Norman’s Depressed

Norman sat perched on the edge of Evie and Divvy Dave’s floral patterned sofa, clasping a cup of tea in his hand, that gave a little tremble every now and then. As he’d been manhandled in the house, Norman’s mind had developed two terrifying theories about what was going to happen.

One, that Divvy Dave and Evie were going to torture him, or two that they were going to kill him. A third theory had entered his mind at this point which had been even worse, that it would be both. But instead, Divvy Dave had plonked him down on their sofa, while Evie had made him a cuppa. Somehow this terrified Norman even more. They weren’t exactly being friendly, although the biscuit on the side of his cup saucer was a nice touch, but the generous hospitality made him feel on edge.

At first, he didn’t want to drink the tea, for fear that it was drugged or poisoned. However eventually he succumbed, after noticing Divvy Dave kept looking at it pointedly. It was evident, that the man felt that Norman not drinking his wife’s brew was an insult to her tea making skills. Fortunately, it wasn’t drugged or poisoned, or if it was the effects hadn’t yet kicked in.

The living room they were sat in wasn’t what Norman had expected. It was, for want of a better term, a room that one would expect an elderly lady to inhabit. The sofa Norman was sat on had a sixties style pattern of flowers and plants decorating it, the television opposite him was an old-fashioned cube with a built-in relic VCR, and there was a cabinet filled with small China cat figurines next to it. A large cat clock mounted on the wall opposite Norman kept holding his gaze. It was one where the eyes moved from left to right. More worrying than the sheer amount of cat related items, was the fact that there didn’t seem to be an actual cat anywhere in sight.

‘You’re a lucky man you,’ Evie said, sitting down on the sofa next to him.

Norman would have scoffed loudly if he hadn’t been so scared. He didn’t feel like a lucky man. In fact, quite the opposite. Based on the events of the last hour he felt like an especially unlucky man. He glanced in the direction of Divvy Dave. The large brute of a man was sat in a custard yellow armchair that had seen better days. He was eyeing Norman with murderous intent, his goliath hands clenching the armrests tightly.

‘I…don’t follow,’ Norman said, looking back at Evie.

Evie pulled a face. She seemed to have calmed down a little since their last encounter.

‘Dave and I have been trying to have kids for a while…but…’

Evie trailed off, looking at Divvy Dave. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

‘Ah, I see,’ Norman said, nodding. ‘Well…it’s not uncommon in some men.’

Divvy Dave rose suddenly to his feet, fists clenched. Norman flinched, spilling some tea on his leg. It scalded the skin but he bit his lip. Evie was on her feet too, pacifying her enraged husband.

‘Word of advice, keep your mouth shut, drink your tea and listen to what I have to say.’

Norman nodded obediently and took a sip of tea. It was a bit milky for his liking but he didn’t say anything. He’d learnt his lesson. Divvy Dave was now sat down again. Norman could almost see the smoke puffing out of his flared nostrils. Instead of returning to her spot on the sofa Evie chose to remain standing, one hand resting gently on Divvy Dave’s shoulder.

‘Here is what we propose,’ Evie said, steeling herself. ‘We keep the baby, raise him or her as our own, you have nothing to with the child and you leave town.’  

Norman took a while to process this information. The cat clock ticked rhythmically and Divvy Dave breathed loudly. It had been clearly established that the two of them wanted to keep the baby, but Norman was a little surprised at the idea of him being cut out of the situation completely.

Over the last couple of days he’d been thinking about the whole sordid affair, and had been under the impression that they would want him to assume some form of responsibility for the child.

He took another sip of tea. In a lot of ways Evie’s proposal was the best solution to the situation for all parties concerned. She and Dave got the child they wanted and he wasn’t obligated to do any co-parenting. If it was down to him, he would have terminated the pregnancy but that wasn’t an option on the table. However, his main issue with the idea was the leaving town bit.

The prospect was an inviting one, especially with Elise going to Bristol. Norman had left before. However therein lay the problem. His time spent away had made him realise how much he’d missed his mum. He’d already abandoned her once. It didn’t sit right with him doing it again.

‘But what about my mum? She doesn’t have anyone else?’

Unexpectedly, Divvy Dave actually looked a little sympathetic.

‘And how is that supposed to work?’ Evie said hotly. ‘Little Werthing is a small town. We won’t be able to hide you from the kid forever.’

Norman bit his lip. Evie was right, although truth be told the kid would probably find out fairly soon regardless. Someone would let slip to him, even with the possibility of a pummelling from Divvy Dave as a result.

