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‘How do you mean?’ Poppy asked, shrivelling by the second.

‘Well, you must have something from your pop days?’

‘Nobody wants old Velvet Smack merch, I can assure you of that,’ Poppy told her firmly. She barely had anything, anyway. She’d chucked a few boxes of T-shirts and mouse pads in the skip before she moved.

‘Seriously, Poppy? That’s very disappointing,’ Susan said.

‘But you’ve got to havesomethingcool from those days,’ said James, piling on, the bastard.

Poppy sighed. ‘I don’t have anything. And nobody would want it if I even did.’

‘Oh, come on,’ the guy persisted. ‘You’re underestimating yourself. Velvet Smack was a big deal. For a bit.’

Susan’s eyes lit up again. ‘Wait, how about this? You could offer a private performance. Sing a song or two from your Velvet Smack days.’

Jesus, what a haunting image. Poppy, in someone’s living room, performing old pop to some random family. ‘No, absolutely not. I haven’t performed in years.’

‘Please, Poppy,’ Susan said, her tone edging on pleading. ‘It would be such a draw. Think of the money we could raise for the school!’

The room collectively held its breath, waiting for her response. Poppy’s mind raced, trying to find an escape. But as she looked around at the eager faces of her fellow parents, she realised she was cornered.

‘I could offer a guitar lesson,’ she sighed.

‘Guitar lesson?’ Susan muttered to herself. ‘Yeah, I think that could work.’ She smiled and began to write it on the board: GUITAR LESSON FROM A MUSIC STAR. She paused and turned. ‘Did any of your songs go platinum?’

‘I guess,’ Poppy sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Noah” had met the number of sales to merit that award, but Poppy didn’t have the disc hung up. It was sitting in a box in the attic, an accolade for a song she hated.

Susan amended the board. “GUITAR LESSONS FROM A PLATINUM MUSIC STAR.”

Wait, I said, “Lesson.” Single,’ Poppy said quickly. ‘Don’t pluralise my offer.’

But that went unheard as the room erupted in cheers. ‘Great! It’s settled then,’ Susan said, clearly pleased. ‘Thank you, Poppy. This is going to be our best fundraiser yet!’

As the meeting continued with more ideas squeezed out of parents, Poppy and Norah exchanged glances. Norah mouthed, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and Poppy just shook her head with a small smile. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she mouthed back.

When the meeting finally adjourned, everyone began to file out as Poppy and Norah gathered their things slowly.

‘Are you really OK with this?’ Norah asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

Poppy shrugged. ‘I guess I don’t have much of a choice.’

‘If it’s any consolation, it’s for the kids, though. Worthy cause, right?’

Poppy smiled evilly. ‘Good point. Weallneed to make sacrifices for the kids.’

‘Right...’ Norah said nervously.

Poppy turned to Susan, who was packing up her dry markers. ‘Hey, Susan, did you know that Norah’s an amazing artist? You can do something with that, right?’

Susan was delighted. ‘Absolutely. Can you do portraits?’

Norah was horror-struck. ‘Huh?!’

‘Portraits, Norah. You could auction your talents off. Right?’ Poppy chimed in.

Norah looked like she wanted to murder Poppy on the spot. ‘I suppose so,’ she said from between gritted teeth.