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Jules sighed. She was probably right. As if she didn’t have enough mess of her own to contend with. The last thing she needed was Jim getting kicked out of the home and moving back into the house.
Chapter Twenty
Billie was afraid to leave the house in case the fact that she’d kissed Jules Hawthorne was somehow tattooed across her face for everyone to see. Every time she thought about it, she blushed deep scarlet and felt her stomach quivering.
What had she been thinking?
It had been a convenient way to shut Jules up, she told herself, primly. A spur of the moment decision, like when you stood at the top of a cliff and very briefly thought about jumping off. That was all.
She’d done it, taken the step and then Jules had broken it, walking away as though everything was normal leaving Billie with the horrible feeling that nothing was ever going to be normal again.
Either Jules was planning on telling the whole village in which case Billie was going to have no choice but to move in to some kind of convent, or she was going to tell no one and never come back. Billie wasn’t sure which was worse.
She was sure, however, that with bills to pay she was going to have to leave the house. Which was why she forced herself to open the door onto a bright and cool morning and walk to the school with her head down, cringing the entire way.
What it was exactly that embarrassed her, she couldn’t say. Whether it was the fact that she’d initiated the kiss, that the kiss was with Jules, or that she’d shown some kind of humanity. She just knew that she felt… different.
Her usual reception class was less energetic than normal. Half because Billie was distracted, and half because with the cooling of the weather, a large percentage of the kids had coughs and runny noses. Billie gave them small xylophones, promising herself that she’d sterilize them when the class was over.
But the second the bell rang the kids fled the classroom, leaving Billie feeling even worse. Even four year olds didn’t want to be around her. And who could blame them? Every time her attention waned for even a moment she was brought back to that kiss and then her life fell apart all over again. She shouldn’t have done it. That was the truth.
“Ms. Brooke? Ms. Brooke?”
Billie looked up to see Agatha bouncing by the piano. Not all the children had left then. “What is it Agatha?”
Agatha was beaming, her face practically splitting in half. “Ms. Brooke, I’m going to have piano lessons and my mum and dad said that even if I’m a good girl and I do practice and pay attention then I can maybe have a piano at home and dad said it’s a big purchase but mum said that I’m a good investment and he shouldn’t be stingy.”
“Ah,” said Billie, as always somewhat wrong-footed by the child’s flood of words.
“And then mum said that you went to the shop and you didn’t buy a book but you said that I should have music lessons and all and that Dash wasn’t napping anymore and that she’d give her right arm to have a quiet half hour with a cup of tea and a biscuit.”
“Right,” said Billie. She cleared her throat. “Actually, um, your mum said that she was going to ask you if you wanted music lessons.”
“She did,” Agatha said joyfully. “She did and she asked me and I said as quick as anything that yes I do.”
Billie couldn’t help but grin. “You did? You make that sound like an easy decision.”
Agatha cocked her head to one side and shrugged. “It is easy though, isn’t it?” she said. “’Cos either you love something or you don’t love something and if you love something then you should just do it and then if you don’t love something then you should just not do it.”
“Mmm,” said Billie, pondering the wisdom in that sentence. Surely she hadn’t done what she’d done because she’d actually wanted to do it, had she? She hadn’t wanted to kiss Jules Hawthorne and yet she’d done it.
She’d done it and the quivering embarrassment and shame came not from the actual act but from what she feared the repercussions of the act were going to be, she realized all in one moment.
Her legs felt weak and she sat down on the piano stool. Agatha’s tiny hands crept closer to the keys.
“Can I start next week?” she said, eyes wistful as she dared herself to touch the piano keys but couldn’t quite persuade herself to do it.
Billie’s breath wouldn’t fill her lungs enough. She nodded.
“Really?” Agatha squealed.
Billie had to swallow twice before she could speak. “Tell your mum to ring me, alright? And you can come for a lesson and see if you really like it.”
“I will, I will,” sang Agatha, dancing around the piano. “I’ll love it, I promise I will, I’ll love it as much as reading and as much as sweeties and as much as Dash.” She hesitated. “But maybe not quite as much as mum and dad.”
“That’s alright,” Billie said with a strained smile. “Now off you go to playtime.”
Agatha skipped out of the room and Billie lowered her head to the piano keys, the discordant sound echoing through the empty room. She had feelings for Jules Hawthorne. How had she been so blind to that fact?
