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Her canvas whispers secrets only she can bear.

Norah, I can only implore,

That you let me be the one you adore.

With each stroke of your pen, let your story unfurl,

Norah, let me be the colour in your world.

In shadows cast by flickering light,

I watch you draw, lost in the night.

Each line you trace, my heart does ache,

For love I hide, for your sweet sake.’

Poppy's fingers slowed and stopped. She opened her blue eyes and met Norah’s gaze, licking her lips nervously. Poppy's last chord hung in the air, the sound slowly fading into the quiet of the room. ‘That’s all I can remember. I think there were probably a few more verses, but...’

Norah felt her heart speed up. At that moment, the tension that had been building between them since Poppy had arrived back in Northwood seemed to reach a tipping point.

Norah put her glass down.

‘What are you doing?’ Poppy asked, fear in her voice.

‘Putting my glass down,’ Norah said.

Poppy gave her a long, meaningful look. ‘Should I put my guitar down?’ she asked.

They both knew what they were talking about now.

Norah nodded, trying to hold her nerve. ‘Yes,’ she said simply.

Poppy put the guitar down. Before either of them could say another word, Norah leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft kiss. It was tentative and bumbling at first but soon moved to something more confident and deliberate, filling with the unspoken desire that had simmered beneath the surface all evening.

Sometime later, when they finally pulled away, they both wore matching expressions of surprise and disbelief, as if wondering if what just happened was real.

Just then, Norah’s phone went off.

‘I should check that. In case something’s wrong,’ Norah said, flustered.

Poppy nodded, smiling shyly.

But it wasn’t her mum, it was Max.Now that things have cooled down a bit, I think we should talk about everything.

Norah frowned at the message.

‘Is something wrong?’ Poppy asked.

‘Yes. Well, no. Well, yes,’ she stuttered.

She felt suddenly panicked. Her marriage had only just ended. She shouldn’t be doing this. Not with Poppy, of all people. As much as Norah wanted it, Poppy’s track record was unignorable. She’d let herself forget for a moment. She’d been hypnotised by the song.

But reality had come back into focus. Norah couldn’t jump into anything with Poppy. It would end badly, like last time. And then Norah would bethatperson, running from doomed relationship to doomed relationship.

‘What are we doing?’ Norah asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Poppy replied, confused. ‘What are we doing?’