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‘Alright, let's get that one,’ Poppy relented with a weak smile.

Luna beamed and clutched the magazine to her chest as they brought it to the counter. They passed an old lady who smiled at Luna.

The cashier rang them up. "That'll be £9.99," she said.

Poppy's heart sank. ‘I'm sorry, sweetie, Mummy doesn't have enough money for this magazine,’ she said regretfully. That was it, she’d said it. She’d never felt so broke.

Luna's face fell. ‘But you said I could get it,’ her lip quivered.

‘Can’t you just get theFrozenone? It’s cheaper.’

‘Oh, mum.... Pleeeeeeessseeeeee?!’

Poppy thought it over. It was four quid difference. It shouldn’t feel so crucial. Poppy would face up to her poorness tomorrow. ‘OK.’

Luna fist-pumped while Poppy paid, and they turned to see the old lady behind them now. ‘Tough, isn’t it? I remember that.’

Poppy nodded, embarrassed. They walked around the old lady and went outside, where Luna commenced ripping the plastic off the magazine.

‘I can’t do it,’ she complained.

Poppy took it and had a go. It was really on there.

While she was struggling, the old lady came out of the newsagent. ‘Oh, you’re still here.’

‘Yep,’ Poppy said, wrestling with the magazine.

‘You look familiar. Have I seen you before?’ the lady asked.

‘I just moved back here, so probably not,’ Poppy said. The plastic finally began to give.

‘No, I definitely... Wait a second. You’re notCarole’sdaughter, are you?’

Poppy was stunned. ‘Yes, I am. I’m sorry, I don’t—’

‘I run the café, The Sugar Cube? Your mother used to work for me.’

The memories came flying back. ‘Oh my god, Lilian? OfcourseI remember you.’

‘I know she passed. I’m so sorry,’ Lilian said sadly.

‘Thanks,’ Poppy said.

Luna let out a very big sigh. She was stuck listening to boring grown-up chat, but she’d just have to bear it. It was nice for Poppy to meet someone who knew her mother.

‘I remember you left to be a musician, didn’t you? Your mother was so proud.’

‘Thanks. But that’s over now,’ Poppy told her, still trying to fiddle the magazine completely from its prison.

‘You quit?’ the woman checked.

‘Sort of.’

‘I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not looking for a job, are you?’ the woman questioned.

‘What?’ Poppy asked, the plastic wrapping giving at last.

The magazine flew out of Poppy’s hands, but Luna caught it. ‘Yes!’ she cried.