Chapter Two
Later that evening, Maddie launched herself out of her seat in raucous applause.
On the stage, five-year-old Benjamin took his third bow, his cheeks tinged pink and his little fists tightly balled in what Maddie knew was an expression of excitement.
There must have been nearly five- hundred people in the audience, but his eyes were glued to his mum and dad, Autumn and Marley.
Maddie whistled and Autumn laughed, nudging her affectionately.
They kept clapping and Benjamin kept bowing until the director of the pantomime came onstage and took his hand to escort him off.
“Look at him, lapping it up.” Autumn’s eyes were wet with proud tears. This was Benjamin’s last show. Because of his age, another child would take over the role tomorrow, much to Benjamin’s dismay. He would live on the stage if he could.
Ben was still clapping. “Our little extrovert.” He beamed.
“He takes after his dad, I fear,” Maddie joked. Autumn laughed.
“ Hey! ” Marley’s eyebrows knitted in mock offence.
They laughed harder, but Maddie saw Autumn reach for Marley’s hand and squeeze it reassuringly.
Marley locked his eyes on hers and Maddie bore witness to the kind of adoration she’d read about or seen in movies, but never experienced herself.
Autumn and Marley had not been graced with an easy start.
They hadn’t exactly met in a conventional fashion — but goodness, how they loved each other now.
Maddie knew them both so well — she and Marley had always been close and Autumn was a dear friend — but she still hadn’t expected them to fall as madly in love as they had.
Until he’d met Autumn, Marley hadn’t been interested in monogamous relationships.
His love for Autumn grew from nothing into everything across one summer, as they’d tried to navigate Bowie’s terminal illness.
Maddie still found it difficult to accept.
In her mind now, there were two Autumns: Bowie’s Autumn and Marley’s Autumn.
It was the only way she could forgive her brother and her friend for moving on together, despite the fact she knew Bowie approved because he’d told her — and everyone else — that he believed it was his purpose to bring Autumn into their family, to give Marley something to live for.
Autumn had clearly done that and more. She and Benjamin were absolutely everything to Marley and he in turn was the centre of Autumn’s and Benjamin’s universe.
Benjamin, who Maddie often joked was part boy, part whirlwind, came tearing into the auditorium and threw himself into his mother’s arms. She hoisted him up onto her hip. He graciously accepted congratulations from Nanny Emma and Grandpa Ben, before turning his attention back to Autumn.
“Are you proud of me, Mamma?” he asked, all giddy.
“I have never been prouder of anyone in the world ever!” Autumn said.
Maddie knew she meant it, but she also knew Autumn was nervous about Benjamin’s burgeoning love for the stage.
He loved drama classes and rehearsals and had started suggesting she leave him there and go home like the other mums did, but Autumn did not like leaving him in the care of anyone except close family members.
It was something she was fairly sure she and Benjamin would come to argue about, as he’d no doubt start seeking independence before Autumn was ready for it.
Benjamin turned his attention to Marley. “Did I make you laugh, Daddy?”
“All the way through,” Marley said, having managed to laugh with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t already seen the show dozens of times. Autumn and Marley had been at every single dress rehearsal and every evening since opening night.
“Aunty Maddie, did you laugh?” Benjamin pivoted his weight and Maddie opened her arms to take him from Autumn.
He was getting a little too old to be carried, but nobody was going to tell him that.
Benjamin had never once in his life been rejected when he’d requested affection.
Maddie was sure a luckier boy did not exist.
“I laughed so hard Grandpa Ben had to tell me to be quiet because he couldn’t hear,” Maddie said, pushing his shoulder-length hair away from his face.
People often mistook him for a little girl, but he liked having long hair, and as there was no practical reason to insist he got it cut, Autumn and Marley hadn’t bothered.
Maddie knew he wanted to look like his father, who was sporting a longer, shaggier mane of his own these days.
Marley had openly confessed one night that it was an attempt to stop so closely resembling the twin brother he had lost. Marley and Bowie had not been identical, but they’d looked and acted so similarly that people confused them for one another all the time.
In the wake of Bowie’s death, just looking in the mirror had caused Marley great pain.
Benjamin wriggled for freedom. “I’m going to find my friends.”
They watched him run off through the crowd.
“Your pain is finally over,” Marley said to Autumn, slinging his hand around her shoulder.
“Ugh,” she groaned dramatically. He laughed.
“Did you get bored of it?” Ben asked.
“Not watching Benjamin,” Autumn said, shaking her head. “But I am sick of the sight of these other people.”
Maddie chuckled. Autumn was an introvert. She liked being at home with her family and her books. Being around cast members and audiences every night was no doubt exhausting for her.
“It’ll get even worse if he starts doing it properly, for a professional production,” Marley said, rather pointedly.
Maddie saw Autumn bristle. Emma and Ben glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised, then turned away.
They hated it when Marley and Autumn bickered, and this was something the two were known to bicker about.
Larry Ross, an old family friend, wanted Benjamin to audition for a part in an upcoming musical, and Marley was keen he should do it.
Autumn was not so sure. She knew the Whittle’s favourite family memories centred around performing when they were children, but the theatre was also where Bluebell had met her abuser when she’d been just a teenager.
To Autumn, who had also suffered childhood abuse, it made sense that groomers would hang around places like theatres.
Marley had tried to tell her things were different now, there were protocols in place, but when Autumn had asked him how they’d know for sure Benjamin was safe if they weren’t with him personally, Marley hadn’t been able to give her an answer.
“We can talk about this later,” she said to him now.
“I thought we were going to be the type of parents who help him follow his dreams?” Marley shrugged.
“Marley,” Autumn said, warningly. But Marley wasn’t done.
“We all performed in shows every year from the age of four and we loved it, didn’t we, Maddie?”
“Not professionally, though,” Maddie pointed out. She was with Autumn on this one. Maddie thought Benjamin was too young. She was fiercely protective of him, and if it were up to her, he would never be out of the sight of a family member for the rest of his life.
“Does that matter?” Marley asked. “Benjamin isn’t going to know the difference, he’ll just be having fun.
He wants to do it and he’ll learn loads.
We’ll protect him from any pressure and anything that might cause him harm.
It’ll be better for him than sitting around at home in the evenings and at weekends. Maybe he’ll even tire himself out.”
Maddie knew that would be a compelling argument for Autumn because Benjamin was full of unquenchable curiosity at all times of the day and night.
Then there was of course Benjamin’s undeniable obsession with the theatre.
He watched performances on YouTube in his spare time and told everybody he wanted to be an actor.
He performed for his teddy bears in his room when he was supposed to be getting ready for bed.
Autumn’s parents had never shown any interest in her writing career, and Maddie suspected she would feel like she might be letting her son down if she didn’t foster his ambition.
There was also the little fact that she trusted Marley’s parental instincts much more than her own, due to their very different family backgrounds. She was likely going to relent.
“We’ll talk about this later,” she repeated, searching the crowd with her eyes for her son. Marley rolled his eyes at Maddie. She should squeeze his arm playfully, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wasn’t sure what was wrong specifically, but she was angry at him.
“You OK, Mads?” he asked, his eyes softening with concern.