Chapter Nine
“I f you bolt your tea like that, you’re going to get indigestion,” Paul Farmer said.
“Dad, I’m not five,” said Sophie, stabbing three chips with her fork.
“Then stop eating like it,” retorted her father.
“I’m just in a hurry. I’ve got choir rehearsal.” She felt a shuddering down her back when she said this. Nothing to do with the thought of singing.
“Oh, do you indeed?” Her father sniffed and considered a chip. “I might pop by myself one of these days and give the old vocal chords a work-out.”
“Dad!” said Sophie in horror. Then he winked, and she saw that he was joking. “Don’t tease. Did you get those invoices sorted?”
“Yeah,” said her dad. “Gio, what about that Renault? Could you patch the muffler or not?”
A clear change of subject then, which was fine by her. She stabbed another chip, chewed, swallowed, then got up. “Sorry, boys. I’ve got to get ready. Gio can clear the table, right, dad?”
“Right,” said her dad.
Sophie went back upstairs, thinking how quickly she’d reverted to her old ways once she’d come home. It was all very well for her dad to tell her that she wasn’t five, but sometimes it seemed like it.
It wasn’t healthy for grown adults to live with their parents like this. But then, she didn’t exactly have many options. Not many that would still allow her to make sure everyone was okay and work at the garage.
So maybe, the voice in her head said, you should work somewhere else.
Maybe she should. She sighed. Her dad wouldn’t be happy. But more money would come in handy and then, one day, maybe she could get a little place of her own. Mind you, with property prices being what they were, it’d be one day about seventy years from now and she might move in just in time to move back out to the old folk’s home.
She pulled on some jeans and surveyed her wardrobe. Something nice, but not too nice. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. She puffed out her cheeks, pulled out a clean t-shirt and then threw her leather jacket on top. There. Simple, classic, and… what would Tilly be wearing?
She thought about that. Then, to be honest, thought about Tilly not wearing certain things, then there was a shout from downstairs.
“Thought you were going out?” bellowed Gio.
Shit. Right. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
“Only the bar staff are here chasing after you,” he shouted back.
Sophie stuck her phone in her pocket and ran down the stairs to see Jules lounging by the front door. “Didn’t know you were picking me up,” she said.
“Neither did I, but it was on the way,” Jules said, casting a wary eye toward the living room where Gio and Sophie’s dad were now ensconced in front of the football.
“Right,” said Sophie. “Bye dad, bye Gio, don’t wait up.”
There were a couple of grunts in response and Sophie could see through to the kitchen where dirty plates still lay on the table. She sighed, but this wasn’t her problem right now. She opened the door and she and Jules went out into the night.
“So?” Jules said, when the front door was closed.
“So what?” said Sophie.
Jules clicked her tongue. “Do you really think I didn’t notice you making eyes at that policewoman all night? And then you don’t even come into the pub to tell me about it? I thought we were friends.”
“Oh please, since when have you liked gossip?”
Jules snorted a laugh. “Right, forgot I was Mother Theresa. Go on then, she’s nice, is she?”
“You can see that for yourself,” said Sophie as they walked toward the village hall. “But I barely know her. I mean, it was like a thing, you know, a movie moment.”
“Love at first sight, sort of thing?” asked Jules.
“Yeah. Maybe. Except love seems like a big word for it. Let’s call it feelings at first sight, shall we? That sounds a bit less scary.”
“Mmm. So, what’s the plan, then?”
“What do you mean, what’s the plan?” Sophie said. “Like I said, I barely know the woman. But she’s going to be there tonight, so…”
“So? You’re going to stare at her across a crowded room until she gets magically hypnotized and falls in love with you?” Jules narrowly avoided a puddle. “That sounds like a really solid plan. Very logical. Very realistic.”
“No,” Sophie said. “I’m going to… to talk to her. And then, well, I don’t know.” She hadn’t actually thought any further than that. She hadn’t really dared to. She definitely did want to talk to Tilly. She wasn’t sure what about, though.
Actually, to really get down to things, she hadn’t thought any further ahead than just physically seeing her.
“You’re going to have to be careful if you want to keep Gio and his crew out of things,” Jules was saying thoughtfully. “I suppose you could… I don’t know, meet her in another town? Or, and here’s an idea, you could invite her for a drink at the pub.”
