‘Right, now everybody knows what is allowed. But we don’t have enough bakers. I need volunteers.’ Susan stated.
The room went quiet. Susan looked around the room, and her eyes landed on Norah and Poppy. ‘The newbies. Care to lend a hand, or are you just here to make jokes you think I can’t hear?’
Poppy cracked like an egg. ‘We’ll help.’
Norah rolled her eyes. ‘Oh Christ,’ she muttered.
***
‘Right, now I’ve accidentally locked us into producing a hundred cupcakes. I better come to collect my little monster,’ Poppy said as they walked out of the school gates. Norah had been kind enough to share her very responsible babysitter cousin, and both kids were with her now at Norah’s place.
‘What were you thinking?!’ Norah asked.
‘There was no thought at all. I was acting in pure fear,’ Poppy told her.
‘Can you bake?’ Norah asked.
Oddly, Poppy had not asked herself that until this very moment. ‘Ummm... I don’t know. I never tried.’
‘I think that counts as a no,’ Norah told her. ‘And I can’t either.’
‘You don’t have to do anything. Except maybe help me on the day with the stall. I’ll handle the rest. I got us into this mess,’ Poppy said guiltily. This was supposed to be funny. They weren’t supposed to have to do shit.
‘It’s a deal,’ Norah agreed.
‘Good. Let’s go and relieve your third cousin.’
Norah raised an eyebrow. ‘Or...’
Poppy raised both eyebrows. ‘Or?’
‘I paid the sitter for two hours. It’s barely been one. We could get a drink on the way.’
‘God, you’re such a bad influence,’ Poppy said, delighted.
They stopped at the Crow, a horrible pub. As they walked in, Poppy couldn't help but cringe at the smell of stale beer and sweat that seemed to permeate every corner. She shot a glance at Norah, who seemed completely unfazed by the less-than-ideal atmosphere.
‘Seriously? This is the only pub on the way?’ Poppy asked, trying not to breathe in too deeply.
Norah shrugged. ‘Well, it's either this or home.’
Poppy frowned. ‘Is he there?’
‘No, he’s working late, allegedly. Hence the babysitter.’
‘Just checking if...’
‘If I’m avoiding going home?’ Norah asked plainly.
Poppy was caught. She didn’t know how to broach this. Subtlety had never been a strength.
‘Sorry,’ Norah said. ‘I’m being rude.’
‘You’re not at all,’ Poppy assured her. ‘Come on, let’s get a drink.’
It was still early, so it wasn’t too leery in the pub yet. Just a handful of football watchers standing near the TV, glued to a match between a blue team and a red team that Poppy couldn’t have named with a gun to her temple.
‘What are you having?’ Norah asked.
Poppy scanned the menu, trying to find something remotely appetising. ‘Um, how about a gin and tonic?’ she suggested.
‘A classic choice,’ Norah replied. ‘I'll have the same.’
The barman poured the drinks, and they paid and took them to a sticky, wobbly table.
‘So...’ Norah began, taking a sip of her drink. ‘How's life as a single mum? Does it suck, or is it actually not that bad?’
Poppy nearly choked on her drink at the blunt question. ‘It's... busy,’ she managed to say after coughing.
‘I can only imagine,’ Norah said. ‘But I won’t have to now, will I?’
OK, it was becoming clear that Norah needed to talk, and Poppy could do that. ‘What’s the status?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, is there a timeline? Have you talked to Freddie?’ Poppy asked.
‘Not yet. We’ve agreed that I’m moving out.’