‘…perhaps we should let Norman think on it Evie. Talk to his mum first.’

Norman and Evie both looked at Divvy Dave, flummoxed. The big man’s eyes were focused on a framed photograph on the coffee table in front of him. From where he was sitting Norman couldn’t see what the photograph was. However, based on the décor of the house he could hazard a guess. Divvy Dave’s mum had passed away a year ago.

‘You sure?’ Evie said slowly to her husband.

Divvy Dave nodded.

Norman looked at the clock. It was quarter to six. If he left now and ran, he could possibly make it to the train station in time. He drained the rest of his tea.

‘I’ll talk to my mum tonight.’

Evie didn’t look best pleased but she didn’t protest. Divvy Dave cleared his throat and furrowed his brow once more, looking formidable. He’d clearly let his guard down a little too much.

‘Well if that’s all, I should be going,’ Norman said, a little awkwardly.

He got to his feet with slight trepidation, eyeing Divvy Dave as he did so, but the giant didn’t move. Evie did however.

‘I don’t have a problem with you talking to your mum Norman, but I want your assurance that whatever happens you won’t try to get involved with your…our child’s life.’

Norman glanced at the cat clock. It was nearing ten to six now.

‘I promise,’ he said.

Evie scrutinised him closely for a moment before nodding, apparently satisfied. Norman had responded quickly. He knew he didn’t want children, and he was pretty sure that the one he’d accidentally created held no interest to him.

‘Thanks for the tea.’

Evie grunted in response, sounding very much like her husband. Perhaps they’d been together long enough that they were starting to copy each other’s mannerisms and traits. Norman had no idea. He’d never held down a relationship long enough to know if that was a thing. Divvy Dave escorted him to the door.

‘Let me make one thing clear,’ he growled at Norman, before opening the door. ‘You tell anyone about this…apart from your mum…and I’ll break both your legs.’

Divvy Dave really was divvy, Norman thought to himself. Evie had announced the fact that he was the father to the whole of the Rusty Anchor. With Beryl the landlady as witness, it would have already spread through the town like wildfire. That being said the threat felt very genuine to Norman, as they were stood opposite one another in the house hallway. It was a narrow space, exacerbating Divvy Dave’s size and intimidating presence.

‘My lips are sealed,’ Norman responded nervously, mimicking the motion with his fingers across his lips.

Divvy Dave examined him closely, just like Evie had done moments before. Norman could feel time slipping away from him, and prayed that Elise’s train was somehow delayed.

‘Okay, now get the fuck out of my house,’ Divvy Dave stated, opening the door.

Norman didn’t need any encouragement and bolted from the property. Divvy Dave was still angered by the whole situation, but couldn’t help but smile seeing Norman flee through the doorway and sprint away down the pavement. He assumed it to be from fear, as opposed to the young man’s hurry to reach the train station.

~~~

Little Werthing Station was busy. At least busy for Little Werthing. It was a weekday and people who travelled away from the town for work were coming back from their shifts. The first thing he did when he arrived, after recovering his breath, was to scan the foyer to see if Elise hadn’t gone through the ticket barriers yet. He had a nasty stich and was massaging his side.

The majority of the people occupying the space were tired looking men and women, most wearing suits. There were a couple of families sat on one of the nearby rows of seats, and a homeless woman sat on another talking to herself. There was also a cleaner who was talking to one of the station guards. Norman was relieved to see that it wasn’t the same one he and Dominic had tricked last time he was here.

The small shop and café were fairly empty. Most commuters were mobile and heading away from the ticket barriers, arriving as opposed to departing. There was a group of college students huddled around a self-service machine though. Somehow a pigeon had managed to get into the foyer and was wondering around confused. Neither the cleaner or the guard paid the bird any attention but the homeless women was watching it, ironically, like a hawk.

For some reason Norman envisioned her staggering to her feet, swiping the pigeon up in one hand and biting its head off. He was getting distracted. He turned his attention to the departure boards, but didn’t look at any information about the trains. His eyes were drawn instead to the big live digital clock in one corner. The time read 6:15. How?

He’d pegged it to the train station and yet somehow it had taken him longer than fifteen minutes to get here. A devastating thought entered his mind. He hadn’t checked his phone when leaving the Foliswell residence. It was possible that the cat clock had been wrong. Damn feline time he lamented. Nevertheless, he scanned the board for the next train to Bristol.

According to the display the next one left in twenty minutes. Most likely Elise had already caught the one she had been waiting for, but it was worth a shot. He started to make his way to the ticket barriers, contemplating how he was going to get through them without a ticket this time.

His phone buzzed and he retrieved the device. It was another message from Elise. He stopped dead in his tracks. Someone walking behind him huffed loudly, as they were forced to manevour out of his way. He opened the message and although it was only a short one, he stared at it for a long time.

‘Train has just left, bye.’

It was so blunt and matter of fact, but then why shouldn’t it have been. It was the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. On top of everything else Norman had done, he’d delivered this final insult of not turning up to say goodbye.

‘YOU!’

He looked up. Moving towards him at some speed was the dreaded ticket guard he and Dominic had enraged. It was true then Norman reflected. He was cursed. At that moment, the confused pigeon flew in front of the ticket guard, making him flinch in surprise and stagger slightly back. Norman seized upon the distraction and turned and ran, his only consolation that at least not all birds in the world had turned against him.

