Norah let out a sigh of relief and quickly typed up her response to the customer. In her haste to finish, she accidentally sent them the tracking information for the other customer. She realised her mistake a second too late.

Thirty-Three

Poppy was trying to wind down from a long day by watching some reality dating thing. Well, her face was pointed at it. She wasn’t taking a thing in. Her brain was whirring around the night before and the conversation that followed.

No matter what she tried, she couldn’t seem to switch it off. Her brain was behaving like a computer, analysing every moment for any kind of positive insight. So far, it hadn’t produced anything but sadness.

There was a knock at the front door. Poppy checked the time. It was nine. Too late for an Amazon delivery, and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Yeah, not really up for a home invasion; please and thank you, Poppy thought and stayed sitting where she was.

The door went again. Poppy turned the volume up on the TV. There was a guy with a shirt that showed his nipples, telling a girl whose top showed her nipples that he just wasn’t ready to go forward with her.

‘Why?’ the girl asked. ‘I thought we connected.’

‘I did too, but then Brandy came in, and we just connected a bit more,’ the guy said.

‘How?’ the girl begged with tears in her eyes.

‘Mainly at the pelvis,’ Poppy sniggered to herself and then glanced up at the window to see Mrs Cauldwell standing right outside, looking through the gap in the blinds at her. Poppy screamed and stood. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she yelled.

‘What?’ Mrs Cauldwell asked boldly through the window.

Poppy paused the show and went to the front door, where Mrs Cauldwell was waiting. ‘You scared the piss out of me!’ Poppy said.

‘I knew you were in.’

‘So you decided to peep at me through the window?’ Poppy said, still trying to shake the adrenaline out of her system.

Mrs Cauldwell tutted. ‘I was just trying to get your attention. I don’t derive pleasure from watching people watch terrible television.’

‘My viewing habits are not on trial,’ Poppy said, embarrassed.

‘I don’t care about that,’ Mrs Caldwell dismissed. ‘I need to speak to you.’

Poppy blew out a breath, calming a bit. ‘You could have called.’

‘I don’t have your number.’

‘Then ask your daughter,’ Poppy said.

‘She can’t know I’m here.’

Poppy was struck by a strong sense of deja vu.

‘What’s up, Mrs Cauldwell?’ Poppy asked.

The woman gathered herself up to her full height—which was around five foot two—and fixed Poppy with a terrible stare. ‘Whatever you’re trying to do, stop it.’

‘What am I trying to do?’ Poppy asked.

‘Break up a family,’ Mrs Cauldwell said.

‘What family are you talking about?’ Poppy asked, though she knew where this was going now.

‘My daughter’s.’

‘Do you mean her marriage?’ Poppy asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t have anything to do with that ending,’ Poppy told her plainly.

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But don’t do anything to stop it getting back together.’

Poppy burst out laughing. ‘What?’

‘It’s over with that woman. He knows he made a mistake. He wants them to move back in,’ Mrs Cauldwell explained.

‘He told you that?’ Poppy said, unsurprised. Of course, he was crawling back. It was the next step in the shitbag playbook when an affair petered out. Take another run at your ex, see if there’s any drama left to squeeze out! Pathetic.

‘He’s been to see me,’ Mrs Cauldwell said. ‘He explained everything.’

Poppy was appalled. ‘Has he talked to Norah? Seems like she’s the one who ought to be consulted on whether they're getting back together.’

‘She’s being obstinate,’ Mrs Cauldwell said with a tut. ‘But she’ll talk to him eventually. Just make sure you don’t stand in the way.’

‘Why would I...’

‘I know you. I know my daughter. I see what’s going on.’

‘Nothing’s going on,’ Poppy said, but it came out weakly. The trouble was that something had gone on. And Poppy had never been a great liar.

Mrs Cauldwell took a step forward. She was half a foot shorter than Poppy and shrinking by the second, but that didn’t matter. Her eyes could have made Dwayne Johnson feel five inches tall.

‘That little boy has a chance to have his family back together. Don’t ruin it for him,’ she warned icily.

‘What about her? Norah? You don’t think she deserves more than him?’ Poppy asked.

She didn’t mean herself; she was only talking generally. Norah deserved a lot better than Max, and she thought someone should at least say so.

‘Life is compromise. Didn’t your mother teach you that?’ Mrs Cauldwell asked. ‘I know she tried, but I guess it didn’t take. She’d be ashamed to see the example you’re setting for your child.’

‘Don’t bring her into this,’ Poppy said, getting angry. She was being accused of something she wasn’t doing and wasn’t planning to do. Norah didn’t want Poppy that way, and Poppy had accepted that, hard as it was.

But Mrs Cauldwell wasn’t disturbed by Poppy’s building anger. She seemed happy to have an excuse to go a bit harder at Poppy. ‘You know, I saw you on the TV, and I knew it wouldn’t last. And here you are, back in this house. Back down to reality with a bump. So you should know better than anyone that you get the hand you get, and you play it as best you can. Getting big ideas is the best way to get your heart broken.’

That was a pretty direct hit to Poppy's fast-disintegrating self-esteem. She needed to get the woman out. ‘Look, this has nothing to do with me,’ she pled. ‘If Norah wanted to get back with him, that’s her call.’

‘Not if you fill her head with ideas.’