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Chapter Twenty

When 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.