~~~

Norman tried to compose a text on the way home from the station, but no matter what combination of words he tried nothing sounded quite right. Eventually, after nearly getting run over twice and almost walking into several lampposts, he gave in and returned the phone to his pocket.

He entered the town park. It was now well into evening but there were still a group of kids kicking a ball around. A couple of older kids were sat on the swings in the nearby playground. They were far too old to be in there but too young to be drinking and smoking, not that it was stopping them.

Norman was exhausted. Not physically. It had been a relatively light duty day for once. Emotionally on the other hand, he was spent. From both conversations with Elise and the Foliswell’s, only one of which he’d been prepared for. Really what he wanted to do when he got home was take a nice long hot shower, and stick on something mindless to watch in his room.

Norman would have done exactly that if he’d had known it would actually relax him and empty his mind. Even without trying though he knew it was folly. He needed to talk to his mum, about everything. Not only because Evie and Divvy Dave had asked him to, but also to unburden himself. There was a high possibility that she knew anyway, but nevertheless.

The kids playing football had set up makeshift goalposts using their jumpers and coats. They were shouting enthusiastically at one another. Although it was just a casual kick around, most of them were taking it very seriously. The kid in goal, a slightly chubby boy with short legs, dived as the only girl playing launched the ball towards the goal.

He missed and the ball rolled between the makeshift posts, as the girl’s fellow teammates cheered and whooped. The ball bounced along the ground towards Norman. The kids all shouted at him to kick it back. He did as requested, but his foot didn’t connect with the ball properly and it soared off at an angle. It hit the playground fence and bounced off to the left. The teenagers sat on the swings stood up quickly, startled.

