‘I’m not a grief counsellor, Mum,’ Poppy said.
She knew how it sounded. Like she didn’t care what had happened to Norah. And of course, she did. Truly. However, she and Norah weren’t friends now. How could Poppy help?
‘I know that,’ her mother retorted, tossing a sharp look over her shoulder. ‘But I just think she could do with someone who understands.’
Poppy sighed again. ‘Mum...’
‘I know this feels like a lot to ask. But I just think it’s important you try and talk to her. At least once. I talked to her mum. I don’t think either of them is coping.’
‘Did she say that?’ Poppy asked.
‘Of course not. She acted like everything was fine,’ her mother said, turning the hob off and going to the table, where she leant her hands on the back of the chair opposite Poppy.
‘Maybe it is,’ Poppy suggested.
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Poppy looked down at the table. ‘Yeah, OK. Fine. I’ll go.’ She pushed the rest of her biscuit into her mouth. She looked back up to find her mother staring at her. ‘What, now?’ Poppy asked, mouth full of hobnob.
‘Yes.’
Poppy got to her feet with a heavy heart. This was going to be so bloody awkward.
Poppy walked out of their old red front door, down Orchid Road and knocked on Norah’s blue front door. She was thinking about how to open. Something about just wanting to hang out? That would be weird. They didn’t hang out, ever. Maybe she could ask for some help with something school-related? But that would be a pretty see-through lie since they didn’t share any classes.
Poppy pushed the doorbell, hoping inspiration would strike when the moment arrived. But then Norah answered, looking at her, she asked, ‘Is this about that casserole dish?’
That threw Poppy for a loop. ‘What?’
‘Joy told me you were asking for me, and I remembered your mum gave my mum a stew thing a few weeks ago, so I thought...’
‘Oh. No, it’s not that,’ Poppy said. But what was it?
Norah stared at her, waiting. Her irritation showed in those shrewd grey eyes. Inspiration had failed to strike Poppy. There was only one thing for it.
‘Can I be honest?’ Poppy asked.
Norah looked confused. ‘I don’t know, can you?’
‘Look, the thing is... I think you’re gonna hate this. The reason I’m here. So I think I just need to tell you straight out, and then you can tell me to piss off, OK? Because that’s what I’d do if I were you.’
Norah looked increasingly puzzled. ‘Hate what?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh.’
Poppy nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘Was it your mum’s idea?’
Poppy nodded, grateful that Norah was intuiting a lot about the situation. Saying it aloud would be agony.
‘Well, come in for a bit, and then you can at least tell her, god, I don’t know. But something.’
Poppy smiled. ‘I appreciate your understanding on this.’
‘It’s just mum bullshit, that’s all,’ Norah said with a wry smile that Poppy would come to know well in time.
Poppy laughed. ‘Yeah.’ And she went in, thinking, Maybe it won’t be so dreadful after all.
Now
Mum bullshit. Poppy remembered those words so well, still. They were about to take on a new meaning. Because now? Poppy and Norah were the mums. The bullshit was their bullshit. And it was time to go and pick up Luna.
Five
Norah trudged to school as though she were walking through wet cement. Her pockets were full of snacks for Freddie. He always came out voracious. He seemed to need to be eating every minute of his life at the moment.
She approached the school gates, and now panic was setting in. It was actually ridiculous. Why should she be scared of that woman? She was just a person. A person who broke her heart for the first time and did it so successfully that it remained the worst heartbreak of her life.
So what? Norah had only been eighteen. She’d been stupid. She was older now. Wiser. In possession of a thicker skin. And married, too. It wasn’t a happy marriage, but Poppy wasn’t to know that. For all Poppy knew, Norah was blissful in her matrimony.
Taking all that into account, Norah should have nothing to fear from the grownup version of an ex-girlfriend. Twenty years had passed. So much change had occurred between now and then that they were virtually different people. She didn’t know this woman. She wasn’t that girl. She was just wearing her skin.
Norah came pretty close to convincing herself of that until she locked eyes with Poppy at the gate, and her stomach felt like it was gonna fall out of her arse.
‘Hi,’ Poppy said with a modest wave.
‘Hello,’ Norah said quietly and went in.
They were almost side by side as they crossed the playground. Norah decided to slow her pace to allow Poppy to leave her behind. Unfortunately, Poppy had the same idea, so their paces still matched. They were walking in perfect tandem toward the door of the open classroom. The kids were piling out, flying to their caregivers. Norah and Poppy were among the last to reach the door.