“Right, that’s a great idea,” Sophie said. “Because no one I know ever goes to the pub.”
“Let me finish. I was going to say that you could invite her for a drink at the pub after choir and I’ll go in first and…”
“And throw out any paying customers that happen to be my brother and/or his friends?”
“Yeah, doesn’t sound great now you put it that way,” said Jules.
“That’s kind of the problem,” Sophie said. “But also, you’re thinking way too far ahead. Let me just talk to the woman first. It’s too early to be planning dates. And even when it’s not, definitely no drinking in the pub.”
“Careful, you might offend me. It’s practically my pub,” Jules said, pulling open the heavy door of the village hall.
Sophie was so busy rolling her eyes at Jules that she didn’t see Tilly. In fact, she didn’t see her until she ran into her.
“Ouch.”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Sophie said, taking a step back.
But Tilly’s blue eyes were sparkling at her and she was smiling and she was, Sophie thought, just as pretty as she remembered. She could see now that there was a smattering of tiny curly hairs along her hair-line, like a child’s. It made her smile.
“You know, this is the second time we’ve met and the second time we’ve literally run into each other,” Tilly said. “Probably better for the future of our relationship that we try and be slightly less clumsy?”
Future of our relationship? Sophie’s mouth went dry. All she could do was nod and hope that Tilly didn’t think she was too much of an idiot.
“Um, I know it’s a bit forward, but I don’t like messing around too much,” Tilly was saying now.
Sophie looked around, but Jules had made herself scarce and everyone else was gathering around the piano.
“Would you have a drink with me after choir one night?” Tilly said. “Maybe in the pub?”
Sophie took a breath. Right. No pub. No interference. No big brother spoiling things. “No,” she said quickly.
But before she could say anything else, Billy Brooke was clapping her hands and shouting over the chatter.
Tilly gave Sophie one look and Sophie couldn’t read it. Sad or mad or something in between. Then she left to join the other sopranos.
???
“Alright, I want you all to stand in a line. Here, Sylv, you go at the front. Everyone line up behind her,” Billy said.
Obediently, the rest of the choir did as they were told. Tilly was close to the front, still thinking about what had just happened.
She’d said no.
Was it possible that she’d completely misread the situation? Possible that Sophie wasn’t in the slightest bit interested? Or wasn’t even into women?
“It’s simple. You’re going to come to the front, sing the first two lines of Happy Birthday, then you’re done,” Billy said.
A lot of people groaned. But Tilly was too distracted to think about it.
She couldn’t have been that wrong, surely. But then what other explanation was there? She hadn’t asked about a specific night, so it couldn’t be a matter of scheduling. The only thing that she could think was that Sophie wasn’t interested at all.
Sylv gave a warbling rendition of Happy Birthday, then two more people came and went. Tilly stood next to the piano at her turn and sang without thinking. Too busy concentrating on the fact that she’d been so wrong.
Person after person sang, the words to Happy Birthday starting to sound more and more nonsensical.
It was fine, Tilly told herself. Just fine. Everyone had the right to say no, and she’d never dispute that. If Sophie wasn’t interested, that was okay, perfectly alright. It hurt, but she could deal with that. Really, she could.
But when Sophie sang, Tilly couldn’t stop herself watching. She was the second to last person to go, and she was clearly nervous. Her voice was clear and soft though, and Tilly didn’t think she was biased when she thought that Sophie really could sing quite well.
“Right,” Billy said when they were all done. “You, you, you, you, and you.” She pointed out a handful of people, including both Sophie and Tilly. “You’re my soloists for the winter concert. Here are your lines. Learn them.” She began handing out sheets of music to a group of people that looked a lot like deer caught in the headlights.
“Do we have any choice about this?” asked a small, round man.
Billy glared at him. “No. You’re a good singer. Get over it.”
She stopped when she came to Tilly. “You’re good, come here.” She took Tilly’s wrist and led her over to Sophie. “The two of you are going to duet. You’ll fit together well. Here’s your music.”
She dropped Tilly’s wrist and left her standing face to face with Sophie.
A duet? Together? Practice and sing and rehearse with someone who’d just turned her down flat?
“Off you go then,” Billy barked. “Disappear off to a cupboard or outside or wherever you like. You’ve got fifteen minutes to learn those words, then get back in here and join in with the rest.”
Tilly looked at Sophie and Sophie looked back. Neither said a word.