Chapter Three
“H ave you got a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Or both?” The girl looked at Tilly with her head tilted and a curious face.
“Ag, we don’t ask questions like that,” said a woman with blue hair, presumably the child’s mother and Max’s wife.
“Why not?” asked Ag. “I want to know, and it must be better to ask someone than it would be to talk behind their back. Right?” She directed the last question to Tilly, who was already feeling very out of her depth.
“Maybe,” Tilly said carefully.
“See, I told you,” Ag crowed to her mother. “So, which is it? I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. My mum’s married to my dad. But my auntie Ant is married to my auntie Ad, and my teacher Mrs. Brooke is married to Jules at the pub, so really, it doesn’t matter. I think that when I grow up, I won’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, though.” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I’ll have a piano.”
“I see,” said Tilly, suddenly feeling like she was very unqualified to have this conversation.
“I’m sorry,” said the blue-haired woman. “I’m Mila, Max’s wife, and this is Agatha. She’s nine and precocious.”
“Am not,” Agatha said.
Mila ignored her and smiled at Tilly. “And you must be Tilly. We’re glad to have you.” Just as she was saying this, a small boy came rocketing into the kitchen.
“Mum, mum, mum, mum!”
“What, what, what, what?”
He stopped and then looked at Tilly. “You’re very pretty.”
“Um, thank you?” hazarded Tilly.
“You’re welcome,” he beamed. He turned to his mother. “Mum, I finished my lunch and I’m ready to go.”
“And this is Dash, Dashiell technically,” said Mila.
“But I can’t spell that,” put in the boy.
“Right.” Mila pulled a face at Tilly. “They should both be in school, but we had the dentist this morning. I’m just about to take them back. Where’s Max?”
“Right here,” Max said, coming into the kitchen. “Sorry, I just caught Dave outside. Have we all met?”
“Yes,” said Dash. “She’s pretty.”
“I think that might be verging on sexual harassment,” Mila said. “These two need to be back at school.”
“I’ll take them,” said Max. “You show Tilly where to put her things.” He turned to Tilly and winked. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
A tornado-like moment later and Tilly was left alone with Mila who sighed and smiled. “They’re a lot,” Mila said. “But they’re good kids, really. And I promise you won’t have to see them all the time. Come on, let me show you where you’re staying.”
Tilly, who was starting to get slightly concerned, followed Mila through the house. This was all starting to look far too much like some kind of school exchange trip.
“Here,” Mila said, opening up a door onto a small stairway. “There’s a small apartment here. You’ve got your own little kitchen and a bathroom as well. This door locks, so you’ll have your privacy, and there’s a door out back to the garden, so you won’t even have to come through the house if you don’t want to.”
Tilly lightened with relief. So she wasn’t actually going to be staying with her boss’s family. “Thank you,” she said.
“Not at all,” said Mila, starting up the stairs. “I’m sorry that you can’t be a bit more independent, but there just aren’t that many flats in Whitebridge. Property prices are getting quite impossible. But at least this way you’ll have a roof over your head.”
“It’s very kind,” Tilly said, lugging her suitcase behind her.
“And you don’t have to come through the house,” Mila said again. “But we’re rather hoping you might. You’re welcome for dinner any time you like, and just pop down if you need something. It’s really no trouble.”
She opened up another door into a small but light room with a bed in one corner, a kitchen in another, a small couch, and a very large bookcase.
“That’s a lot of books,” said Tilly.
Mila grinned. “I’m half-owner of the bookshop on the high street, the Queens of Crime? It’s a crime only bookshop, you should pop in sometime and see if there’s anything you like. Max always complains that the books aren’t realistic enough. Too much murder and too little paperwork, he says.”
Tilly stood her suitcase by the door. “Is there a lot of crime in the area?” she asked.
Mila sighed. “More and more, I’m afraid. We’re a lovely little village, and I’m sure you’ll find that everyone here is really nice. But we’re not immune to the world. We have our issues just like anywhere else.” She gave Tilly a shrewd look. “Worried you won’t have enough to do?”
Tilly found that she quite liked Mila. She gave a guilty grin. “Maybe a bit concerned.”
“Don’t be,” said Mila. “I’ve been married to Max long enough to know that there’s plenty to be done here.”
Tilly sort of wanted to ask what kind of policeman Max was. From what she’d seen so far, she wasn’t exactly impressed. The law was the law, as far as she was concerned, and no police officer should be able to flex that law to please his own needs.
Not that she thought Max was corrupt or anything. But maybe policing here in a small community, he’d become a little lazy, a little out of touch with modern methods. She brightened up at this. She could be the one to teach him better, to show him better, she thought.
