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‘Luna, you ready for some lunch?’ she suggested, trying to distract herself from getting silly about Norah.

Luna nodded enthusiastically, and Poppy led the way to the kitchen, grateful for the simplicity of the task. As they prepared sandwiches, she chatted with her daughter about school. She was building friendships beyond Freddie now; Poppy was glad to learn. But he was still her best friend because he was good at Lego, which Luna valued highly.

At bath time, Norah texted her.Hey, when do I get my lessons?

She texted Norah back.It’s ONE lesson, and you seriously want it?

Don’t you dare try to renege!Norah shot back.

Poppy had guessed why she’d bought that voucher. The same reason she bought Norah’s. The winner didn’t want it. That didn’t shock Poppy, and she appreciated the gesture, but she was surprised she was going through with it. Poppy had thought it would be one of those things where they’d say, ‘Hey, we gotta do that lesson sometime,’ occasionally. And then never, ever do it.

But now she was going to have to get the guitar out, blow the dust off it, and teach Norah how to play. She’d have laughed if she hadn’t wanted to cry.

With a sigh, Poppy texted back:Sure, let’s do it.When are you free?

Almost immediately, Norah replied:Is it doable this weekend?

Yeah, how about we try it again after Luna’s asleep? Hopefully, with fewer nightmares.

Thirty

Poppy opened the door to Norah, acoustic guitar in hand. ‘Are you ready to rock?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Norah told her plainly. It had been a long day. She’d had a meeting with her boss, and he informed her that she was ‘Not meeting targets.’ Norah actually knew that because the targets were ridiculous. She assumed they were suggestions rather than true expectations. Apparently not.

‘Good, because rocking might be a bit much after the day I’ve had. We’ll just learn a few easy notes,’ Poppy replied, relieved. ‘Come in.’

They went into the living room. ‘Drink?’ Poppy asked.

‘Do you have anything with a proof?’ Norah asked.

‘Lemme check,’ Poppy said and went into the kitchen.

Norah sat down on the battered old couch, and a moment later, Poppy came out with a bottle of wine. ‘I don’t know how long it’s been here. I think it was my mum’s.’

‘But wine gets better with age, doesn’t it?’ Norah said.

‘I don’t know if that applies to Blue Nun,’ Poppy fretted.

Norah laughed. ‘I’m willing to risk it.’

Poppy sat down and cracked open the bottle, pouring them both a conservative glass apiece. ‘Let’s start small, just in case.’

Norah took a sip. ‘I’ve had better, I’ve had worse,’ she pronounced.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ Poppy said, sipping tentatively.

‘Your daughter asleep?’ Norah asked.

‘Yes, is your son?’

‘Just about,’ Norah said. She flopped back on the sofa with her glass. ‘Man, I’m knackered.’

‘I thought you were jazzed for guitar lessons?’ Poppy said.

‘Yes, I’mveryexcited to embarrass myself,’ Norah assured her. Something caught the corner of her eye on the wall. The portrait, framed and given pride of place above the mantel. Norah felt a blush building in her that she didn’t have time for. ‘Gimme that thing,’ she said, nodding to the guitar.

Poppy grabbed her guitar and sat across from her. ‘Let’s start with the basics.’