Page 109 of Before the Encore

“I try to keep on top of it. Ruby cooked, though. I can never get those hot dogs right,” she added sadly.

A new quiet settled in the air. Not uncomfortable, but new, trying on the room for size. She turned the token in her hand, feeling its weight sink in.

Ruby spoke first. “Shall I put the kettle on?”

“No, love.” Her mum patted her on the shoulder. “Let me.” She glanced towards Madison, hopeful. “Are you staying for a cup of tea?”

The question hung in the air, holding much more weight. She breathed heavy, her mind still catching up. It would take a lot more than a cup of tea to fix years’ worth of problems. She looked to Ruby, who seemed to be holding her breath.

Bonnie squeezed her hand.

“Okay.”

Her mum nodded, slipping past them in the small space to get to the kitchen.

Madison and Bonnie sat on the sofa, and Ruby let out a huge sigh, sitting beside them. Gran’s clock ticked away; the kettle hummed in the adjoining room.

Ruby picked up the photo album, flipping to the first page. “Bonnie, be honest. Who is the cutest baby? It’s me, right? Don’t be biased.”

Madison laughed, and Bonnie leaned into her. She planted a kiss on her forehead, something loosening and settling in her chest.

One step at a time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bonnie

Sunshine cast a golden glow across the music room at Thornberry Lodge. A fresh teapot sat on the coffee table, courtesy of Mel, and classical music played from the stereo in the corner. Beethoven. Bonnie smiled as her mum tapped her fingers against her knee, following the ebb and flow of the rubato. She often found her parents in the music room these days.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it; it was probably Bailey trying to get her attention—threatening to take her to court, sue her, or air her dirty laundry to the press.

She tried not to worry too much; Bailey was also bound by NDAs. Any attempts to follow through on those threats opened the floodgates for her own lawsuit. But his attempts to contact her were increasing by the day, and she wasn’t overly eager for a headline scandal.

The orchestra on the track quietened, allowing the violinist to launch into the cadenza—a solo passage that highlighted their individual technical brilliance. Bonnie closed her eyes, letting the music speak to her. Gentle arpeggios gradually climbed higher, each phrase gathering momentum.

“Nora.” Her mum laughed suddenly, eyes brightening. “Did I tell you about the time I tried to teach you to play violin?”

Bonnie had heard the story plenty of times, but she loved to hear Mum tell it. She sipped from her mug of tea, catching her dad’s smile.

“You were always interested in music, even as a little girl. When I practised violin in my room, you came in and made up songs to the tunes.”

Bonnie laughed, wishing Madison was here to hear it. But she was busy with Lipstick Fever, preparing for their launch party tonight.

Her mum continued, her speech slow, “I borrowed a children’s violin from the orchestra and sat down to teach you how to hold it.” Her eyes glinted with the memory. “But when I tucked it under your chin and guided your bow across the strings, you turned to me with this look of horror on your face.” She glanced at her dad, amusement passing between them. “And you said, ‘Mummy, I can’t sing like this’.

“You handed me my violin, ordered me to play, and fetched your dad to come and watch the performance.” She beamed. “I always knew you’d be a star, Nora.”

Bonnie smiled. “I wish I had tried more with violin. It’s such a wonderful instrument.”

“It’s not too late. I can give you a lesson after work. I’m just about to start tour with the London Symphonies but after that, I can fit you in.”

Even on the good days, the reminders were never far away. “That would be great,” she said softly. “Thanks, Mum.”

Bonnie took another sip of her tea, lukewarm now. Her phone vibrated again in her pocket.

When Mel came to fetch her parents for dinner, Bonnie said her goodbyes and stepped outside into the car park. The warmth of the sun hit her face. She sighed, feeling lighter, fresher than she had in years. Her ankle had healed, the ugly shoes in the bin along with her controlling manager, and things were looking up.

Then her phone buzzed again. She wasn’t out of the woods yet—though Malcolm assured her that Bailey’s communications wouldn’t reflect well on him in court if he chose to pursue anything. If that’s what it came to, so be it. This was her music, her career, her choices.