Luna's curiosity was piqued. ‘You must like her.’

‘Why?’ Poppy asked, slightly shocked.

‘It looks like you’re happy while she’s drawing you. Really happy,’ Luna said thoughtfully.

Poppy nodded, stunned at her daughter’s perceptiveness. ‘Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?’

Luna hopped onto a chair and leaned in closer to the drawing. ‘I didn’t know Freddie’s mum could draw so well.’

‘Yeah. She’s good.’

‘I wish I could draw like that.’

‘Yeah?’

‘But it looks hard,’ Luna frowned.

‘If you keep practising, you could be this good,’ Poppy told her.

‘Could I?’ Luna asked hopefully.

‘What, you? You’d be great,’ Poppy told her daughter sincerely.

Luna looked up at her mother, eyes wide with excitement. ‘You think I could be an artist when I grow up?’

‘Of course you can,’ Poppy said, touching the top of Luna’s head.

Whatever she wanted to be, Poppy encouraged. Last month, she wanted to be a chef in the daytime and an astronaut at night. The world was open to her, and Poppy wanted her to enjoy that for as long as she could. Whatever she ended up landing on, Poppy just hoped she chose it for the right reasons.

As Luna bounded off to play, Poppy returned her gaze to the drawing and admonished herself for being stupid. She was seeing what she wanted to see. Norah was just good. She could have brought this out of anyone.

This developing crush was stupid. Giving it any brain space was stupid. She’d only recently gotten into Norah’s good graces, and that was by the skin of her teeth. She couldn’t risk all that by bringing up the one thing they couldn’t talk about. Keeping it buried was the only way this worked. It was a deadly zombie they’d knocked down once, and if anyone was dumb enough to dig it up, it was gonna bite everyone in the arse. That’s what Poppy and Norah’s past was. A monster lurking, waiting to destroy. She would have to let it go.

Poppy took a deep breath, forcing herself to push the thoughts away. She carefully placed the drawing back on the table and went to check on Luna. The little girl was engrossed in her colouring book, her tongue poking out in concentration as she carefully filled in the lines.

‘Luna, you ready for some lunch?’ she suggested, trying to distract herself from getting silly about Norah.

Luna nodded enthusiastically, and Poppy led the way to the kitchen, grateful for the simplicity of the task. As they prepared sandwiches, she chatted with her daughter about school. She was building friendships beyond Freddie now; Poppy was glad to learn. But he was still her best friend because he was good at Lego, which Luna valued highly.

At bath time, Norah texted her. Hey, when do I get my lessons?

She texted Norah back. It’s ONE lesson, and you seriously want it?

Don’t you dare try to renege! Norah shot back.

Poppy had guessed why she’d bought that voucher. The same reason she bought Norah’s. The winner didn’t want it. That didn’t shock Poppy, and she appreciated the gesture, but she was surprised she was going through with it. Poppy had thought it would be one of those things where they’d say, ‘Hey, we gotta do that lesson sometime,’ occasionally. And then never, ever do it.

But now she was going to have to get the guitar out, blow the dust off it, and teach Norah how to play. She’d have laughed if she hadn’t wanted to cry.

With a sigh, Poppy texted back: Sure, let’s do it. When are you free?

Almost immediately, Norah replied: Is it doable this weekend?

Yeah, how about we try it again after Luna’s asleep? Hopefully, with fewer nightmares.

Thirty

Poppy opened the door to Norah, acoustic guitar in hand. ‘Are you ready to rock?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Norah told her plainly. It had been a long day. She’d had a meeting with her boss, and he informed her that she was ‘Not meeting targets.’ Norah actually knew that because the targets were ridiculous. She assumed they were suggestions rather than true expectations. Apparently not.

‘Good, because rocking might be a bit much after the day I’ve had. We’ll just learn a few easy notes,’ Poppy replied, relieved. ‘Come in.’

They went into the living room. ‘Drink?’ Poppy asked.

‘Do you have anything with a proof?’ Norah asked.

‘Lemme check,’ Poppy said and went into the kitchen.

Norah sat down on the battered old couch, and a moment later, Poppy came out with a bottle of wine. ‘I don’t know how long it’s been here. I think it was my mum’s.’

‘But wine gets better with age, doesn’t it?’ Norah said.

‘I don’t know if that applies to Blue Nun,’ Poppy fretted.

Norah laughed. ‘I’m willing to risk it.’

Poppy sat down and cracked open the bottle, pouring them both a conservative glass apiece. ‘Let’s start small, just in case.’

Norah took a sip. ‘I’ve had better, I’ve had worse,’ she pronounced.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ Poppy said, sipping tentatively.

‘Your daughter asleep?’ Norah asked.

‘Yes, is your son?’

‘Just about,’ Norah said. She flopped back on the sofa with her glass. ‘Man, I’m knackered.’

‘I thought you were jazzed for guitar lessons?’ Poppy said.

‘Yes, I’m very excited to embarrass myself,’ Norah assured her. Something caught the corner of her eye on the wall. The portrait, framed and given pride of place above the mantel. Norah felt a blush building in her that she didn’t have time for. ‘Gimme that thing,’ she said, nodding to the guitar.

Poppy grabbed her guitar and sat across from her. ‘Let’s start with the basics.’

Norah struggled at first, her fingers fumbling over the frets, but she was determined not to quit. Poppy was patient with her and very nonjudgmental about errors, which helped.

After about half an hour, they knocked off. Poppy poured them both some more crap wine.