‘So that thing your mum said about the chef book... That was a lie, right?’ Poppy noted.
‘Yeah, what was that? I know why I was making up a book, but why was she?’ Norah said, wrapping the blanket around her body. She gave Poppy a small smile and lifted it so that Poppy could slide under with her.
Poppy did so enthusiastically, glad to be with Norah again. That minute under the bed had been an age of separation.
‘I think you might be trapped until my mum is out.’
‘How long?’
‘I’d give it an hour for safety.’
‘An hour? But what do I do if she does come back?’
‘Look, just stay under the covers. She probably wouldn’t even know you’re there if she comes in,’ Norah suggested.
Poppy snuggled closer to Norah. ‘I wish I’d have thought of that the first time. Though I will admit, I was quite impressed by the cleanliness under your bed. No dust balls or anything.’
‘My mother was just under there yesterday with the Hoover. You got lucky,’ Norah noted. ‘Two days ago, you’d have probably had a fit of sneezes and given the game away. Thanks for the book, by the way. Quick thinking.’
Poppy smiled at her. Though the interruption had been a close call, there was something exciting about hiding together like this. Norah's body was warm and soft next to hers.
‘I guess we'll just have to keep each other entertained for the next hour,’ Poppy whispered, tracing her finger slowly down Norah's arm.
Norah shivered at her touch. ‘However will we manage?’ she murmured, shifting even closer.
Poppy was pleased to find that the mood wasn’t a total write-off from the interruption.
They picked up where they’d left off, albeit at a quieter volume, muffling moans against each other's lips as they explored and pleasured one another.
When it seemed Mrs Cauldwell must surely be asleep, Poppy gave Norah one last lingering kiss. ‘I guess I should sneak out now,’ she whispered. ‘But next time, let's go to my place.’
Norah smiled, still catching her breath. ‘It's a date.’
Poppy snuck out for the second time that week and, again, made it out clean. On the front step, she took in the night sky, euphoric from a night of passion with Norah Cauldwell.
I’m definitely a lesbian, Poppy thought to herself. My mother will be thrilled.
Fifteen
Now
Norah had to admit, Freddie seemed happy playing with Luna. But Norah wanted to kill Max all the same. Poppy was a safe pair of hands, but Max hadn’t known that! He’d dumped their child on a stranger and run off to yet another work emergency. Norah hadn’t even seen the text until twenty minutes after it hit her phone because Freddie had been blowing it up with his usual cryptic emoji streams sent from his dad’s phone. A dog, a sloth, an otter, five kisses and twelve thumbs up.
Consequently, when Max’s message came through, she’d felt the vibration but hadn’t thought it urgent and ignored it, up to her eyeballs at that very moment, loading up the Tesco click-and-collect order into the car. Why hadn’t he called her and checked it was OK before he’d buggered off?
Well, that was the point, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to give her a chance to say no. He was asking for forgiveness rather than permission, one of his worst habits.
Norah couldn’t wait to tell the couples’ therapist about this. Hopefully, she’d join Norah in ripping Max a new arsehole, in her measured way. Norah knew you couldn’t technically win couples’ therapy, but she was gonna be a tiny bit victorious in the next session. Let him say everything was her fault after this.
Poppy brought her a coffee, reminding her that as well as being angry, she should be embarrassed, too. Poppy had been placed squarely in the middle of this. Of all people, it had to be her. To be so utterly frazzled in her presence was uncomfortable, to say the least. And Norah had let a jab at Max slip out when she first got in, so Poppy knew her marriage was, currently, for shit.
‘You OK?’ Poppy questioned, not leaving the table. The place was dead except for them and the kids.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she responded.
Poppy nodded. ‘OK,’ she said gently.
Norah didn’t know why, but that pissed her off. ‘What?’
‘What?’ Poppy mirrored.
Norah realised she was being defensive and weird. ‘I... Sorry.’
‘Did I do something?’ Poppy asked.
‘No,’ Norah said.
Poppy hovered, looking a little pensive. And then she sat down and gave Norah an extremely direct look. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’
Norah was wide-eyed. ‘What can’t you do?’
‘Dance around this. I just want to acknowledge that I know it’s weird that I’m back. And I know you’re not happy about it,’ Poppy said plainly.
Norah felt a bead of sweat run down her spine. ‘I n-never said anything like that,’ she stuttered.
‘You’re going to pretend there’s no problem? That’s how you want to handle this?’ Poppy asked her.
Norah felt a strong, inbuilt instinct to bluff her way through this conversation. It would have been so easy to run for the most convenient conversation exit—denial. But something in her, something even stronger, couldn’t do it, didn’t want it.
