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.
‘You’re not nearly as bad as I might have thought,’ Poppy said.
Norah raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve had better compliments.’
Poppy decided to try again. ‘I didn’t think this wouldn’t be your thing. But you have a natural dexterity with your fingers.’ Then she added quickly. ‘Probably from the... art.’
‘Well, it helps that I got a guitar lesson from a globally multi-platinum-selling artist. Great day for the diary,’ Norah snarked.
‘It was one platinum. One time,’ Poppy groaned.
‘Was it for “Noah”?’ Norah asked hesitantly.
Poppy nodded, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Hey, crazy question, totally random... Was “Noah” originally “Norah’s song”?’ Norah found herself asking.
Poppy looked stunned. ‘You recognised it?’
‘You played it a lot back in the day. I only heard it once with lyrics, but... when I saw you on TV, I recognised the tune,’ Norah explained. She hoped she sounded casual about it.
