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“Which gives them the right to be rude, does it?”
“No,” said Jim slowly. “But on the other hand, it wouldn’t do you any harm to be a bit more understanding, would it?”
Jules pursed her lips.
“Any other piano teachers wandering around the village?” asked Jim.
Jules rolled her eyes. “You know there’s not.”
“Not since Sue Lawton moved out,” he said comfortably. “Which means you need this Billie if you’re going to… what is it you’re planning on doing exactly?”
“Play the piano at a concert and romance the singer into going out with me,” said Jules stoutly as though it weren’t the most ridiculous idea in the world. Which it wasn’t, but only because she knew Alea.
“Right,” said Jim.
“Enough about my private life,” Jules said.
“You’re the one that came up here to complain,” her grandfather pointed out. “Not me. And there’s nothing to tell about my private life. Everything’s bobbing along just fine, thank you very much.”
Jules squinted around, looking for the group of old men that generally surrounded her grandfather and seeing none of them. “So, not planning a sequel to the Hatton Garden Heist then?” she asked.
“Cheeky. Nothing of the sort. I’m too old to be running from coppers and I’d rather die in my own bed than in a prison cell.”
“Mmm,” Jules said, doubting very much that her grandfather was behaving himself but having no evidence to the contrary.
“You’ve got yourself into a bind and you can’t afford to be so judgmental,” Jim said, eyeing her. “Must have taken guts to walk into that pub knowing that the whole village expected you to become something that you never became.”
Jules ran her tongue around her teeth. “Fine.”
He had a point, she supposed. Billie could be nicer about things though, more polite. It was the last time she was inviting the woman anywhere. Unless she promised to wear that shirt again, she thought with an internal grin. That was some shirt.
“Well then, you need her, so you know what you have to do.”
Jules groaned.
“It’s no use complaining to me, girl. You got yourself into this, nothing to do with me. She’s an integral part of your plan, losing your temper with her was a silly thing to do.”
“But she’s so… not nice.”
He shrugged. “So what? You’re not marrying the girl. You’re marrying a singer in a band or some such nonsense.”
“Alea is nice. You’ll like her.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said, glaring at her as though he wasn’t sure of anything of the sort. “But now you know what you need to do, don’t you?”
“Yes, granddad,” she said with a sigh. “I know what I have to do.”
Five minutes later she was walking back down the driveway from the home and muttering to herself.
Billie was turning out to be more of a problem than she’d anticipated. Why couldn’t she just be a sweet, mild, old piano teacher? With a cat, preferably. Jules liked cats.
But no, she was a moody, rude, apparent genius who’d shown no signs of genius in any conversation Jules had had with her.
All of which meant nothing, given that her grandfather was absolutely correct, she had no choice.
So she stomped back down to the village to apologize to Billie Brooke.
Chapter Fifteen
