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

my eyes and let the kerfuffle wash over me. Like all the waves that had ever rolled on to the beach in Penzance while I wasn’t looking had turned around to roll back home. Come on in, I’ve got you, love.

The pain in my stomach was so bad I was seeing stars in the outer constellations, but for the rest of the journey to the hospital, with my head on a very comfy old lap and the rise and fall of Dicky’s voice as he filled Leonard in, for the first time in my adult life I did what Thelma and Louise never could. And while there’s not really a chance in hell I would have got around to surrendering any sooner, if I had, it probably wouldn’t have taken me and my insides quite so long to get right back to where we all started.

Within five minutes of arriving at the A&E of Wishaw Hospital I realized surrender was actually more of a requirement than a choice. But as it seemed to be working quite well for me anyhow, I allowed myself to drift off to check out the Big Dipper in a compliant haze of pain medication, X-rays, ultrasounds and MRIs.

At one stage I opened my eyes to see an earnest-looking doctor leaning over me so closely I could smell his cheese-and-pickle-sandwich breath. I saw his mouth moving and I heard inflections at the end of a series of noises so I knew he was asking me questions but, in full surrender mode, I just smiled and closed my eyes again. I vaguely remember thinking that Norman hadn’t asked for cheese on toast once since we left home, and that any medical person worth their salt would be able to look at my scar and make some assumptions about what had gone on down there without any input from me. Because I was having a break. Or maybe a breakdown. At that point, it didn’t seem to matter which.

After several laps of the hospital, up and down in lifts, along corridors, in and out of windowless rooms, lifted off and put back on the trolley bed like an unwanted dessert, I arrived at the end of the road. I don’t mean the real end, because I’m pretty sure Leonard wouldn’t be the first choice to man the Pearly Gates, bearing in mind the Wheeler Centre secure unit and all that, but it looked like the end of my hospital Grand Prix at least. So when I saw the worried look on Leonard’s face as he hovered behind the two nurses fussing around my drug drip I grudgingly decided that, while surrender had been a lovely place to visit and I’d definitely be back, perhaps the holiday was over.

‘Well . . . the decor’s not great, but it’s an improvement on Toad Hall, eh?’

My voice sounded weak and croaky and the attempt at humour was lame even by my standards, but Leonard grabbed my hand and brought it up to his face with a chuckle.

‘Indeed it is, my dear!’

Thankfully, my audience was easily pleased. I could only hope Norman was going to get that lucky. And with that thought I was catapulted well and truly back from my stargazing.

‘Shit, Leonard. Where’s . . . what happened? When did . . . how long have I been here? What’s . . . what’s the time? Norman . . .’

I wasn’t even sure myself what I was trying to ask, but I knew I needed to catch up. I struggled to raise myself in the bed and Leonard placed a very firm but gentle hand on my shoulder to push me back down.

‘Not to worry, Sadie. Just you lie back and relax. You’re going to be OK. You’ve got, um . . .’

He reached over to the end of the bed and unhooked a chart, pushing his glasses back on his nose so he could make out the notes.

‘Now let me just check to make sure I’ve got this right. Ah yes, an obstruction in, um . . . your small bowel. Probably caused by the old surgery on your tummy.’

I was pretty sure that I’d never told Leonard anything about my unusual start to life during our early-morning tea sessions, but he didn’t seem at all curious and just continued scanning the notes.

‘I’ve spoken to the doctor, Sadie, which was rather a . . . well, anyhow, he did eventually disclose some information after I . . . well, let’s just say it might be best if you called me Uncle Lenny when he does his next rounds.’ He leaned forward and gave me a wink and squeezed my hand. ‘Anyhow, he’s deciding whether you need to have new surgery to fix the issue, but he thinks for now they can probably manage it with the antibiotics and pain drugs, and it can possibly, maybe, perhaps wait until we . . . until you get back to Penzance.’

Don’t get me wrong, I was glad my number hadn’t been up on that bench in Biggar, but at that very moment I didn’t care if they’d decided to serve up my obstructed small bowel for staff lunches, like my father had suggested when I was born. I just needed to know that Norman was OK.

‘Leonard! Look, whatever, but will you please tell me what the time is?’

I could hear the hysterical edge to my voice, but I didn’t have the strength to check it.

‘What about Norman? He’s on his own. Have you phoned him? Is he . . . we need to see if he’s OK!’

‘It’s five o’clock, but it’s . . . it’s all right, Sadie. I . . . I haven’t quite managed to telephone Norman because, well, as you know, I mistakenly took your phone and the battery has now unfortunately died. I did take the liberty of going in your handbag to retrieve my own phone, but then I realized I don’t have young Norman’s telephone number programmed in anyhow. A rather unfortunate oversight, to be honest. But I thought when you awoke you might possibly know it from memory? I could . . .’ Leonard’s