Page 29 of Play Our Song

“Really?” Gio asked. He was grinning at that. It was his favorite meal.

“It’s not hard,” said Sophie. “I’ll get the ingredients in and then you can make it, alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, concentrating harder now. “Yeah, alright.”

Their father shook his head. “Not been the best of days, has it, lad?” he said.

“Has it not?” asked Sophie. “What’s gone on then?” It had been her afternoon off from the garage and she’d spent most of it hanging around the pub and complaining to Jules and whoever else had come in.

Paul folded his arms. “Police around asking questions.”

Sophie felt her stomach contract. “Yeah? About what?”

“Nothing,” Gio said, bacon starting to sizzle in the pan. “Because we’ve done nothing.”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Paul said.

“You sure?” asked Sophie.

“Don’t you start,” said her father. “It’s bad enough that the police harass us when we’ve not been on the radar for years. It’s some stolen car ring they’re after.”

“And we’ve got nothing to do with it?” Sophie said.

Her father looked at her.

“Fine, we’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“Could do without them poking around though,” said her father. “Incompetent idiots that they are.”

“Max is alright. You see him at the pub all the time,” said Sophie. She didn’t mention Tilly, hoping that Max’s more familiar name would help matters more.

“Yeah, well,” her father started.

But Sophie’s phone rang and cut him off before he could say anymore.

“Hello,” she said, not recognizing the number.

“Sophie? It’s Billy.”

Sophie couldn’t remember Billy calling her before. They knew each other well enough because of Jules, but it was Jules that arranged drinks and parties, not Billy. “This is a surprise.”

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Billy said. “But I’d like to know if you could make it half an hour earlier to choir tomorrow?”

Sophie blinked. “Um, what’s this about?”

“I’d prefer to tell you in person.”

Sophie took a breath. “Alright, yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wonderful,” said Billy. “See you there.”

She hung up before Sophie could say anything else.

“Problem?” asked her dad.

Sophie shook her head. “Just a choir thing.”

The sizzling from the stove took on a more sinister tone. “Turn the bloody heat down,” barked her father.

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