Norman held up his hands in apology to the kids. Some of them looked annoyed, but the girl striker was laughing. Although she was clearly the best player on the field, the girl didn’t seem to be taking the match as seriously as everyone else. Norman hurried on through the park, eager to get home.

~~~

Just before he reached his house, Norman caught sight of Shelia talking to someone in a car. He quickly crossed the street, hoping to avoid detection. Somehow though Sheila sniffed him out and glanced up from the car, fixing Norman with a murderous stare. For a moment it looked like she was going to either shout at him or march right over.

However, the person in the car seemed more important so Shelia returned her attention to the driver, allowing Norman to slip away, much to his relief. He hadn’t managed to glimpse who was inside the vehicle, but dearly hoped that it hadn’t been Felinthia.

He didn’t run into anyone else before home, although he did spot a wandering fox, slinking between cars. They were definitely becoming more brazen. It wasn’t that late in the evening and people were still coming to and fro in their cars.

Norman checked his phone before letting himself in the front door. There were no messages or missed calls. It didn’t come as any great surprise. Elise’s message had been pretty final. In the hallway, he took a while removing his shoes. Even simple tasks seemed beyond him at the moment.

First shoe off, he paused. There were voices coming from the kitchen. When Norman had entered, he’d presumed it to be the television but that would only make sense if coming from the living room. His mum didn’t have a TV set in the kitchen. It could always be the radio, but there was something about one of the voices that seemed recognisable to Norman. Any suspicions of another person in the house were confirmed when he went to put his shoes on the rack.

There were a pair of well-kept black boots. They didn’t belong to Norman and looked to be size nines or tens. He knew for a fact that his mum was a size 6. It was also suspicious that she hadn’t called out to him when he’d come in. The woman had the ears of a bat.

Norman made his way down the hallway to the kitchen and slid open the set of French doors. His mum was stood with her back to the kitchen sink, a large glass of red wine in one hand. Sergeant Tom Braithwaite was sat at the small kitchen table. A mug of coffee or tea was sat on a coaster in front of him.

‘Evening dear,’ his mum said cheerily.  

Norman stepped hesitantly into the room. His initial instinct was that he’d done something wrong. Why else would Sergeant Tom be here? The only thing he could think of was that the station guard had reported him, after failing to catch Norman for a second time. But surely that made no sense. Norman had come straight from the station. There was no way Sergeant Tom could have got here before him, but then why was the policeman here.

Norman’s eyes were drawn to countertop space next to the draining board. There was another wine glass, this one empty but he could make out the red ring at the bottom, indicating wine had been in it previously. It was unlikely it was another glass his mum had drunken from, as she was a woman who liked a clean as you go approach to washing up, a practice she’d tried and failed to instil with Norman most of his life.

‘Evening Norman,’ Sergeant Tom said, looking a little awkward.

Something was definitely up. Sergeant Tom was usually so confident and self-assured. It was pretty much a requirement for the most senior officer of a police station.

‘What’s going on?’ Norman asked his mother.

‘Sergeant Tom just dropped in for a chat.’

She too now looked awkward. Norman nodded slowly. Sergeant Tom drank from his mug and cleared his throat. A deeply long and excruciating silence followed, before Norman’s mum eventually broke it.

‘Have you had dinner?’ she asked Norman.

‘Not yet,’ he replied, eyeing Sergeant Tom, who was keeping quiet and drinking his hot drink.

‘Well, there’s some lasagne left in the oven if…’

‘Can we talk?’ Norman said abruptly, cutting his mum off.

She looked a little side-lined. Sergeant Tom looked a little nervous.

‘Alone?’ Norman added.

His mum opened her mouth to respond but Sergeant Tom suddenly got to his feet, distracting her.

‘I’ve got to be going anyway. On late duty tonight.’

He finished his drink and handed the empty mug back to Norman’s mum.

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ he said stiffly.

‘Don’t mention it,’ she replied.

They locked eyes for the briefest of moments, before Sergeant Tom made for the hallway. Norman moved aside to let him pass.

‘Oh, by the way I saw some teenagers hanging around in the playground over at the park. They looked like they were drinking and smoking. Thought you might want to check it out.’

Sergeant Tom was knocked for seven.

‘…right, thanks very much Norman, I’ll take a walk over there.’

Norman nodded, also confused as to why he’d mentioned that. He didn’t hate the police, but he also didn’t usually go out of his way to help them.

He and his mum waited until the front door had closed behind Sergeant Tom, before either of them spoke.

‘Any chance I could get one of those?’ Norman asked, gesturing at his mum’s wine glass as he sat down at the table.

She nodded and reached out for the other wine glass before hesitating and retracting her hand. Instead, she placed her own glass down in front of Norman.

‘Take mine, the first glass went straight to my head anyway.’

Norman took a sip, glad that she was already a little tipsy. It would hopefully make the conversation slightly easier.

His mum pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down. She looked a little on edge.  

‘If this is about Tom I’ve been meaning to tell you, but wanted to wait for the right opportunity.’

Norman, who’d had been rehearsing what to say in his head on the way home, faltered. Tom? Since when were his mum and the Sergeant on a first name basis? Then the penny finally dropped.

‘You and Sergeant Tom?’

His mum nodded, rubbing at a wine stain on the table mat in front of her. Clearly Norman had been spending too much time in the company of Divvy Dave. It didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to work out something had been going on between the two of them.

‘I know it’s probably very weird for you…and really I should have run it past you first,’ his mum said, ‘but your father has been gone a long time now and I’ve been very…lonely.’

Norman took a big gulp of wine. It was weird but not for the reasons his mum was stating. At the end of the day, he wanted her to be happy. He knew that at some stage dating another person would be a possibility. He just never would have thought that it could be Sergeant Tom. That was the weird part for Norman.

He liked to think, or least hope, that his days of truancy were behind him, but that didn’t get rid of the fact that he and Sergeant Tom had an awkward history. It made things decidedly uncomfortable, in the same way that if she had decided to date one of his school teachers.

‘It isn’t serious at the moment but it also isn’t nothing. We care for one another and there is definitely something there,’ his mum said.

Next door’s dog could be heard barking loudly in their garden. The animal was well behaved for the most part, but occasionally something would set the hound off. Norman took another drink of wine, this time just a sip. He needed Dutch courage but he also wanted to retain enough of his faculties.

His initial thought was to tell his mum that he had no issue with her seeing Sergeant Tom. Yes, it was weird for him but her happiness was more important. Also, as far as Norman was aware, Sergeant Tom was a decent man and not just because he was a member of the police constabulary. Although nowadays wearing a badge was no guarantee of good moral ethics. He was just about to say as much when an idea suddenly popped into his head.

