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“Not that kind of trouble,” she hissed, looking around to see who else had heard. Fortunately, half the residents were deaf and no one was looking their way.
“Well, what then? I’ve still got some contacts, I can have a word in a few ears.”
“Yeah, I’m not really that sure that you can.” She sighed and sat back. “There’s this girl, see…”
When she’d finished the story and when Granddad Jim had finally stopped laughing, she didn’t feel any better than when she’d started.
“You’ve screwed the pooch on this one, as the Yanks say,” he said, still chuckling a bit. “You’ve made your bed though, so I suppose now you’ve got to lie in it.” He scratched his nose. “Don’t think there’s much I can do to help you, unless…”
“Unless what?” asked Jules, hope leaping in her heart.
“Well, unless you tell the truth, like.”
She shook her head. “Not helpful. I tell the truth now and Alea’s going to think that I’m an idiot and she’s never going to ma— I mean, go out with me.” She hadn’t told the whole truth, she wasn’t an idiot. Jim would laugh her out of town if she told him about mum’s prophesy.
“Not what I meant,” he said, a crafty look in his eyes. “Listen, it’s not often you’ll hear me say this, but sometimes the truth is just what the situation needs. You should tell this piano teacher of yours what you’re doing.”
“Why would I do that?” Jules asked in disbelief. “Telling you and Amelia and Cass was bad enough. I’ve had enough of being laughed at for one lifetime.”
“Because she needs to know,” he said simply. “See, there’s an advantage to keeping info to yourself, but not if someone needs to know that info to get the job done, right? This teacher of yours is teaching you to play the piano.”
“Right, she’s a piano teacher,” Jules said with an eye-roll.
“Yeah, except that’s not what you need to be able to do. You need to be able to play a song.”
Jules frowned for a second, letting the idea settle in. “Yeah, alright, I see what you’re saying. But she’s not exactly a loving, dedicated teacher. Even if I did tell her the truth, I don’t think she’d help me.”
“People do things for three reasons,” he said, counting them off on his fingers. “Because they want to, because they’re afraid not to, and because they’re paid to.”
“Right, well, she definitely doesn’t want to,” said Jules.
“And I’m not putting the fear of God in a woman,” her grandfather said. “Which leaves money. You still got that bit that I gave you set aside for the extra heating bills last winter?”
Jules nodded.
“There you go then. Find out her price and pay her,” said Jim, sitting back and looking pleased with himself.
“Maybe,” Jules allowed. “I’ll think about it.”
“It’s the only way you’ll get the job done,” he said. “Trust me.”
“I said I’ll think about it.”
“Fine. Now tell me why you’re orange.”
After a half hour conversation about why she was orange and just what exactly it was that Amelia and Cass were up to, it was getting close enough to dinner time that Jules could smell the scents of cooking.
“I’d better be going, I suppose,” she said.
“Hold on a minute,” said her grandfather. He raised a hand. “Lilian!”
An older woman with red lipstick and a stylish haircut looked over. “I’ve told you, Jim, I’m immune to your charms. I’m as queer as they come, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not flirting. I’ve got a need of your female skills,” he said.
Lilian said something to the woman who was sitting next to her and got up to come and join them. “What is it?” Then she caught sight of Jules. “Oh dear, been eating too many carrots, dear?”
“It wasn’t funny the first time I heard that,” Jules said.
