Jeff laughed. ‘You’re eighteen. You might be a lot of things before the dust settles.’
Poppy didn’t love that comment, but it was hard to argue with. She was not quite nineteen, and Jeff was a fifty-year-old music producer. He probably did know more about everything. He almost certainly knew more about what made a pop hit.
‘I just want you to know I’m not gonna have a footballer boyfriend or any of that shit,’ Poppy told him bolshily.
‘No one’s asking you to. I think Annalise and Rebecca have that side of things covered,’ he said with a chuckle. He seemed fine with her being herself, up to a point. So that was something.
‘What name did you have in mind?’ Poppy asked. She could feel the strength to fight him going out of her.
‘We’re thinking “Noah”. It’s sensitive but masculine at the same time,’ he explained. And went on, in his smooth persuasive tone, about demographics and the future of the band. By the time he was done, Poppy couldn’t do anything but sign over her most personal song.
And that’s how “Noah” was born, an utterly bastardised version of “Norah’s Song.” Loud, fast, and lacking in anything that Poppy felt had ever made it special.
It was number one for three weeks and played all over the place. It was indeed Velvet Smack’s breakthrough hit. Though, it turned out to be the biggest hit they ever had, and things kinda went downhill from there. Not that they didn’t push out two more albums that made a bit of money before Jeff called time on the whole thing.
After that, Jeff gave Poppy some work with his newer bands, writing for them, but she was writing songs that made her want to smash her head against her guitar. The solo career never materialised. When the songwriting dried up, it became session work as a simple guitarist. Then the session work slowed down. And one day, Poppy realised she was just a has-been living off royalties of work she was ashamed of.
It hadn’t been her shot. It had simply been a waste of her time, talent, and name. She’d spent it on something she’d never even wanted. She hadn’t seen Jeff in years, but she knew now he’d been a bullshit artist from the very start. He’d pushed her in a direction she’d never have gone by appealing to her vanity and ambition.
Poppy had to wonder who she could have been if she’d never met him. She could have stayed the course, clung to her talent, held on to her own voice, cultivated it, grown it. She could have been a real musician.
Now she’d never know what she could have done. She was just a mum now, sliding towards middle age. The time of adventure and possibility was over. Where once she’d been full of piss and vinegar, it all had turned to sour milk poured into the lattes she served others.
Twenty-Three
Now
Norah sat on the couch, staring at her son. Freddie was playing with his toys on the floor next to her, completely oblivious to the gravity of what she was about to tell him.
Taking a deep breath, Norah turned to face Freddie and cleared her throat. ‘Hey buddy, can I talk to you for a minute?’
Freddie looked up from his toy cars and nodded. ‘OK.’
There were two points to hit, and they would go in order of importance.
‘I know that you heard that argument between me and your dad recently,’ Norah began.
He picked up his car and started fiddling with it.
‘I just wanted to explain something. I know you heard me say that I didn’t want to have a child with your dad. But I didn’t mean it the way you think. I just meant that your dad and I don’t work together as parents. I would have had you no matter what. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
Freddie looked up from his car. ‘Was it?’
‘You’re the coolest kid in the world, Freds. I’m lucky to have you.’
‘I know that,’ he said, irritated. ‘You tell me all the time.’
Norah had to laugh. ‘Should I stop saying that?’ she checked.
‘No, it’s OK,’ Freddie said with a small smile. ‘You can keep saying it.’
Norah was sad that she was going to have to take that smile away. Norah hesitated for a moment before finally blurting out, ‘But the other thing, about me and your dad... What do you think about that?’
‘You and Dad argue a lot,’ Freddie said.
‘Yes, we do,’ Norah agreed. ‘And we want that to stop. So your dad and I are not going to be married to each other anymore. We’re going to live in different houses.’
Freddie's eyes widened for a split second before he shrugged. ‘OK,’ he said nonchalantly and went back to playing with his cars.
Norah couldn't believe his reaction. She had been dreading this conversation for weeks, years actually, preparing herself for tears and questions from her young son. But here he was, completely unfazed by the news of his parents' impending divorce. It worried her.
‘Don't you... don't you have any questions?’ Norah asked.
Freddie looked up at her with a serious expression on his face. ‘Is it because Daddy isn’t very good at cooking?’
Norah couldn't help but laugh at her son's innocent reasoning. ‘No, sweetheart. It's not because of that. We just... We don’t get on very well anymore.’
‘Oh, OK.’ Freddie went back to playing with his toys, seemingly satisfied with her answer.
Norah couldn't believe how little Freddie seemed to care about the breakup of his parents' marriage. Did he not understand?
‘Freddie, are you feeling feel sad?’
He turned to look at her again. ‘Umm, well...’ he began anxiously.
‘Yes?’
‘Can I live with you?’ he asked.
