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‘Yes?’ Poppy asked anxiously.

‘The songs you’ve done for Velvet are solid. But I want to talk about that debut we need,’ he said.

Poppy nodded, thinking,If you’re gonna kill me off, at least make it quick.

‘The thing is, I think we could have it. I want your demo track. “Norah’s Song.”’

Poppy’s stomach turned like a pre-pubescent gymnast. ‘What?’

‘I know you said it wasn’t something that you wanted people to hear, but I think it has hit potential,’ he went on. ‘I mean, we’d have to change the lyrics for a male name, pump up the rhythm a bit, but I think it could be a hit.’

‘It’s... I wasn’t... It’s not for people to hear,’ Poppy stuttered.

Jeff looked at her, puzzled. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s just... personal,’ she mumbled.

‘Poppy, you have to understand, we need a hit, or no one buys the album and all this collapses,’ Jeff insisted.

Poppy felt like she was backed into a corner. After all the pressure and insecurity she had been feeling, this was the last thing she needed. She couldn’t give him that song.

‘Jeff...’

‘Look, there’s going to be other opportunities around the corner for you if you can prove yourself now. You can produce anything you want after this is done. If we make this work.’ His voice dropped to a more confidential tone. ‘You know how every band has one member that makes it solo. In this band, that’s going to be you.’

Poppy couldn’t help but roll her eyes. ‘Jeff...’

‘Poppy, I want you to hear this. You might not see your potential, but I do.’

God, this was awkward. She was looking down on this whole situation, and here Jeff was saying he believed in it. She felt ungrateful.

She wondered what her mum would say. She wondered what her dad would have said. But she couldn’t ask him, and she was embarrassed to go crawling back to her mum for advice. She was an adult now. She was in the world. It was her choice.

‘You think the song’s a hit?’ she asked.

‘With the right producer, I feel it could be. It’s hooky, with a good riff and catchy chorus.’

‘But you want to put in a male name?’ Poppy checked.

‘Just to make it saleable to a large cross-section of the audience,’ he said like it was no big deal.

Poppy paused. ‘You know I’m gay, right?’

Jeff laughed. ‘You’re eighteen. You might be a lot of things before the dust settles.’

Poppy didn’t love that comment, but it was hard to argue with. She was not quite nineteen, and Jeff was a fifty-year-old music producer. He probably did know more about everything. He almost certainly knew more about what made a pop hit.

‘I just want you to know I’m not gonna have a footballer boyfriend or any of that shit,’ Poppy told him bolshily.

‘No one’s asking you to. I think Annalise and Rebecca have that side of things covered,’ he said with a chuckle. He seemed fine with her being herself, up to a point. So that was something.

‘What name did you have in mind?’ Poppy asked. She could feel the strength to fight him going out of her.

‘We’re thinking “Noah”. It’s sensitive but masculine at the same time,’ he explained. And went on, in his smooth persuasive tone, about demographics and the future of the band. By the time he was done, Poppy couldn’t do anything but sign over her most personal song.

And that’s how “Noah” was born, an utterly bastardised version of “Norah’s Song.” Loud, fast, and lacking in anything that Poppy felt had ever made it special.

It was number one for three weeks and played all over the place. It was indeed Velvet Smack’s breakthrough hit. Though, it turned out to be the biggest hit they ever had, and things kinda went downhill from there. Not that they didn’t push out two more albums that made a bit of money before Jeff called time on the whole thing.