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“What things?” Amelia asked suspiciously.
“Life things,” Jules said. She really didn’t want to tell them about the piano lessons. Really, really didn’t want to tell them. She was suddenly embarrassed by the whole thing for reasons she couldn’t define.
Alright, so her first lesson hadn’t been a stunning success. But it was only the first time. It was sure to get better, wasn’t it?
“Oh, you mean your piano lessons,” Cass said, nodding sagely.
“For God’s sake,” Jules groaned. “Does everyone know everything around here?”
“Nope, but we stopped by the pub when we got done yesterday and Josh told us you were at your piano lesson,” Amelia said. “Which you kept very secret, didn’t you?”
“I s’pose,” said Jules.
She sighed. She didn’t want to be the butt of the joke today.
“Cheer up,” said Cass. “There’s nothing wrong with learning the piano. It’s good to have a hobby.”
“I thoroughly agree,” Amelia said, perching on the arm of the couch. “However, my question isn’t so much about you playing the piano as why you’ve decided to learn now? I mean, you haven’t exactly shown much musical aptitude, have you?”
Jules looked from Cass to Amelia and back again and just gave up. “Fine, but you’ve got to promise not to laugh.”
Both women nodded and crossed their hearts, so Jules told them.
When they were done laughing and had wiped their tears away, Amelia patted her on the head. “You’re a softie.”
“She’s a liar,” Cass pointed out. “Still, no harm done, I suppose.”
“Except that I need to play a whole song on the piano in less than six weeks,” Jules said, closing her eyes in despair.
“Well, you’ve made your bed and now you’ll need to lie in it,” said Amelia. “Or tell the truth, I suppose.” She picked up two of the bottles that were in a box next to the couch. “I need to mix this stuff in the bathroom. Come on, Cass, we should do this together.”
“Wait, why do you need to mix stuff?” Jules asked, sitting up straighter.
Cass turned to Amelia. “Um…”
Amelia shrugged. “You know what would make you feel better?” she asked.
“Make you feel like a star, like your best self,” added Cass.
“A spray tan,” they chorused together.
“Oh no,” Jules began. But they were already fleeing the room with their bottles and a box of gloves.
Jules lay back on the couch.
She could be honest, she supposed. But then, what would Alea think? She couldn’t stand the idea of letting her down. And she’d only had one lesson. Maybe it took a while to sort of get in the swing of things. Maybe she was actually very musical. Maybe it ran in the blood.
If only she had someone here to ask. Like her mum, for example.
Her memories of her mother weren’t that distinct. In fact, nowadays, her mum’s face tended to morph into Amelia’s when she concentrated too hard. It wasn’t that she’d been a bad mum, or at least Jules didn’t think that she had been.
She’d tried, that was what she honestly thought. She’d tried for as long and as hard as she could and then, when she couldn’t try anymore, she’d left. Left to where was anyone’s guess. They got cards now and then, usually around Christmas and Jules wondered if she actually remembered when their birthdays were.
She wasn’t angry about it, not like Amelia was. She was just sort of… fatalistic, she supposed. It had happened, there was no making it unhappen, and life hadn’t turned out so badly. It was hard to miss something that you didn’t really remember having that much.
Besides, there was the secret hope. The hope that what her mum had said was real, that she’d be married and then mum would come back because she might not remember the date of her birthday, but she’d remember the year, wouldn’t she? And she’d know that Jules was turning thirty so she’d come back, maybe just for a day, just to see the family that Jules was building, just to see that her prediction had come true.
“Alright then,” Amelia said, coming back into the room brandishing the spray bottle thing. “On your feet and strip off.”
