The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman by Julietta Henderson (e book reader online txt) 📕

handed it back with a wink to Norman and a ‘You know, just in case you want to call me on your way back through.’ I’ll admit that just for a moment the thought had crossed my mind that there might have been something quite lovely lurking underneath that beard.

Hey. I don’t think you meant to send this to me, Sadie, because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t even in Edinburgh 13 years ago, ha ha. But I kind of wish I had been;) Think you better resend it to the lucky guy! Hope the trip’s going well. Tell Norman to keep up the practice and tell Leonard to drive carefully. Might see you on the way back home. I hope. Al (Big) x

The thought of typing out that sensitive and compelling message all over again to send to the right person almost did me in, even though hearing back from the wrong person was interestingly pleasant. But then Leonard arrived back with the very strong teas and some handy skills. After making short work of cutting, pasting and resending the message to Adam’s number (Get to Know Your iPhone in a Day at the Morrab Library last year), he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. To regroup, I sincerely hoped.

He’d loosened his tie and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal a tufty bit of grey hair waving gently in the breeze. With his face relaxed and mouth slightly open, he looked almost like a baby, albeit a very wrinkly one that had just nearly killed us. I wondered how many near-misses Iris had lived through in the Austin, and if, in fact, that was the reason she didn’t seem to mind being left at home while he swanned off to Edinburgh with us.

I sat up straighter in my seat to try and ease the pain that had given up coming and going since Swansea and had taken up permanent residence in my stomach. I twisted slightly and it came with me. As I continued to stare at Leonard’s oblivious side profile it occurred to me that, actually, he hadn’t so much as dropped a mention of Iris’s name since we’d left Barnstaple.

31NORMAN

First rule of comedy: Know how to handle the hecklers.

I don’t know what the word is for explaining how I felt when Leonard told us I’d got a place at the Duke Supper Club to do my show for the Fringe. I think it might have to be a brand-new word because it was actually like a whole bunch of feelings coming out like pick ’n’ mix. And they were ones you wouldn’t think would go together, like strawberry creams and liquorice, but I’m telling you they did.

I was really, really happy because it was the Fringe, baby, and I was actually going to get to do it, but then at the exact same time I was really, really sad because I wasn’t going to get to do it with Jax. And I was also really, really scared because Jax wasn’t going to be there and now I’m just this one guy on my own without anyone to feed the jokes to and run as fast as I can to keep up with. Hapscaredysad, maybe.

Oh, and proud. I felt proud.

When we got to Bournemouth I knew straight away I wasn’t going to be a Bournemouth guy, which is what Jax and me say when we don’t really like a place right off the bat. Like for instance we decided we definitely weren’t Falmouth guys when we went there on a school trip once. When we had our half hour of free time to walk around on our own, every shop we went into the shopkeepers would look at us like we were going to break something. Or steal something maybe. Even when we weren’t touching anything some invisible voice would call out don’t touch anything, you boys. For a town that our teacher said relies heavily on tourism to bolster the local economy, I reckon some people in Falmouth need to work on their hospitality skills.

To be fair, Jax probably didn’t help things. Every place we went into where there was a sign that said all school bags to be left at the door or the person in charge said don’t touch, he walked along with his hands about a millimetre above the snow globes and fridge magnets or whatever was on the shelf. Not touching but almost. Just to annoy them. Mum says Jax doesn’t always make it easy for people to like him, which when you think about it is true, and that’s an example. But the thing is, all the reasons other people don’t like him are pretty much the exact reasons me and Mum do.

Anyhow, no offence to Mum because, like she says, the internet isn’t always a clear and accurate representation of reality, but the reason I knew I wasn’t going to be a Bournemouth guy was when we saw our Premier Inn hotel. There weren’t any signs telling us don’t touch or leave our bags outside the door or anything, but it didn’t look anything like the one Lenny Henry stays in on the telly. It looked like a toaster from the outside and also felt like one on the inside. Which I wrote down on a Post-it to make a joke out of, but actually it turned out to be not that funny because it was true.

Mum had a bit of an argument with the girl at the desk when we were checking in because of what it cost Leonard to stay in a single room. Mum hardly ever argues with anyone so I got a bit of a surprise when she said, excuse me, but how does it make sense that if we’re paying forty-two pounds for a twin room he has to pay forty-five pounds for a single one? Which is right, by the way, and