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Billie was having trouble identifying her feelings. Not an altogether new experience for her. So in response to Jules walking out she was devouring a package of custard cremes that she’d found in the cupboard. And thinking.
At the very least she was guilty of being childish. Some part of her must have blamed Jules for dragging her to the pub, some part of her must have trusted that Jules would take care of her. Although the woman had no obligation to, clearly.
All of this was just so stupid. Coming back to Whitebridge was stupid. And any response that people had to her here was entirely her own fault. But Amelia and Cass hadn’t been totally right. Billie hadn’t thought that she was better than everyone else. She’d thought she was different from everyone else. Not at all the same thing.
Then insulting Jules on top of all that. Why had she done it? Why had she behaved like a moody teenager? All Jules had done was invite her somewhere, actually been nice, unlike most other people. Then Billie poked at her until she lost her temper and left.
Apart from anything else, Jules was supposed to be paying her.
And she had been friendly.
Billie sighed and took another biscuit, wishing that she didn’t have to deal with this, wishing that she understood people better, understood herself better. Even she could see that insulting Jules’s choice of song wasn’t a way to make friends.
She groaned and laid her head back against the sofa. She should apologize, she could see that. No, she had to apologize. She’d been horrible and infantile and, and, and… She couldn’t think of anything else she’d been except a bitch and that was hardly new for Billie Brooke, was it?
When the knock came at the door she was cradling a full stomach and wishing that perhaps she’d been slightly smarter in her dinner choices.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, and when she opened the door to find Jules standing there in the early autumn evening light she wasn’t at all sure how she was supposed to feel.
“I’ve come to apologize,” Jules said briskly.
“Oh,” was all Billie said, all thoughts of apologizing herself momentarily going AWOL.
“Can I come in then?”
Billie nodded and stood back to let Jules inside.
“Biscuits for dinner?” Jules said when she saw the wrapper on the coffee table in the living room. She held up both hands as Billie was about to protest. “Hey, no judgment here, I’ve made worse decisions than that.”
“Coffee?” Billie tried. “Tea?”
“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Jules said, parking herself in the armchair and nodding at Billie.
Billie sat down on the couch, her mouth dry. “Er, about that, I should—”
“No, let me get this done,” said Jules. “Right, so, last night. I was a bit peeved when you walked out like that, to be honest.” She held up her hands again and Billie closed her mouth. “I know that Am and Cass were a bit much, but they’re like that with everyone, they tease. They took things too far but they didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve had a word with them.”
“It’s not your job to defend me,” Billie said, even though just a minute ago she was thinking that she’d trusted Jules to look after her.
“It’s not, you’re right,” agreed Jules. “On the other hand, coming back here can’t have been easy on you and I can see why you might not be comfortable walking into a pub. I could have been more considerate.”
Billie blew out a breath. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said because it wasn’t.
“It feels like you thought it was. When I came here this afternoon you were… snippier than usual. Not very nice, to be honest.”
“I have things on my mind,” Billie said. Like the future. Like Agatha Browning. Like why exactly she was so upset that Jules hadn’t done more to protect her at the pub. Like why she was so irritated and out of sorts.
“Be that as it may, you were unprofessional. Which is probably what all this comes down to.”
“Being professional?” Billie asked, surprised.
“Don’t you think?” Jules crossed her legs and sat back in the armchair.
For the first time, Billie really looked at her. She was lithe, more athletic looking than she’d have expected. Her body was almost boyish, but then it rounded up into that sharp, determined face, blonde hair tickling at her cheeks, dark eyes flashing. For a moment, Jules looked so natural sitting there, so right, so fitting.
“Listen,” said Jules. “We don’t have to be friends. We have an arrangement here, don’t we? I need something from you, and you’re getting money from me. The idea that we have to hang out in any way or even be anything other than civil is by the by. We should be professional.”
Billie swallowed, a hardness settling into her stomach. Jules was basically saying she didn’t want to be friends. Which she supposed was fair enough except… Except, other than Ava, Jules was the only other person in town she really spoke to. The only other person in town over the age of twelve anyway.