‘What would dad think?’ he said, giving his mum a fake look of disapproval.

‘I think…your dad would have wanted me to be…happy,’ came her stammered response.

‘Perhaps,’ Norman said, looking unconvinced.

For years his mum had floated the idea on and off that he should pursue a career in acting. Norman had never taken the idea seriously, not to mention his lack of work ethic or drive to do anything, apart from drink and chase tail. It was only now he realised how he’d potentially missed his calling in life. His fake expressions seemed to be working.

‘It’s important to me that you are okay with this,’ she said, reaching across the table and resting her hand gently on top of Norman’s.

The warm gesture almost caused him to break character but he fought hard against it.

‘I need time to think about it. It’s a lot.’

A flicker of annoyance flashed in her eyes. Norman feared he’d pushed his luck too far. However, she just nodded, patted his hand and sat back, recomposing herself. Norman counted to five in his head.

‘While we are sharing stuff, I’ve got something to tell you.’

His mum raised one eyebrow. She didn’t look surprised though. Norman had been better behaved since his trip away, but the drama with Evie and Divvy Dave had made his mum aware, that trouble was always somewhere on the horizon when it came to her son.

‘What have you done this time Norm?’

Norman was a little irked at this. Why did she have to assume it was his fault? He let it slide though. Instead, he relayed to her the conversation he’d had with the Foliswell’s and the proposed agreement. His mum listened attentively, digesting the information.

‘So, what do you think?’ Norman asked hesitantly, when he’d finished.

He’d slightly reprimanded her about Sergeant Tom as a guilt trip, with the hopes that she would be less preachy, judgemental and disapproving when it came to his turn.

‘I think going to Bristol is a good idea,’ she eventually decided.

Norman, who had the glass of wine raised halfway towards his mouth, paused. He replaced it gently onto the table.

‘You do?’

She nodded. Norman was surprised. He’d expected a less severe response than usual, but not this.

‘Your dad and I met when we were young, then he went off to serve. I never resented him for that. He was upfront with me the day we met that it was something he’d already decided to do. However, that didn’t make things any easier. Those long times apart were hard.’

She paused, and refilled Norman’s wine glass. He didn’t protest. Alcohol was always preferred when discussing his dad.

‘It sounds like you really like this Elise and she seems pretty sweet on you,’ his mum continued.

Norman scoffed.

‘Not anymore by the looks of it.’

‘I didn’t raise no quitter,’ she replied sharply.

Norman wanted to point out that being a quitter was exactly what he was, but the severe expression on his mum’s face made him sensibly reconsider.

‘If your dad here was today, I’m pretty sure he would tell you not to get hung up on the things you have done wrong in the past, but instead focus on what you can do right going forwards.’

Norman nodded, a small smile creasing the corner of his mouth.

‘You think we didn’t have our fair share of hiccups along the road?’ his mum explained. ‘It was hard work sometimes, but always worth it.’

Norman noticed that his mum’s eyes were slightly watery. He looked elsewhere. Avoiding conversations about his dad had been a skill Norman had mastered for years. It seemed to be getting harder the older he got though.

‘It’s not just about the girl,’ his mum reflected. ‘Although she definitely seems like a good’un.’

Norman nodded in agreement.

‘You don’t want to stay. There’s nothing for you here. Those no-good friends of yours, that dead-end job, nothing interesting to do. Is that really what you want to be doing the rest of your life?’ His mum asked.

‘But what about you?’ Norman pointed out.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

‘Mum, you’re all alone. Who’s going to help you with everything?’ Norman went on.

His mum chuckled. It helped ease some of the tension.

‘I raised you for a good part of your life alone and besides…I have Tom now.’

She glanced at Norman hopefully as she said this. He raised his eyes to the heavens and then leant back causally in his chair.

‘I guess you could do a lot worse than Sergeant Tom.’

She beamed at him. Norman coughed awkwardly.

‘You really think I should go?’ he said, changing the subject.

His mum nodded but her expression hardened slightly.

‘I don’t accept this business about not being allowed to see your own child though.’

Norman gave a heavy sigh. He knew she wouldn’t be happy about that part.

‘You want to see your grandson or granddaughter?’

‘It’s not me I’m concerned about but you,’ she replied, fixing him with a strong stare.

‘I told you I don’t want anything to do with the kid,’ Norman insisted.

‘You say that now but that might change in a few years. You’re still young but later you may think differently,’ she argued.

An image of Divvy Dave using Norman as a punch bag popped into his head.

‘Leave and never return. What a ridiculous sentiment. I’m happy for you to go out in the world and make a life for yourself, but I’ll be dammed if anyone is going to stop my son from returning home whenever he wants to.’

There were a few dull thuds and sharp crackles from outside, and Norman noticed coloured lights in the sky briefly through the kitchen window. Someone was setting off fireworks. That was why the neighbour’s dog was barking more than usual.

‘But what about Divvy Dave and Evie?’ Norman asked.

‘Don’t call him that, it’s not nice. Leave those two to me,’ she said determinedly.

‘Mum,’ Norman went to protest, but she held up a hand.

‘Seriously, let me handle this. I knew Dave’s mum and I happen to be dating the local police sergeant.’

Norman almost noticed a note of self-satisfaction in her voice as she said the last bit. He did as his mum said. He was scared of Divvy Dave and Evie but they didn’t hold a candle to his mum. He wouldn’t go so far to say he felt more relaxed, but some of the pressure had definitely lifted from his shoulders. His mum’s expression softened slightly.

‘So, what’s your plan?’

Norman thought for a moment.

‘Go to Bristol I guess.’

His mum chuckled, shaking her head.

‘That simple, just hop on a train and see what happens?’

‘Well yeah…no…I don’t know,’ Norman said, sighing.

His mum observed him fondly.

‘I agree you should go to Bristol, but I think you need to plan it out better. You tried winging it last time and look what happened.’

Norman nodded, well aware that he didn’t want a repeat of last time.

‘I guess I should look at places to stay…and jobs.’

His mum held up her hands.

‘Hold your horses. The first thing you need to do is actually visit there. You’ve never been before. Bristol’s a great city but not for everyone.’

Norman nodded, making a mental note.

‘I suggest you take a trip up for the day and start by finding Elise, because the conversation between you two is going to dictate what happens next,’ his mum suggested.

Norman liked the prospect of seeing Elise again, but was also afraid of how that conversation was going to go down.

‘And while you’re there you can check out the city, get a feel for the place,’ his mum went on to say.

Norman smiled. God bless his mum he thought to himself. When push came to shove, she always knew the right thing to say and do.

‘I’ll check out the buses,’ he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

His mum smiled and got to her feet. She went over to the kettle and flicked it on.

‘Fancy a hot chocolate?’

‘Yes please,’ Norman said, frowning at his phone.

She retrieved a mug from the draining board and began drying it.

‘Mum?’

‘Yes dear,’ she said, glancing round at her son.

‘Thank you,’ Norman said.

‘Always,’ she replied.