“Mil, Officer Ware!”
“That’ll be Max now,” Mila said. “The school’s only just down the road.” She turned to Tilly and grinned. “Ready for your first day of work?”
Tilly grinned right back. “I was born ready.”
Mila laughed. “Get to it then, girl. I’ll have dinner ready when you get home if you can deal with my hellion children for an hour or so. Nothing fancy, but it’ll be a hot meal.”
Tilly found herself nodding. She might not be terribly comfortable with the whole family meal idea, but she definitely saw the advantages in a solid home-cooked dinner.
“AFTERNOON, SYLV,” MAX said, waving at a rotund woman outside the shop.
“Afternoon, Max. And who’s this then?”
“New constable,” Max said. “Constable Ware, meet Sylv, shop owner, rabble rouser, and all around hardened criminal.”
The jolly looking woman laughed. “Don’t listen to him,” she said, shaking Tilly’s hand. “But I do run the shop. Just you come in if there’s anything you need.” A customer rapped on the counter inside. “Best be off,” she said.
They were just walking away from the shop when a harried-looking woman with a long ponytail rushed out of the post office, almost colliding with them.
“Jesus, sorry, Max.”
“Not a problem.” Max smiled. “Hope, this is Constable Ware, new in town. And Constable Ware, this is Hope. She’s the secretary over at the school, which makes her by far the most important person in the entire building.”
Hope laughed. “Have at you,” she said, but she was blushing. “Pleased to meet you,” she said politely to Tilly. “And I’ve got to be off. Ava’s doing painting with the lower infants and there’ll be blue walls if I’m not there to help keep an eye on things.”
“Do you know everyone in town?” Tilly asked as they moved on down the street.
“More or less,” Max said comfortably. “I came here fifteen years ago now. Settled down, got married, couldn’t think of leaving.”
Tilly scratched her nose and then cleared her throat. She’d always been taught that asking questions was a good thing, but she wasn’t sure how Max might feel about that.
“Something on your mind?” asked Max.
“Just… Well, isn’t it a bit difficult to be the long arm of the law when all these people are your friends?” Tilly asked.
Max stopped in the middle of the pavement in thought. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “I mean, first of all, most of Whitebridge aren’t exactly criminals. Secondly, if I didn’t make friends here, I wouldn’t have any friends at all. And thirdly, well, I’d like to think that if the worst happened, then I’d do the right thing. I might be a more caring officer than others might like. It might sadden me to arrest someone I know and love. But if Sylv ends up murdering her lodger, I’ll be the one to clamp the handcuffs on.”
Tilly wasn’t so sure about this, but she nodded. “Okay, makes sense.”
“Policing a small community is different from policing in a city,” Max said as they walked. “You’ll see. It’s more… flexible, perhaps, and there’s more community care involved. But it’s rewarding in its own way, even if it isn’t all chasing bank robbers down.”
“Right.” Tilly’s stomach tightened a little. It just sounded like a lot of paperwork and not much else. Maybe a walk every lunchtime to say hello to people. Hardly high-profile policing.
They turned a corner and were suddenly engulfed in a wave of children.
“Afternoon, Max,” said a tall, bearded man.
“Ah, this is Frank Meyer, teacher of the upper Juniors, the oldest kids at the school,” Max said. “And Frank, this is Tilly Ware.”
“Nice to meet you. We’re just off to the playing fields for a game of football,” Frank said.
“I’m going to be goalie,” piped up a familiar voice. Tilly looked down to see Agatha Browning bouncing up and down in shorts and a striped t-shirt. “And guess what, dad?” she said, still bouncing. “Ms. Brooke is starting a choir and I can’t even join in it, even if I’m the best at music in the whole school.” She looked annoyed.
Frank Meyer raised an eyebrow. “That would be the contentious point of the day,” he said more quietly. “Sorry, I don’t know where she heard it, but she’s not happy. I’m sure that you and Mila are going to have to put up with a lot of complaining tonight.”
“Is it true?” asked Max.
Frank nodded. “Billy Brooke is starting a village choir. There’s a notice on the board outside the school. First rehearsal’s tomorrow night at the village hall. Should be fun. Are you up for it?”
“Not me,” Max laughed. “I only sing in the bath.”
“And he’s terrible,” put in Ag.
“What about you, Constable Ware?” Frank asked.
For a second, Tilly thought about it. She did like music, she’d sung in the police choir in training college. And… and this was community policing. If that was what she was here to learn about, then that’s what she was going to do. What better way to become a part of the community? If Max was right, this was how she was supposed to be doing this job.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think that sounds like fun.”