Chapter Twenty
W hen Tilly woke up, she felt lighter than she had for weeks. She grinned to herself before she was even out of bed.
This was really working. She allowed herself the pleasure of imagining Sophie’s face next to hers, of imagining her dark hair splayed out on the pillow. And she felt all the right tingles. It was just as Max had said. Communication was key. Not only in police work, but in relationships too, it turned out.
If that was all she had to do, be open and honest, she was going to be just as good at being a girlfriend as she was at being a police officer.
Being a girlfriend? Where had that come from?
But the more she thought about it, the more she liked the sound of it. Not that she was going to go asking Sophie about that right now. No. She’d take her time, take things slowly. She wouldn’t be more than a few months in Whitebridge, but that meant she had some time to play with.
And when she left? Well, either she’d be leaving Sophie behind, hopefully after a mutually agreed upon break up, or, potentially, taking her along. Either way, there was a lot of scope here. And Tilly liked scope. She also liked being good at things.
Speaking of which, there was a choir rehearsal tonight. So she’d be seeing Sophie sooner rather than later.
Her body shuddered at the thought of it, at the memory of Sophie’s lips, at the thought of just seeing her smile.
There was a problem, though. They couldn’t go on casting lingering glances at choir rehearsal and sharing secret kisses in the village hall. They weren’t sweaty teenagers. There had to be some private time, and some romantic time.
She wondered if she could persuade Max to lend her the police car to take Sophie out to dinner somewhere outside of Whitebridge?
She’d have to work on that.
Despite the long night, she had a bounce in her step when she walked down the stairs and into the main house. Enough of a bounce that she almost didn’t hear the argument that was happening in the living room.
But Mila’s voice caught her attention.
“Be realistic,” Mila said, sharply.
Tilly stopped in her tracks. The living room door was firmly closed.
“I am being realistic,” Max said. “We’ve never had a problem before. I don’t see why it should be one now.”
“Because no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get all this to add up,” said Mila, sounding frustrated and a little bit like she might be crying
“Mil, there’s no point crying about a fait accompli,” said Max, sounding exasperated.
“And what am I supposed to do, then?” wailed Mila. “We don’t have any choices here.”
“There are always choices,” said Max reasonably. “You just don’t like any of them.”
“Well, do you?”
There was a silence, then a snuffling sound as Mila sniffed.
“Something will turn up,” Max said. “Really, I’ll figure something out.”
“When?”
Another exasperated sigh. “Later,” Max said. “I have a ton of paperwork to finish.”
“It’s always work, work, work,” Mila said.
Tilly closed her eyes. She shouldn’t be listening to this. But then, she didn’t really need to be listening to this. She’d heard it all before. Heard it from her mum and dad when she was not much older than Ag was now.
A sadness welled up inside her. Not just for her parents, but because she’d thought that Max and Mila had everything figured out, that they were the proof that relationships between police and civilians could work.
Except maybe they weren’t. Maybe they had their problems just like everyone else.
She leaned against the wall, hearing Mila crying, Max obviously comforting her now. Would she end up like this? Would she end up comforting a crying Sophie as she came home late again? As she rushed to a crime scene again? As she missed a dinner or a birthday or Christmas again?
“Trust me,” Max said. “Just trust me, Mil. We can make this work. Together, we can make this work.”
“I know.” Mila sounded tired. “But sometimes I want to hide under a table until the world goes away.”
Max laughed. “Go for it.”
“I would, but there’s dropped cereal and all sorts under the kitchen table,” said Mila. She sighed. “We’ll make it work.”
Tilly swallowed. She sincerely hoped that whatever the problem was that Mila and Max would make it work. Together. That was the key word, wasn’t it? Together, they probably could. Maybe that was what it took, two people ready to work for the same thing.
Two people on the same page.
And weren’t she and Sophie on the same page?
She felt her mouth twitching up into a smile again. They were, she knew it. She knew that if they could just keep being honest about things, keep talking, then they could stay on the same page. She took a breath. They could do this. She could do this.
