bed.

Emma persisted. “You’re killing yourself.” Marley bristled. His eyes darted to his sleeping brother. He shrugged again.

“And?”

“Don’t you dare start that again.” Maddie spoke up from her armchair in the corner.

“Start what? Telling the truth? I don’t care if I die—”

Emma opened her mouth as if to shout a retort, but Ben stepped between his son and the rest of the family, pushing him playfully towards the balcony.

“Get out. Get out, you drunk. Go and have your cigarette.”

Marley laughed, allowing his father to shove him through the doors. It was an expertly engineered tension breaker, but Autumn was dismayed to see real terror in Emma’s eyes when she turned to send her an apologetic smile. Emma forced the fear from her face, gesticulating her permission for Autumn to follow Marley outside.

It was so very cold. Autumn picked up a blanket from the wicker garden chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. Marley did likewise.

“They’re crazy, aren’t they?” he asked her. He’d used the same conversation starter every time they’d stepped outside. Apparently, he was not as talented a talker as his brother and father.

“Yeah. Crazy. But lovely.”

He nodded, puffing his cigarette to life.

“Yeah. They’re the best.”

They stood in silence for a minute. She felt comfortable in his company. She watched him, admiring the way he smoked. His movements were graceful and well-rehearsed.

“I know he’s my twin and I’m biased, but Bowie is the greatest.”

“I don’t think you are biased, actually,” she said. Marley smiled, blowing smoke dramatically towards the sky.

“He’s been waiting for someone like you for ages. Someone he can share the things he cares about with. Someone who can think deeply about things the way he can.”

“I know how he feels.” Autumn had always been aware that most people thought she was strange. She had always been told that she cared about things a little too much. Things that didn’t matter to most people. Being called weird had bothered her when she was young, but now she viewed it as a compliment. She wanted to care. She had a strong sense of justice, that was all, and no interest in being like everybody else, even though it made finding people who understood her extremely difficult. Marley smiled knowingly.

“Me too,” he said.

They smoked in silence for a while. The roar of the city below bounced off the canopy above their heads. The cool breeze made Autumn shiver. Marley took the blanket from his shoulders and offered it to her. She shook her head, but her teeth were still chattering.

“Take it,” he said, wrapping it around her shoulders so that she didn’t have to untangle her arms from the warmth of her own blanket.

“Marley, you’ve no proper clothes on,” she said. He was wearing just a pair of jeans and a plain grey T-shirt. He shrugged his shoulders as high as they would go and wrapped his arms around his chest to shield himself from the wind. He was clearly freezing, but it was pointless trying to get him to take the blanket back. Autumn knew that men like the Whittle men were never anything but chivalrous.

They smoked their cigarettes down to their stubs in silence. Despite the snap in the air, Marley seemed in no hurry to head back into the warm. She felt compelled to stay with him for a while longer, so when he offered her another cigarette, though she wasn’t really a chain-smoker, she accepted it with good grace.

“We had a fight tonight. Bowie and I,” he said.

“What about?” she asked.

“Because he’s supposed to be leaving for England next week and now he’s saying he doesn’t want to go anymore.”

Autumn blinked in the darkness and said nothing. She tried to ignore the knot of fear in her stomach. Marley was staring out across the city.

“The plan was that we would all go home and spend the next few months together. I’ve quit my band. We have our tickets. Everything is all set, but now he’s saying he doesn’t want to leave you.”

He paused to take another drag. She could tell he was struggling to say whatever it was that he needed to say next. “We all want to be at home when . . .”

He stopped and blew smoke out until it surrounded them both. Autumn tried to communicate her understanding wordlessly. She didn’t want him to feel like he had to speak words that were torturing him. She watched his face, and realised he had been frowning since she’d first opened her apartment door to him that morning. This man was in serious pain.

“But Bowie wants to be wherever you are,” he said. His eyes pleaded with her. She knew what he was asking her to do. She smoked her cigarette, thinking carefully. Autumn hated living in England. As soon as she’d been able to, she’d left her home country. Her mum and her sister had pretended to cry when they’d dropped her off at university like all the other families, but nobody called her for a week after that, and even then it was only so they could ask her if she had space in her uni dorm to store some boxes because they wanted to turn her bedroom into a gym. She’d made one real friend during her time there, but they had lost touch not long after graduation. Becca had married a man they’d met in a grubby bar in freshers’ week almost right away. Autumn had been a bridesmaid at her wedding, but now she could barely remember Becca’s husband’s name. Was it Jonathan or James? It definitely began with a J.

