The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman Julietta Henderson (short books for teens .TXT) 📖

seemed quite delighted to see us. So much so, in fact, that he upgraded the two rooms I’d booked us to a suite. Which by the way was drop-dead, how-the-hell-did-I-get-this-so-right gorgeous, with huge sash windows, views of the ocean, two bedrooms, a sitting room and even a tiny balcony.

After the manager had left, Norman and Leonard went out to check on the view, and I took a step back and checked out mine. I followed the arc of Leonard’s arm, set within a perfect frame of sky and ocean, as he pointed out something far off towards the horizon, while the other rested easily on Norman’s shoulder. A sudden strong gust caught the bottom of the white voile curtains and whipped them out the doors. Just for a moment, the two of them were obscured from my view and I got the feeling there was more than one thing shifting in my universe.

Norman couldn’t wait to get down to the beach, but as far as I’m concerned, if you’ve seen one beach, you’ve seen them all. I mean, how different can a few miles of sand be? Was Welsh sand any better than Cornish? I doubted it and, frankly, all the conversation I’d been forced to make lately, combined with the worry of Norman’s meltdown and keeping this plan on the rails, had taken its toll. So, tucked up on the little balcony with a cup of tea seemed like it might be a pretty good place to be.

I leaned back on the hard wicker chair and closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze sharpening in my nostrils and what I realized was my first bit of solitude for two days. Had it really been that long? And that short? The screech of seagulls and the dull crash of the waves filled my ears and, just like that, the Swansea breeze picked me up and carried me down to the beach. I ran along the sand, chasing the birds, arms outstretched, shouting and laughing into the spray. I felt something warm and safe and bent into my father’s body as he lifted me up high and kissed my salty six-year-old head. I’ve got you, Sadie love.

A car horn sounded and my neck jerked forward on to my chest as I came back with a thud, heart pounding and eyes wide open to the ocean.

‘Sadie, my dear, are you alright?’

Leonard was leaning forward from the other chair on the balcony, his hand on my arm, looking anxiously into my face. So much for my alone time.

‘I must say you’re very pale. You look like you’ve . . .’ I willed him not to say it. Hoped against hope. Just leave it. ‘. . . seen a ghost.’ Ahh. Good shot, old soldier.

I drew my body up straight and looked hard into the sun for as long as I could stand it. I changed the direction of my gaze and, through the black spots shooting around my eyeballs, I could just make out Norman walking slowly along the beach. Head down, hands in pockets. Looking for shells or the perfect rock, or perhaps the meaning of life.

‘Hey, Leonard?’ Even inside my own head my voice sounded far, far away, and I wondered if he could even hear me.

‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Looking for Norman’s father and taking him to the Fringe and, I mean . . . this trip. You know . . . everything.’ I swallowed hard, sending a mouthful of words back down unused.

Leonard rearranged his bones on the chair, smoothing his trousers and straightening each shirt sleeve deliberately. He had the air of someone who hadn’t been asked their opinion for a very long time and wasn’t about to blow it by rushing in.

‘You know, I never got to see my Iris as a mother,’ he said finally. ‘We tried for such a long time, but in the end we just . . . well, we had to let it go. The idea. She was just too sad after four dear little ones who . . . didn’t quite make it. So she never had the chance to know what kind of a mother she might have been. What sort of a child ours would have been.’ He turned his old grey head to the sea and the breeze gently lifted a wisp of his hair.

‘But you do, Sadie. You know what kind of child you have. Norman is an extraordinary boy. Quite extraordinary. But, my dear, even an old codger like me can see how much he’s suffering from the loss of young Jax. As are you.’

The unexpected mention of Jax’s name landed a punch right in the tender part of my stomach and I sucked in my breath while the pain passed. Hold it, hold it, let it out. Leonard leaned back in his chair and patted his windblown hair back into place.

‘I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do any more than you, Sadie, my dear, and it’s really not for me to say. But I do believe it’s worth a try. And maybe there’s a young man who would benefit from being a father to a boy like your Norman. Perhaps he’s out there just waiting to be found. Maybe he needs Norman as much as Norman needs him. One just never knows, my dear.’

As soon as he said it, I knew where I’d heard that before. Jax and Norman often talked about how that one exact phrase could sum up everything you needed to know about the world. The idea that if none of us can ever know what’s going to happen next, then wasn’t absolutely anything possible? Even two teenaged, nobody, would-be comedians getting to the Edinburgh Fringe and making the whole world laugh. Because one just never knows. Oh, Jax.

But Leonard hadn’t finished.

‘On the other hand, my dear, you’ve also got to consider the ramifications of this trip for you. What would finding Norman’s father mean for you?’ I wasn’t sure I liked where this