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‘Probably!’

Feet were travelling up the stairs.

Poppy and Norah looked at each other in panic. Poppy had to think fast. She rolled off the bed, still extremely naked, and shuffled under the bed frame. She threw a quick thanks up to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of lust, that Norah didn’t sleep on a divan, or such an escape would not have been possible.

She heard Norah rustling about on top of the bed, pulling the blanket over her. The door opened. It amazed Poppy that Mrs Cauldwell hadn’t learned anything from the last time she’d made an unannounced appearance, but perhaps the habit of not respecting boundaries was a hard one to break.

Poppy could see Mrs Caldwell’s feet march partway into the room. Poppy held her breath, praying not to be spotted.

‘Norah,’ Mrs. Cauldwell said, her voice laden with disapproval. ‘You’re up late?’

‘I was just... reading,’ Norah replied, her voice muffled by the blanket. ‘I got carried away, I guess.’

‘I don’t see a book,’ her mother said.

Poppy looked around quickly and saw a book under there with her. She passed it up around the side of the bed that Mrs Cauldwell couldn’t see, and it was grabbed quickly.

‘It’s this,’ Norah said. ‘It’s about... space... things.’

Mrs. Cauldwell made a sour, ‘Hmmmm’ noise.

‘Speaking of which, how was your book club?’ Norah asked her mother nervously.

‘Good, thanks,’ the woman said flatly.

‘What areyoureading?’ Norah asked.

Mrs Caldwell’s voice changed, becoming hesitant. ‘Umm... A book about a woman who... Likes cooking. And then she decides to become a TV chef. But people try to stop her because... it’s the eighties. No, thesixties.’ There was a pause, and then shesaid, ‘OK, night!’ She backed out of the room, shutting the door quickly.

Norah’s face appeared upside down over the side of the bed. ‘I think you can come up now,’ she whispered.

Poppy wiggled out from under the bed. ‘Hell’s tits! That was ridiculous!’ she said quietly. She found her pants on the floor and pulled them on, bra next. She turned to see Norah watching her nervously.

‘Sorry,’ Norah whispered back.

‘It’s not your fault.’ Poppy looked around. ‘Where’s my jeans? How do I get out now?’

Norah shrugged. ‘Not sure of either.’

She sat down on the bed. ‘Will she come back in?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘So that thing your mum said about the chef book... That was a lie, right?’ Poppy noted.

‘Yeah, whatwasthat? I know whyIwas making up a book, but why was she?’ Norah said, wrapping the blanket around her body. She gave Poppy a small smile and lifted it so that Poppy could slide under with her.

Poppy did so enthusiastically, glad to be with Norah again. That minute under the bed had been an age of separation.

‘I think you might be trapped until my mum is out.’

‘How long?’

‘I’d give it an hour for safety.’

‘An hour? But what do I do if she does come back?’

‘Look, just stay under the covers. She probably wouldn’t even know you’re there if she comes in,’ Norah suggested.