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‘Yes?’

‘Can I live withyou?’ he asked.

‘Oh! Is that a worry?’ Norah asked, eager to settle it for him.

‘I don’t want to live with Daddy. He never plays with me. And he’s grumpy,’ Freddie said, frowning.

OK, Norah was starting to understand now. Freddie wasn’t worried his dad wasn’t going to be around because it wouldn’t be that different.

Though Norah had noticed Max’s absentness as a parent, she wasn’t sure how Freddie felt about his dad until just now. Hearing it broke Norah’s heart for him. She couldn’t change it, but she could give him a family where he was the most important person in it for everyone concerned, even if that was only her.

‘You’ll be with me most of the time and your daddy a bit of the time,’ Norah explained.

That was the deal they’d worked out without court involvement, thank god. He hadn’t fought her for even custody. She hadn’t thought he would. But that was for the best. If Max only had Freddie for one day a week, Norah thought he might focus on him a bit more than usual. Partly because he wouldn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t be able to bugger off at a moment’s notice anymore.

Norah doubted his new girlfriend would be very interested in covering his arse all the time. And why the hell should she? Why had Norah, come to think of it? She’d given Max such grace to do as he pleased. She’d expected practically nothing from him. Perhaps because she hadn’t thought much of him, she was sad to realise.

‘We’re going to be at grandma's for a while until I can find a place for us, a flat probably,’ she explained.

Freddie nodded, and then he got a twinkle in his eye. ‘Can I have a new bed with a slide when I get my new bedroom?’ he asked.

‘Yes, honey,’ Norah said, happy to give him anything he wanted. He could have asked for a visit from the cast of The Avengers, and she’d have gotten straight on the phone to Marvel.

‘I can’t wait to tell Luna about my new bedroom,’ he said to himself and turned, once again, to his toys, smiling.

Norah watched him play, feeling tentative relief. Freddie wasn’t completely devastated, not even close. There could be stuff down the line; she wasn’t discounting that. But Norah felt in her heart that as long as he had his mum (and a bit of therapy), he’d be OK. They’d be OK.

All this time, this had been what had stopped her. This conversation. Not ending her marriage, not leaving Max. Breaking her son’s heart. Hers wasn’t all that broken in the grand scheme of it because the millstone of Max would no longer hang around her neck. She was free from the misery of this crap marriage. She could move forward.

She texted Poppy.I need help moving. You in? There’s a pizza in it for you.

The text back was brief yet warming.Good opening offer. My counter? Pizza plus garlic bread.

Norah felt a truly happy smile slide onto her face.Deal.

Twenty Years Ago

Norah sat in the back row of the lecture hall, her notebook open but untouched. The professor’s droning voiceabout market analysis and financial projections felt like a distant hum. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t muster the enthusiasm that her classmates seemed to have. Business school was supposed to be a stepping stone to a stable future, a practical choice that her mother had hammered into her head. But it felt like a prison sentence, a daily grind that wore away at her spirit.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she glanced at the screen. A text from Joy:Turn on Channel 7. You won’t believe this.

Curious and desperate for a distraction, Norah slipped out of the lecture hall and found a quiet spot in the student lounge. She grabbed the remote and flipped the TV to Channel 7, some music show.

And there was Poppy, standing on a brightly lit stage, guitar in hand.

Norah had heard about this, of course. That Poppy had been recruited into some girl band. It seemed so wildly out of character for her that Norah hadn’t believed it at first. But there was no denying it now.

It had been a year since she’d seen Poppy. Seeing her now, in the flesh, was like a punch to the gut. Poppy looked older and more polished, but the essence of the girl Norah had fallen for was still there.

The camera zoomed in on Poppy’s face, and Norah’s heart hurt. It was only then that the music Poppy was playing filtered through to Norah. She knew this song. Norah’s irritation turned to cold disbelief.

It was “Norah’s Song”. A twisted, upbeat version, with her name replaced with ‘Noah’.

She sank into a chair, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Business school, the constant pressure from hermother, the loss of her artistic dreams—all of it paled in comparison to this. This was the final straw, the cruellest blow.

Norah heard that song many times that year, in pubs and clubs and at student parties. It hurt every time. But that first time was the worst. The moment she realised how little she truly meant to Poppy Jennings.

Twenty-Four