She couldn’t go around assuming every relationship was doomed to failure just because of her job. She wasn’t making choices that denied her a life of her own. She was going to be a career police officer, and she was going to have a personal life. Plenty of other people managed to juggle both.
Her phone was in her pocket and she pulled it out. She had Sophie’s mobile number, not that she’d ever used it for anything other than setting up a rehearsal meeting. But now she thought she should send something.
With quick fingers, she typed a brief message. Thinking of you . That was all. Simple, sweet, and true. She sent it and immediately her phone vibrated.
Me too , was the answer.
She felt warm inside as she slid her phone back into her pants pocket and left Mila and Max to their conversation. She was hungry and needed a late breakfast.
When she walked into the kitchen, Ag and Dash were at the table, still in pajamas, their faces sticky with cereal, and a pool of spilled milk on the counter.
“Did you two make your own breakfast?” Tilly asked.
“Mum and dad are arguing,” Dash said.
“Not arguing, they’re having a discussion,” said Ag. “Mum says that’s different because it means that you don’t have to win. Which sounds boring because winning is important, isn’t it?”
Tilly considered this. “Yes,” she said finally. “But it’s not always the most important thing.”
“Why not?” asked Dash.
“Um, because sometimes other things are important,” Tilly said. She looked at Ag. “Like when you play in your piano competitions, sometimes having the experience is important, sometimes just playing in front of people is important, it’s not all about winning.”
“Yes, but I’m going to win,” Ag said. “Probably even a grand piano, but I’m definitely going to win a place at the conservatory.”
“I thought that a conservatory was for plants,” Dash said thoughtfully.
“It is,” Ag said. Then she frowned. “But it’s for pianos too.”
“They’re different things,” said Tilly.
“Like how a barn is for pigs but also for cows,” said Dash.
Now it was Tilly’s turn to frown. She wasn’t at all sure about the comparison. “Maybe?” she hazarded. She paused and listened. No sign of Max or Mila. “Do your mum and dad have a lot of… discussions?” she asked, fully aware that it was none of her business.
Ag shrugged. “No, mostly they do kissy stuff when they think no one’s looking. And then they do working stuff because being a policeman is important and being a bookseller is equally important because people need to be safe but also they need to take breaks and relax for their mental health.”
“Have you considered switching to a wind instrument, or a brass one?” Tilly asked. “Like a trumpet maybe?”
“Why?” Ag asked, eyes wide and blue.
“Because you don’t seem to need to take a breath when you’re talking,” said Tilly. “I think that’d be an advantage for a trumpet player.”
Ag tilted her head to one side. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Do you want some cereal?”
“Yes,” said Tilly. “But first I think we’d better clean up all this milk, don’t you?”
She was instructing Dash on how to clean up, given he was the one that had made the spill, when Max and Mila came into the kitchen.
“I’m cleaning,” Dash announced.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Mila said to Tilly. Her eyes looked a little red, but she was smiling and relaxed. “I can’t even get him to pick up his toys.”
“I’m only going to take them out again,” Dash grumbled. “I don’t see the point in putting them away.”
“I’m going to fry some bacon,” said Max. “Anyone for bacon sandwiches? They’re the best breakfast.”
“Yay,” said Dash.
“Tilly?” asked Max.
“If it’s no trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” he said. “Why don’t you come out to the meat freezer in the garage and help me get the bacon?”
He was giving her a look that told her he wanted to talk to her in private, so she followed him out to the chilly garage, where he opened up a chest freezer and took out some bacon.
“Got a call this morning,” he said quietly. “Someone wanted to talk to you, heard that you were investigating the car thefts. They’ll be in tomorrow morning, so make sure you’re at the station bright and early.”
“A source,” Tilly said.
Max grinned. “You’re already getting a reputation around these parts,” he said. “Well done. Just make sure the info’s good before you do anything about it.”
“Will do,” Tilly said as Max closed the freezer up.
She followed him back into the kitchen with a grin on her face. Now she had two things to look forward to. Moving her investigation forward tomorrow morning, and far sooner, seeing Sophie in just a few hours.