Page 65 of Before the Encore

Madison’s gruff voice answered, “So, your phone does work.”

“Hah. Yeah…” A squirrel dashed across the car park, bushy tail swishing before it scampered up a tree.

She shouldn’t have called Madison. What was she thinking?

Madison yawned, and Bonnie pulled her ear from the speaker.

Bonnie glanced at the clock. 09:43. “Did I wake you?”

“You did.”

She closed her eyes, picturing Madison on her side, bare leg straddling the duvet like the night she’d stayed over. “Sorry.”

When Bonnie didn’t say anything else, ruffling came through the line. Madison cleared her throat. “Is everything alright?”

Bonnie chewed her lip, unsure how to answer.

“Bonnie,” Madison said with sudden urgency. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Not physically, anyway. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m calling you.”

“You do. What’s up? Where are you?”

She hesitated, taking in the building before her. “Thornberry Manor Care Home.”

“Okay. Give me two minutes.”

Bonnie’s lips lifted, surprised how easily she agreed. Panic chased it. “It’s about a thirty-minute drive. Don’t worry if you can’t—”

“I’ll get an Uber.” More rustling crackled down the line, followed by a bang. “Shit!” Madison groaned. “I just stubbed my toe on Kam’s suitcase.” Bonnie laughed, and she practically heard Madison’s eyes roll on the other end of the phone. “I’m pleased my misfortune amuses you. Send me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bonnie texted the address, and they hung up. In the new silence filling the car, she found herself smiling. The light feeling tangled into nerves, and she considered calling her back to cancel. Stop being a coward, she chastised herself.

Needing a distraction while she waited, Bonnie peeked at her social media. Most of the time, she avoided the mountains of comments, leaving its management to her social media team. She learned early on that she needed to grow a thick skin, but she still hadn’t adapted. She browsed through her tagged section, where hundreds of fans had shared videos and photos from the recent shows. Flicking through the pictures, her smile widened at shots of her and Madison together on stage. Bonnie’s hair flicked over her shoulder as Madison circled her with a grin, microphone clutched in her grip. When they’d worked on the choreography for ‘Ghost’, Bonnie had no idea it would reflect their relationship so closely. The two of them circling the other, coming close before falling away again. Like sharks swarming their prey, fearing the first bite might be laced with poison.

She read the caption of a post.

‘The problem with me is I wear my heart on my sleeve // You’ve got walls, but I see how you look at me’ #moomforever

Bonnie pinched the screen, zooming in on Madison’s face. There was a…look. Maybe her Blossoms were onto something there. Though the lyrics were taken from a song from her second album. It was strange to read a song written about someone else, used to describe her and Madison. Especially when a message from that particular person still sat unread in her inbox.

Olivia chased the spotlight. It was no surprise to hear more from her when Bonnie was doing well. In classic Olivia fashion, she expected Bonnie to drop everything to accommodate her and welcome her with open arms.

What Olivia wants, she gets.

But these fake relationships, the valuable contacts, they drained her. Not only that, but they muddled every line between pretend and real. It was easier not to do anything, less risk being made a fool of in the papers.

Bonnie hadn’t realised quite how lonely her life had become before Madison stormed right into it.

She closed the app with a swipe. Bonnie had other matters to address first.

Sometime later, a black Prius hummed up the lane, coming to a stop outside the front doors. Bonnie’s heart kicked as Madison’s long legs stepped out. Tight black jeans hugged her thighs, and a neat burgundy plaid shirt fit snug over her shoulders.

Bonnie switched off her calming meditation, uttered her mantra, and checked her reflection in the mirror. Madison waved off the Uber, striding towards the care home entrance.

She clunked the car door open and hissed, “Madison, over here.”

Madison turned, lips curling into a smile. Bonnie’s boots clicked until they met in the middle of the car park. Madison’s gaze drifted over Bonnie’s simple T-shirt and jeans with appreciation before landing back on her eyes. The wind rustled through the leaves, neither of them saying anything. Bonnie hated how awkward the topic of dementia made people, but she couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t really anything to say to make it better.