The cashier rang them up. "That'll be £9.99," she said.
Poppy's heart sank. ‘I'm sorry, sweetie, Mummy doesn't have enough money for this magazine,’ she said regretfully. That was it, she’d said it. She’d never felt so broke.
Luna's face fell. ‘But you said I could get it,’ her lip quivered.
‘Can’t you just get the Frozen one? It’s cheaper.’
‘Oh, mum.... Pleeeeeeessseeeeee?!’
Poppy thought it over. It was four quid difference. It shouldn’t feel so crucial. Poppy would face up to her poorness tomorrow. ‘OK.’
Luna fist-pumped while Poppy paid, and they turned to see the old lady behind them now. ‘Tough, isn’t it? I remember that.’
Poppy nodded, embarrassed. They walked around the old lady and went outside, where Luna commenced ripping the plastic off the magazine.
‘I can’t do it,’ she complained.
Poppy took it and had a go. It was really on there.
While she was struggling, the old lady came out of the newsagent. ‘Oh, you’re still here.’
‘Yep,’ Poppy said, wrestling with the magazine.
‘You look familiar. Have I seen you before?’ the lady asked.
‘I just moved back here, so probably not,’ Poppy said. The plastic finally began to give.
‘No, I definitely... Wait a second. You’re not Carole’s daughter, are you?’
Poppy was stunned. ‘Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I don’t—’
‘I run the café, The Sugar Cube? Your mother used to work for me.’
The memories came flying back. ‘Oh my god, Lilian? Of course I remember you.’
‘I know she passed. I’m so sorry,’ Lilian said sadly.
‘Thanks,’ Poppy said.
Luna let out a very big sigh. She was stuck listening to boring grown-up chat, but she’d just have to bear it. It was nice for Poppy to meet someone who knew her mother.
‘I remember you left to be a musician, didn’t you? Your mother was so proud.’
‘Thanks. But that’s over now,’ Poppy told her, still trying to fiddle the magazine completely from its prison.
‘You quit?’ the woman checked.
‘Sort of.’
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not looking for a job, are you?’ the woman questioned.
‘What?’ Poppy asked, the plastic wrapping giving at last.
The magazine flew out of Poppy’s hands, but Luna caught it. ‘Yes!’ she cried.
‘I’m fully staffed for the breakfast rush, but after my part-timers leave—they’re all students—it’s just me and the cook till three. And I’m getting ready to retire. I thought my daughter might take over, but she’s moving to Australia. She said she needs to live in the heat and her husband is from there originally. She met him in a bar. He was behind the counter. She said it was love at first sight. I think she just liked the accent, but of course, I didn’t say anything. She’s a romantic, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from her...’
Poppy was barely following this story, but she kept listening because yes, she did indeed need a job. This was the answer. If she had to literally follow her in her mother’s footsteps, that wasn’t the worst thing. There were worse paths to take.
Nine
Norah clocked off for lunch, slapped her laptop shut and went to look in the kitchen cupboards. Nothing appealing. She decided to treat herself to lunch out. Let someone else make her a sandwich for a change.
She headed around the corner, into the square, straight for The Sugar Cube. It was a small café, cosy and inviting, with warm lighting and mismatched chairs and tables. Norah liked the place and the food, but she was hoping not to see anyone she knew. She just wanted to eat quietly while she doom-scrolled.
She joined the long queue, hoping it would move fast. She only had twenty-five minutes before she had to be logged back in. A minute passed, and she’d get an email from her bloody boss talking about time theft. No one loved the rules more than he, the self-important tosser.
The queue shifted, and she was swept up to the counter. She had a tuna bagel in mind, maybe even a brownie. She was feeling kind of wild. She felt a bit less excited when she found herself eyeball to eyeball with Poppy stood behind the counter—in a pinny, no less.
‘What?!’ Norah exclaimed.
‘Oh, Norah. Hello,’ Poppy said with an embarrassed head dip.
Norah realised her reaction was a bit much. ‘You got a job? Here?’
‘That’s the situation, yes.’
‘Why? I mean, aren’t you...’ Norah began, before realising what she was about to say was inappropriate. You didn’t ask strangers, ‘Hey, aren’t you rich now?’ So she stopped mid-sentence.