Autumn had worked as a journalist for a small newspaper in Manchester after her studies, then as a charity worker in Brighton. She’d moved to London for a role as a copywriter when she was twenty-five. Fortnightly phone calls with her mother had drifted into awkward chats once a month and then every other, and now she barely heard from them at all. Family just wasn’t Autumn’s thing. That was fine by her. She hadn’t chosen them and they weren’t the type of people that she liked. Still, she had often wondered why she struggled to make friends.

On the best day of her life, the day someone called to say they wanted to publish her book, she’d had absolutely nobody to talk to about it. Autumn didn’t feel as though she’d had enough casual conversation with her mother in the weeks beforehand to ring her up and announce her success. It would have been profoundly uncomfortable for both of them. Her mum and her sister would feel awkward about congratulating her and probably think she was bragging. At the very least, they would be confused about why she was choosing to tell them. They were under the impression she had a vibrant social life and plenty of friends, so they might ask why she wasn’t celebrating her success with them instead of ringing up to boast.

Autumn couldn’t stand the idea that they might realise that she didn’t really have anyone. Plus, they wouldn’t be able to give her what she wanted anyway. They wouldn’t appreciate the commitment she’d needed to work full time while simultaneously writing and publishing her book, nor the hours spent poring over paragraphs to make her story right, or the courage needed to face the many, many rejection letters she’d received. They wouldn’t recognise that her blood, sweat and tears were on every single page, or what a big deal it was to Autumn herself. She hadn’t dared to believe that she wrote well for a very long time. She’d kept her words to herself, avoiding her dreams being dashed, inevitably as she saw it, throughout her teenage years and her twenties, because if she didn’t have writing she didn’t have anything.

Being published was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. It was confirmation she was actually good at the thing she loved to do most. Still, to her surprise, it had saddened her to have no one to share her joy with. Those had been her happiest days and also her saddest. Instead of marking her success, she’d found herself crippled with loneliness, so when her publishers suggested she participate in a book tour and Autumn had visited and enjoyed New York, she’d set about figuring out how she could move here. The city provided the perfect new backdrop for her relentless social media posting, which had so far been the key to her success. Autumn was quiet and private in her everyday life, but she’d cultivated a quirky and confident internet persona, a heavily edited and outgoing version of herself. Her timing had been accidentally impeccable, she’d started her page when building an audience online had been possible if you were brave enough to try it. She’d built a moderate following of fans, who had followed her writing journey and — eager to push her message — bought her book. By the time she was considering moving to New York, Autumn felt invincible. She was ready to try surviving somewhere new. It had been the best decision she’d ever made. She had found her home, then Walter, then Bluebell had come along, and now there was Bowie. Despite the new and scary things happening around her, she hadn’t felt as happy as she had that afternoon, doing nothing really except relax with the Whittles, in a very long time.

Autumn knew Marley was studying her while she mused. They leaned back against the railings, aware that the lights in the lounge meant nobody could see them looking in on them. Bowie was still sleeping, his family gathered around him. Autumn watched Bluebell, who was sitting on the floor supporting Bowie’s head, staring into his face and stroking his hair with her fingers. Autumn shook her head bitterly. Bluebell was flighty, but she was an extraordinary friend. When Autumn had admitted recently that she’d had nobody to celebrate with when she’d won her book deal for Beans: An Extraordinary Pig Tale , Bluebell had recoiled in horror, insisting they celebrate together immediately. She’d listened to her talk about her writing for hours on end, held her hair back over the toilet when she was sick, and cooked for her when she had been too busy with her writing to remember to eat. Bluebell was the only person in the whole world who knew how lonely Autumn had been, and that she still cried when she watched movies about parents who loved their kids. She even knew that once, just once, Autumn had thought seriously about jumping off a balcony as high as the one she was standing on now. All this time, she had not realised just how much pain Bluebell had been in and, since Bowie had told her what he was facing, she was ashamed to recognise that she’d not looked at how Bluebell might be coping with it all. Perhaps it was because she had no real relationship with her own sister, but that was no excuse. She had believed herself a better person than that.

And Bowie. He’d smashed his way into her life with more enthusiasm than anyone ever. He had, somehow, driven his way into her heart, and there was no removing him now. The Whittles felt like her people. The tribe she had been looking for. Her happiness seemed to be wherever they were. Although England didn’t mean home to her, she understood completely why they wanted to be there together for the end of Bowie’s life.

“We can buy you a ticket . . .” Marley said.

Autumn shook her head. She knew what she had to do. Bowie’s family wanted to take him home and there was no real reason to argue. There was no other way.

She turned to Marley, her phone poised.

“I can buy my own ticket. When do we leave?” she asked.