‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
Norah looked at her in surprise, and Poppy saw pain in her eyes. But only for a second. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m great. I’m just feeling a bit tired. Sorry about the whinging,’ she said quickly.
Back in the day, Poppy would have called bullshit. But it wasn’t then. It was now. Poppy had missed a lot of Norah’s life. Half of it, in fact. This person in front of her was still something of a mystery. Poppy had to keep that in mind. The best tack to take might be to act like they were just new friends. If Norah wanted to pretend she was OK, Poppy had to let her.
She glanced over at the trampoline and saw Luna take a tumble. She made ready to fly over and pick the kid up, soothe her through some tears. But Freddie was on it. He ran over and grabbed Luna’s hands and she was back on her feet. Then he said something, and they both giggled.
‘He’s a really sweet kid,’ Poppy said honestly. ‘You’re raising a good one.’
Norah didn’t say anything, but she looked touched. ‘You too.’
‘Sometimes I worry I’m raising a princess,’ Poppy said, trying to sound flip about it.
‘She’s confident and knows her own mind,’ Norah asserted. ‘I wish I’d been raised to be a bit more like that.’
Poppy was so shocked that she couldn’t speak. Raising Luna alone, there was no other voice to hear, no one to keep her in check, to say ‘Too much’ or ‘Too little.’ It made her wonder. So Norah’s complement meant, well, pretty much everything.
‘Thank you,’ Poppy said, looking away.
She couldn’t let Norah see that she was welling up like an utter dickhead. But if Norah noticed, she let it pass without comment.
Twenty Years Ago
Poppy could understand Norah’s response to her message. But it didn’t make it hurt less. Norah didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to hear an apology or an explanation. Poppy had wanted to try to give her something now the dust had settled. She felt up to explaining her decision.
But the friendship was dead.
The worst thing was feeling so alone with this. She and Norah had been becoming so close before this happened, and she was precisely the person she wanted to talk to. But obviously, that was off the table.
Her mother had always been a good shoulder, but Poppy was too embarrassed to talk to her about it. Her mum only knew what had happened with the song, but anything else was pure speculation. Poppy had kept quiet on the building romance. Now, she was glad she’d shut her mouth. She wasn’t sure how her mother would receive it all. She might think Mrs Caldwell was in the right.
Well, Poppy didn’t need that. She felt bad enough. She didn’t need anyone else to see her shame. Especially not her mum. She needed her to keep thinking well of her even if it was inaccurate.
She looked at Norah’s message again, at the one word. No.
What a terrible word. Only two letters and look at all the pain contained in them. Who invented it? A cold bastard, that’s who. One with no concern for the feelings it would provoke in all who heard it. They could have made it just a bit less harsh. Added a few letters on it to make it feel less like getting slapped. ‘Noggle,’ perhaps. Or sillier: ‘Nobewobbee.’ Or fun: ‘Noaroony.’
But it was just No. Like a door slamming in your face. Bang, over.
Her phone beeped again, and Poppy lept at it, hoping Norah had second thoughts. But it was just Sammy, the bassist from the band.
Get here now.
Where? Poppy replied.
Rehearsal room. The man is here.
Man?
The man from the thing!
Poppy couldn’t be doing this cryptic shit right now. What are you talking about?
‘The A and R guy. He wants to talk to the band.’
Poppy wasn’t excited, only confused. The guy Sammy meant was Jeff Park, and he worked for Jam Records, a small label. He had come to the showcase and the after-party and had talked to a couple of performers who were very much not them. She’d assumed they’d blown it. But he’d come down to the school? For what?
***
Poppy walked into the rehearsal room to find Jeff talking to the three other guys in the band. Sammy was talking about his influences.
‘Lemmy, man. He was a bassist, and he was still the star. And that’s hard because no one ever pays that much attention to the bassist. But he rocked so hard, you had to pay attention.’
‘Well, he was also the lead vocalist of Motorhead,’ Jeff pointed out, sounding bored.
‘I guess that helped, yeah,’ Sammy said.
Jeff noticed that Poppy had walked in, and his boredom evaporated. ‘Poppy!’ he exclaimed.
Poppy, who had no idea this man would have any way of knowing her name, was shocked by the familiarity of the greeting. ‘That’s me.’
‘I’m so glad you could come down. Fancy a chat?’ he asked, and it was pretty clear he meant just her.
Poppy glanced at the other band members. Sammy, Barnaby (the lead singer) and Micky (the drummer) didn’t look happy. Barnaby looked like he might throw a full tantrum. No one had understood what was happening until this moment. But it was obvious now. He had come for Poppy.
Poppy should have felt elated. But she was just scared. ‘Umm, OK,’ she said to Jeff. What else could she say? Noaroony?
‘Great, let’s go to the refectory,’ he said, ignoring the rest of the band’s daggers.
