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

wooden bench outside the Post Office, leaned my head back and closed my eyes, doing my best to make out I was just enjoying a bit of sun on my face. One, two, three, breathe. It’ll pass. I tried to imagine I was back in Penzance, trundling along in the bus on my way to Pearl’s to spend another interminable day at my meaningless job, where the only questions I got were about spare parts and overdue invoices and the only memories I had to face were about where I might have left my pen. One, two, three, breathe.

I’d rather hoped that, kind as she’d been, the girl and her dog might have just ambled away out of my life, but they were clearly intent on seeing the job through. When the wave of pain eased off to take another run-up, I opened my eyes and she was crouched on her haunches in front of me, arms wrapped around her knees, eye-line locked and loaded.

‘See, the thing is, and don’t freak out when I say this, lady, but I’ve been thinking and I reckon I know what the problem is.’

‘Oh?’ I sucked my breath in and held it.

‘Yeah. The way I see it, the main reason you’ve got your knickers in such a twist about all of this stuff is that, when it comes down to it, when push comes to shove, you just don’t trust your son.’

There’s really nothing quite like getting a serving of home truths on the side of a road in an out-of-the-way corner of Scotland. I heartily recommend it. I’m joking. I don’t recommend it at all. It’s possibly the worst place to hear your home truths, because there is literally nowhere to hide. You even have to sit there on a bench outside a Post Office trying to breathe your way through the most pain you’ve ever felt in your life and wait for a second helping.

‘What . . . what do you mean? Of course I trust him. You don’t . . .’ I knew it was me talking, but I didn’t feel like I had any control over the sounds that were coming out of my mouth and my throat felt like it was closing in. ‘He’s . . . Norman’s my son, I . . . I love him. I love him more than anything, I . . .’ Whatcha got, Sadie? ‘Of course I do!’

I blinked a couple of times to focus and I could see the girl still crouched at my feet, hands loosely linked over her black tights, waiting for me to finish. I wondered if perhaps I should mention that all three of her heads seemed to be having trouble balancing on her shoulders.

‘Well, yeah, of course you love him. I didn’t say you don’t. I said you don’t trust him. Because if you truly trusted him, you wouldn’t be so afraid of all the bad things that could happen. Think about it. Why are you so scared of your bairn trying to be a comedian like your dad? Maybe even better than what he was?’

I tried to blink the fuzz out of my brain. Geez, hadn’t she been listening?

‘Because you don’t believe he can do it, that’s why. You don’t believe it. Now, your boy, well, I’ll bet he’s scared shitless, too, but he’s decided he’s going to do it anyway. No matter what.’

A couple of stray minutes slithered by with their heads down as Goth girl’s words settled around me, sitting quietly, awaiting the finale. Because, somehow, it just felt like there was one coming.

‘You know, Jeff Buckley once said . . .’ Here it comes. ‘Wait, lady, are you OK?’

The girl leaned forward and put her hand on my knee and, just for a moment, I felt rock steady. I looked into her black-smudged eyes and nodded.

‘Sock it to me, Jeff.’

‘Well, like, I don’t think he made it up or anything, but he said a bird sitting in a tree isn’t scared of the branch breaking because its trust isn’t in the branch, it’s in its own wings.’

Now there’s a home truth for you.

Here’s another. Which may or may not have been related. The excruciating pain in my stomach chose that very moment to reach critical mass. With a huge involuntary spasm, my entire body bent double, causing me to lose my balance and topple sideways on to the bench.

Beyond Goth girl’s startled upside-down face, off into the distance on the other side of Cross Street, Biggar, I thought I saw a tiny bluebird with Norman’s face perched on the highest branch of a tree. Then the pain got so intense that I wasn’t sure of anything except that right there and then could be the moment I died.

43NORMAN

First rule of comedy: Always have a back-up plan.

I must have been practising for longer than I thought, because when I got up to get a glass of water, due to feeling a bit sick from all the chocolate and crisps I’d eaten, I nearly couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked at the time again. It was 5.31 p.m., and the last time I’d looked it had been 2.07 p.m. I couldn’t believe how fast time had gone and I wasn’t even close to coming up with a whole new routine, which is what me and Jax had decided I needed. Also, Mum wasn’t back and, even though she had said six, it was six at the latest. So that only left half an hour before it was going to be later than the latest she’d said.

By the time 6.01 came and there was still no sign of Mum or Leonard, I found out that maybe I wasn’t as brave as I’d started to think I was. Then at 6.10 I remembered I had my phone so I could just call Mum. But then at 6.10 and two seconds I realized that I didn’t have Leonard’s number programmed into my phone, which is probably something me and Mum should have thought of