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“No,” said Billie, surprising herself with the force with which the word came out. “I’m sorry, but no.”
She could hear Mila sigh. “I thought you’d be too busy,” she said, still sounding friendly and not at all put out.
“It’s not that,” Billie said, looking at Jules and drawing strength from her standing there, standing up for Agatha in a way that no one had ever stood up for her. And she remembered that Jules had no one to stand up for her like this, no mum to protect her, or, for that matter, to mess her up.
She wanted to hold Jules, wanted to keep her close.
“It’s not?” asked Mila.
“It’s not,” Billie confirmed. “Listen, I appreciate that Agatha is enthusiastic, but she’s far too young to take anything this seriously. I’m happy to teach her once a week, but if you wouldn’t mind a suggestion, I’d get her involved in something else too. Netball maybe, or coding. Whatever. Something so that she has some choices in life.”
For a moment there was quiet, and Billie thought she’d done the wrong thing, but then Mila was agreeing with her. “That’s a great idea,” Mila was saying and Billie’s heart was returning to its normal speed. “You’re right, of course. I’ll look into that. Thanks, Billie. I’ll see you tomorrow for Ag’s normal lesson?”
“Yes, sure, of course,” Billie said, slightly shocked that things had gone so easily.
“Nothing wrong with speaking your mind,” Jules said as Billie hung up the phone. “For what it’s worth, you did the right thing.”
Billie nodded. But she knew she’d only done it because Jules was standing right there. Because something about Jules made everything okay, made everything easier and better and… And maybe this was what things were supposed to be like.
Not tip-toeing around, walking on eggshells like she’d always had to do with Cora.
Maybe life really could be this easy.
“That smells amazing,” Jules was saying, lifting up the lid on the pot on the stove.
“There’s onions and garlic as well as anchovies,” Billie said carefully. Cora had always been picky with food and this time she’d cooked without thinking, without even considering what Jules might like or not like.
“Fine by me, I could eat a horse,” Jules said cheerfully. She glanced over at the sink. “Shall I start washing up while you finish cooking?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, just got down to business, and after a second of hesitation, Billie went back to finishing the meal.
For another half hour they danced around each other in the kitchen, never bumping into each other, Jules always at hand with a clean towel or a fork for tasting. As they working, Jules told Billie about her grandfather and his life and Billie listened with half an ear as she boiled pasta and thickened up the sauce.
Until Jules was holding out plates to be filled and Billie was telling her about a disastrous orchestra she’d played with in Amsterdam, and the light was getting dimmer and the house was warm and for once life was soft and sweet and so very easy.
BILLIE’S ARM WAS under Jules’s head and she was starting to get pins and needles but she didn’t want to move.
“You should join the book club,” Jules was saying. “Mila runs it from the shop, and it’s a riot.” She looked down at her watch. “It’s only half past six, we can still make it if you want to go.”
“Wouldn’t me not having read the book be a problem?” Billie asked, the weight of Jules in her arms too precious to let go of.
“Huh, yeah, maybe,” Jules said. She looked up at Billie, her eyes dark and dancing. “Sure you just don’t want to go because you’re being Billie?”
Billie sighed. “Maybe? But I am going to make an effort, I promise you. I’m here for now, so I’m going to make peace with that.”
“Not everyone’s out to get you,” Jules said, propping herself up on one elbow. “And what do you mean you’re here for now?”
Her anger was tempting, so tempting. Billie was really starting to see how this might work, how it could work. If she could only let herself believe that it could. “Well, there is the question of work,” she started, making the first excuse she could think of.
“There are orchestras around here, I’m sure.”
“Mmm,” Billie said, distracted by the smooth slope of Jules’s neck.
“What? You won’t play for a little regional orchestra? Billie Brooke’s too good for that?” Jules demanded. Her phone rang and she rolled her eyes. “We’re not done with this discussion,” she said as she got up and went out in the hallway to answer the call.
Billie sighed. Her reluctance had nothing to do with orchestras regional or otherwise, and everything to do with the fact that she just didn’t know if she could do it any more. Playing for Jules was one thing, playing for an audience quite another. Every time she even entertained the idea, all she could hear was Cora telling her she wasn’t quite good enough.
Still, there was teaching work here, and more and more private students were calling her. She could make a decent living in Whitebridge if she chose to stay. And the thought of Jules’s face made her want to stay, for the first time made her want to start to build something real.
