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The song came to an end, Billie drew her bow across the last note, letting it linger. The pub was almost full by now, and the applause was loud and raucous. Just what she needed. She closed her eyes as Alea thanked the audience and then paused.
“As it happens,” Alea said into the mic. “We have a special guest with us tonight.”
Now or never, Billie’s heartbeat said. Now or never.
Legs shaking she put her violin down and walked to the microphone. It seemed like everyone in town was here. Well, maybe that was a good thing.
“Many…” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Many of you know me already.”
There was silence but for rustles of clothing.
“My name is Billie Brooke. I was born here. And now I’ve come back.”
She closed her eyes, took a breath. This wasn’t going to work unless she was a hundred percent honest.
“I’ve come back to Whitebridge because I couldn’t make it in London. Too much competition. Too many people who were just a fraction better than me. I couldn’t make it because I wasn’t quite good enough.”
There. She’d said the words. And people were starting to mutter now.
“So I’ve come back here, back to Whitebridge. Back home.”
For an instant there was just silence. Then one person started to clap, then another, until everyone was applauding and Billie’s eyes opened in shock. She breathed out, signaled for quiet.
“Because this is home, or at least I’d like to make it home.” She breathed in again, still not looking at the bar. “And I’d like to say that’s because I know I will be safe here, and I know I will be welcomed here. But the truth of the matter is that the last time I lived here I wasn’t exactly a credit to the community. Something I’m determined to change this time around.”
There was a cheer and she felt something burning up inside her, a sense of welcome, a sense of belonging. Why had she ever worried about doing this? About showing her face? And it was this that gave her the courage to continue.
“There’s a little more,” she said.
“Out with it, love,” shouted someone jovially from the front row.
“Well, the thing is, I’d rather like to stay in Whitebridge for another reason,” she said.
There was silence now and everyone was watching her.
“Because someone else lives here. Someone else who’s an integral part of your community. You see, someone very important lives here.” There was a heartbeat of silence. “The woman I love.”
Chapter Thirty Five
It wasn’t done with any thought. For a second, Jules was frozen on the spot as her heart swelled and filled and the world started to sparkle around her, then she was acting, moving, bounding even.
Five minutes later she was sitting in the back room of the pub on a beer keg, leg propped up with handfuls of ice cubes around it.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” Max Browning said doubtfully.
“That leaping over the bar thing only works in the films,” Josh grumbled. “Now you’ve got half my ice bucket poured over you.”
“Leave her alone,” said Amelia. She turned to Max. “You’re a policeman, what do you know about broken ankles?”
“We do have to qualify in first aid,” Max said, stung. He looked up at Jules, who was still trying to control her reactions to the throbbing pain in her ankle and the fact that everyone in the village had seen her attempt to jump over the bar into Billie’s arms and fail. “Want me to get the doc over to have a look?”
“I wouldn’t,” said Josh with a sniff. “He’s well into his fourth G and T by now.”
“I’ll drive her to the hospital,” Amelia said. “I’ve only had a couple.”
“Oh no you won’t,” said Josh. “We’ve got a zero tolerance policy for drinking and driving. I suppose I’ll have to drive her over since I’m likely the only one in here that hasn’t had a pint.” He looked around at them all. “Which means one of you will have to take over behind the bar.”
“Don’t look at me,” said Max. “I’m officially on duty right now.”
