Poppy looked around her like Norah was talking to someone else. ‘Oh, me? Hi.’
‘Your shift finished?’ Norah asked, trying to do an impression of how normal people sounded.
‘Uh, yeah. How about you?’ she asked anxiously as they headed through the gates and across the playground.
‘Yeah, I work from home.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Customer service online.’
‘Oh,’ Poppy said, a chuckle escaping her.
‘Is that funny?’ Norah asked defensively.
Poppy looked slightly scared, which Norah didn’t hate.
‘Not as such.’ Poppy paused and licked her lips nervously. ‘I was just... I wouldn’t have expected you to do a people job.’
Norah didn’t say anything.
‘I just mean, you weren’t really... You liked your own company, as I recall,’ Poppy added.
‘Not always,’ Norah said, though she knew it was true.
She wasn’t and had never been a Chatty Kathy. The only reason her current job was bearable was that she wasn’t having to speak to anyone using her mouth. Typing on a screen left a gap between her and the customer, which made it less like dealing with an actual human and all that came with that.
‘Sorry, I’m sure... Anyway,’ Poppy muttered, embarrassed.
Norah was annoyed with herself. She was supposed to be developing a cordiality with Poppy. Hell of a start.
‘Sometimes you just gotta suck it up and do something you hate to pay the bills,’ Norah said. ‘You don’t always get to choose. Especially when people are relying on you.’
Poppy gave a knowing nod. ‘You said it.’
They joined the queue at the door, waiting for the kids to be released. They didn’t say anything else to each other, but Norah thought, OK, that was normal. Right? No one would have looked at that and known we’d been what we’d been.
Twenty Years Ago
Norah was a mess. She’d had no sleep. How could she snooze after all that? She’d discovered a new element of her sexuality and been outed all in about the span of half an hour. She couldn’t process it. So she was choosing not to.
She went to school and headed to art. Joy was hard at work, moved on from her last painting of Edgar Allan Poe and halfway through a haunting depiction of Mary Shelley working in a call centre.
‘She looks exhausted,’ Norah said, examining Mary.
‘She’s got to meet unrealistic targets, and she’s completely behind,’ Joy explained. ‘I based it on my mum’s job.’
‘It’s great. Totally depressing.’
‘Thanks,’ Joy said with a rare smile.
Norah got out her latest panel and went to work on it. Unfortunately, the pencils were now linked to what had happened with Poppy, so Norah was distracted straight off the bat. But with a herculean mental effort, she pushed that to the side and managed to crack on.
But then she happened to glance over at the door, and she saw Poppy out there, looking right at her. She gave a little wave. She looked nervous. It was alarmingly cute.
Norah took a deep breath, put down her pencil, and went out to talk to her.
‘Hi,’ Poppy said, sounding different. She was usually so easy and casual about everything. Today, she looked like she was at a job interview. Formal and uptight.
‘Hello,’ Norah said, trying to work out what her mouth should do. She settled on a flat smile.
‘I wanted to check in on you,’ Poppy said. ‘Last night was... Is your mum OK?’
Norah laughed snarkily. ‘Well, she was acting totally normal this morning, put out my breakfast like usual, said bye and went to work.’
‘So, full denial?’ Poppy said.
‘It’s just the Cauldwell way,’ Norah shrugged.
Poppy sighed. ‘Wow. If that had been my mum, she’d have sat down on the bed and demanded to talk it out with both of us there and then.’
Norah snorted. ‘That sounds like a nightmare, if I’m honest.’
‘It’s just the Jennings way,’ Poppy said with a better, more sincere smile.
They laughed together then, and that felt good. Easier.
‘Do you think you’ll talk to her about it?’ Poppy asked.
