The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman by Julietta Henderson (e book reader online txt) đź“•
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- Author: Julietta Henderson
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When I shook the Take That keys James came out of his trance and whisper shouted, aye, that’s them, you’re a wee champ, Norman! But then instead of us getting out of there like I thought would be a very good idea, he just sat down in the chair behind Slim’s desk with the money still in his hands and goes, well now, I’d love to take this bunch of cash, but that wouldnae be the right thing tae do, would it, Norman? I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. All I knew was that time was of the essence and we needed to get out, and also it looked like James had forgotten he was supposed to be whispering. Plus my head was getting really itchy around my ears where the hat was rubbing and I could feel a pretty big scab was about to fall off so it definitely needed to get out. So I kind of nodded and shook my head at the same time at James while also listening out for any noises that might sound like a bouncer coming up the hallway. Which was actually quite a lot to do at one time.
But James wasn’t looking at me anyhow. He had the money spread out on the desk in front of him and he was scribbling something on a piece of paper and talking to himself under his breath. Even though I couldn’t hear much of what he was saying, I did hear a few words like numbers, pension, times two, no bloody wonder, and lots of other stuff that didn’t make any sense to me. I also definitely heard a few robbing bastards in there.
After one last robbing bastard James did a really hard full stop with the pen and started counting out some of the money. He got to seven of the fifties and then stopped and counted one more and said, danger money, right, Norman? I didn’t know what was going on really, but I nodded because I thought if I just agreed with him it might hurry things up a bit.
Then he started talking again and quite loudly. So that’s three hundred and fifty quid plus our danger money. That’s what I’m taking. That’s about four weeks of my dad’s pension at one seventy-five a pop, added together and divided by two. Fair dos, I reckon, Norman. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be checking James’s adding up, but even though I’m pretty good at maths I didn’t even get to the four times a hundred and seventy-five part in my head because he was still talking.
My dad lost the whole lot, right, he goes, but I reckon gambling’s a mug’s game at the best of times and even if you’re not being diddled there’s a fair chance you’re going to lose. So what I did was split the difference, aye? Fifty–fifty. Rounded it down to what might have happened if the silly old bugger had put the lot through the pokies. Plus, three fifty is exactly what he owes on his moorings so I reckon it’s all coming out in the wash. Ye ken, Norman?
I’m telling you now I had no idea what he meant, but we had the keys to his moped and his dad’s money and all I knew was I wanted to get as far away from the Whisky-a-Go-Go as fast as possible. Faster even. Before we ended up coming out in the wash and dryer ourselves. James started putting the money back in the drawer and I thought maybe we were finally going, but then he suddenly stopped and looked down into the very back of the drawer and pulled out a thin notebook with a blue cover. He started flicking through it and every time he turned a page he banged the desk with his other hand and let out a few robbing bastards and some other stuff.
I bloody knew it, he goes. This place is totally crooked and it’s all in here in black and white. I wanted to say, actually, it was in blue but I wasn’t quick enough because he said, right, hang on a wee sec and then we’re off. I couldn’t believe it was going to be another wee sec before we made our getaway, which meant it was probably actually going to be at least a billion times longer, because that’s what adults do.
Not James, though. He stuck the notebook in his jeans, grabbed a thick black felt-tip pen off Slim’s desk and wrote something down on the back of a piece of paper. Then he stuck the note right in the middle of the desk where nobody would ever be able to miss it, even if they were almost totally blind. Which I bet Slim probably wasn’t. Then he goes, right, adios, amigos. Come on, Norman, we’re oot! I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be leaving a room, but that didn’t stop me from having a quick look at the note before we left:
Slim, I’ve taken my moped, my dad’s money and your cooked-up blackjack book. If you or your goons come after me, it goes straight to the cops. P.S. You really are a total bloody robbing bastard.
Isn’t that just the coolest?
James held the office door open so I could go under his arm, and when I went to step out into the hallway he goes, you’re pure barry, ye are, Norman. And even though I didn’t have a clue who Barry was, by the way James looked at me when he said it I reckon he must have been someone pretty cool. I felt so proud that for a squillionth of a
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