Chapter Nineteen #3
Maddie didn’t answer right away. She was too busy basking in the joy she felt at having Pip home so often.
He was doing so not just to help her out, but also in order to spend time with Bluebell and their parents before they left for Venice.
Their impending departure made Maddie feel nervous.
Soon, there would be Whittles spread all over the place, and the house would be virtually empty.
She swallowed hard, resolving to worry about how much she would miss them later.
This was supposed to be a happy time. “Yes, we have a name. Didn’t I tell you? ” she asked. Pip shook his head.
Benjamin stopped painting, peering down at his uncle. “A name for what, Uncle Pip?” he asked.
“For this house,” Pip said. “When Aunty Maddie opens her special hotel, it’ll need a proper name.”
Benjamin looked concerned. Maddie laughed.
“You can still call it ‘the big house’ if you want to, Benjamin,” Maddie reassured him. His eyes lit up and he graced her with the dopey grin she loved, the one he had inherited somehow from the uncle he’d never met. How appropriate, given what she had decided to name the retreat.
“We’re calling it ‘Bowie’s Place’,” she said.
Pip’s face broke into a smile, his eyes filling with tears.
Maddie grinned. Every Whittle she’d told had been overwhelmed at the sentimentality of the gesture.
“It just felt right, somehow. I’m doing all of this in his memory and using the money he left me, after all.
I can’t believe I didn’t tell you! James and I came up with it a few weeks ago. ”
Actually, she had suggested it and James had agreed it was a good idea. Despite his impending departure, this had somehow become their project. She trusted his business sense and appreciated his instincts.
“But I like calling it the big house,” Benjamin whined, shattering the moment. Pip and Maddie laughed.
“This will always be the big house,” Pip said, lifting Benjamin off his shoulders and stepping back to admire the terrible job he had done with the painting. “Nice work, buddy. Go and find your daddy, would you? I need to talk to Aunty Maddie.”
Benjamin nodded and ran from the room, paintbrush still in hand. Maddie closed her eyes, praying her nephew did not drop it anywhere or rub it up against anything. She did not have the energy for any more fixing. When she opened her eyes, Pip was watching her, clearly concerned.
“What?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“You know what,” he said. Maddie sighed, shaking her head. “Is there any point in me trying?” he asked. “Have you really made up your mind, Maddie?”
Maddie nodded, resolute. She didn’t feel anxious about this conversation. Pip was doing his brotherly duty. He’d most likely been encouraged to come and talk to her by their mother. He would take Maddie’s answer as the absolute truth, and wouldn’t hassle her too hard about it.
“Then I’m not going to do you the disservice of distrusting you, or bother wasting my time,” he said, heading for the door.
“Thank you,” Maddie called after him.
Pip stopped suddenly, turning back to look at her.
“Don’t thank me, Mads,” he said, gently.
“I don’t think I’m doing you a favour by letting you put yourself last again.
There’s safety in predictability, I understand that.
You can control the pain that doesn’t get to take you by surprise the way it did when Bowie died — but you lose so much other stuff. Stuff I think it’s worthwhile having.”
Maddie winced. Bowie’s death had not taken her by surprise in the slightest. She had been there, had orchestrated it, and yet the pain she had felt had been debilitating.
She could not imagine how hard it would have been had she gone to bed with everyone else and woken up to find him gone.
So, yes, perhaps she really was trying to avoid the type of heartbreak that takes people by surprise, because she had never felt it, and she honestly didn’t know how she would ever survive it.
Pip faltered, shuffling uncomfortably. He drew in a deep breath, and continued.
“I think you’re making a massive mistake, Mads.
I feel uncomfortable saying that, but I have to.
You know I’ve always accepted that you know best what you want for yourself.
I’ve never argued with you, not once. But I need to tell you that I think you’re doing the wrong thing.
And I want to remind you it’s not too late.
James is desperate for you to ask him to stay. ”
Somehow, Maddie knew he was not done, so she waited, watching him, wondering how he’d grown up so suddenly right before her eyes without her noticing it.
“You could insist you’re only changing your mind to prevent Marley from wrecking the house with his terrible DIY skills,” he said, eventually.
“I was downstairs earlier and James was trying to teach him how to hang a picture... Maddie, this is not hyperbole — we will have no house left if you let this go on for too long.”
Maddie laughed, wiping away the tears falling from her eyes.
She was upset not because of what Pip had said, but because of the way he’d said it.
He sounded like Bowie, both in the tone of his voice and the sentiment in his words, and she knew for certain in that moment that if Bowie were there he would be saying the same thing in the same way — gently, with a hint of humour to soothe her ego.
That realisation hurt her. She had trusted Bowie implicitly. The way she trusted Pip.
Her little brother sighed, smiling kindly. “Promise me you’ll really think about this?” he said, eyeing her with obvious fondness.
Maddie smiled back, and nodded. “I will. I promise.”
To her surprise, for the first time since this nightmare had started, she found she actually meant it.