~~~

Norman sat at the back of the bus to London in one of the window seats. To reach Bristol by bus from Little Werthing you had to change at Victoria Coach Station. However, the good news was that he wouldn’t run into a certain train station guard, not to mention that the tickets were considerably cheaper.

It was a work day but he’d taken it off sick. His mum had said she’d cover for him, but Norman doubted anyone at work would actually care anyway. The bus was busy. Norman had been lucky. He’d managed to nab one of the last remaining tickets online the night before.

The bus engine rumbled into life, as the last arriving passengers found their seats. Norman was hoping that the seat next to him was going to remain unoccupied, but he was in no such luck. A young man with a rucksack took it at the last moment. He was tall and bearded, and wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. He was dressed casually in a hoodie and jogging bottoms. Unusually though, he wore boots instead of trainers. Norman looked out the window. He didn’t feel like engaging a stranger in conversation today.

The bus began to slowly pull away from the stop and Norman took a deep breath. Once again, he was venturing into the unknown, this time alone. His stomach was a bag of nerves but at the same time he felt quite excited.

Norman felt something press into his side. He looked down. The stranger was holding something in his hand. Norman’s eyes widened. It was a Stanley knife. The blade was retracted but the man’s finger was resting lightly on the lock button.

‘Hello Norman.’

Norman’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. Reluctantly, he raised his head. The sunglasses were gone and Norman found himself face to face with his old nemesis; Dominic Furnell.

© [Daniel Ashby] and [Ashby Tales], [2023]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Daniel Ashby] and [Ashby Tales] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.