Page 73 of Play Our Song

“Tough choice,” she said. “I don’t really see what you could have done differently. I’m sure that when Sophie’s had a chance to think about things, she’ll see the same thing.”

“I don’t think so,” Tilly said. “She chose her family over me, and I can’t blame her for that. And it’s not like I can apologize and say I’ll change. I’m not going to. My job is important to me.” She sighed. “I just wish it could be different.”

“Maybe she’s not the one for you then,” Billy said. “I should know. Before I married Jules, I was in another relationship for years. I was so sure that we were supposed to be together that when we broke up, I thought I’d never love anyone again. Look how that turned out.”

“Maybe,” Tilly said. “I suppose you’re right. If we can’t see eye to eye on the important stuff, then I suppose it wouldn’t have worked out in the end, anyway.”

“You’re not saying that like you believe it.” Billy drank another mouthful.

“It’s just that… well, my life was better with Sophie in it,” Tilly said.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” asked Billy. “It’s easy to say stuff like that, but do you really mean it? How was your life better with Sophie in it?”

Tilly thought about this. “It just was,” she said finally.

“That’s the easy answer, and it’s bullshit,” said Billy. “Find the answer to that question and you’ll know whether or not you two can work together. If you can’t find an answer, well, it was doomed to failure.”

“I’m not sure you should be walking around giving advice like that,” Tilly said, starting to get irritated.

“I’m not an agony aunt,” said Billy. “I never pretended to be one. But I am happily married after being a disaster myself. I put my career ahead of everything, I ruined relationships, I’ve been in your shoes.”

“I’m no disaster,” said Tilly.

“Fine,” huffed Billy. “You’re not a disaster. You’re miserable, though, and not especially pleasant company.”

“I never asked you to sit here.”

“True.” Billy picked up her drink. “These things have a tendency to work out in the end. You have to have patience. Let me know by the end of the week whether the two of you are capable of singing together. If you’re not, I’ll have to work something else out.”

She got up and wandered back across the pub toward the bar.

Tilly eyed her gin and tonic. Would this all work out in the end? Could this all work out? She didn’t see a way. Sophie hated her, and who could blame her? She tried to put herself in Sophie’s shoes. How would she feel toward an officer that arrested her father?

But the thought of her dad being in trouble with the law was so far outside her experience that she couldn’t truly empathize.

In the end, she supposed, there wasn’t much she could do to change things. She’d done what she had to do, and Sophie had made her decisions. But as she finished up her drink and decided to risk going home, her shoulders were heavy. And the world outside the door was just a bit darker than it had been before.

Things had changed. Everything had changed. And Tilly really, really wished that it hadn’t.

THE PHONE RANG at five to ten and Tilly answered it without looking at who it was, desperately praying that it was Sophie, but not wanting to jinx her luck by seeing a name on the display.

“Matilda,” said her father when she picked up the phone.

“Dad.” Her heart sank back down into the soles of her feet. Not Sophie then. She never should have hoped.

“Don’t sound so pleased to hear from me.”

She took a breath and forced herself to smile, hoping that he’d hear it through the phone. “I am glad to hear from you, always.”

“I just phoned to say well done,” he said. “I’ve heard about the arrests, and I’m proud of you.”

Her heart sank even lower, like it was trying to physically escape through the bottom of her feet. “Actually, the arrests aren’t going to stick.”

“Not procedural,” he groaned.

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