A LITTLE AFTER TEN on Thursday morning, Poppy and I submerged ourselves in the clothes section of the supermarket. “This is nice,” I said, lifting a blue strapless summer dress.
Poppy looked over and blinked. “Yes, it is.”
My eyebrow shot up. “What, you’re not going to criticise?”
“No, Jem, it’s really nice. You should get it—you could even wear it with your plimsolls.”
With enough items in Poppy’s trolley to fill the two-foot gap on her hanging rail she’d discovered two days before, we moved from perusing the clothing to the toiletries.
“What do you think of this?” Poppy waved hair dye at me.
I stared at her before taking the box and setting it back on the shelf. “You can’t dye your hair.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re hair is beautiful as—”
Sean!
My head snapped up and round.
“Je
