Norman’s left leg bounced up and down, as he stared at the darkened one-way glass set into the wall opposite him, in the large police interview room. It was very cold, which was part of the reason his left leg refused to stay still. That and the fact that he was about to be interviewed by the police. He’d been waiting here for some time, which only served to exacerbate his nerves. Run ins with the law weren’t uncommon for Norman, but this was different. This time two detectives were involved.

His eyes drifted to the recording equipment on the table in front of him. Its presence in the room made the situation feel more serious, and it had already been fairly serious to begin with. Despite spending much of his youth in and out of holding cells, he’d never actually been in a police interview room before, or had himself recorded for that matter.

Apart from the interview equipment, table and chairs, the rest of the room was empty. Norman had wished they had at least left a bin in one corner. On several occasions he’d experienced severe nausea and almost thrown up. The bacon sandwich and coffee were not sitting well in his stomach. To distract himself from both this and the intimidating looking interview equipment, he got to his feet.

He rubbed his arms as he paced the room. It was quite likely that the temperature was actually cold, but the fact that Norman was run down had to be a contributing factor. His thoughts drifted to Al. He wondered what had happened to him. Had he been caught too? Or had his retrieval of the backpack been more successful? What’s to say he wasn’t back in the park now, waiting for him to return? It was an uncomfortable thought. If Al was, he wouldn’t wait around for ever. The lad had enough sense to keep moving. Norman had to get out of here. He shuffled over to the one-way glass and rapped on it with a knuckle.

‘Hello? Can someone tell me what’s happening? I’ve been waiting here for a while.’

It was meant to come out as forthright demand but ended up sounding more like a feeble beg. There was no answer. Norman moved back over to the table, doubting that there was anyone actually behind the glass anyway. It was painful to stand on his tender feet too long, so eventually he returned to his chair. It was hard backed and low down. Somehow the room was more uncomfortable than the cell Norman frequented back in Little Werthing. Perhaps this interview room was dedicated solely for out of towners and there was another more comfortable one down the corridor, he thought to himself.

The door to the interview room opened and Norman instinctively sat up straighter in his chair. Two people entered the room. Norman recognised them as the two detectives from the pub. The man was carrying two mugs in his hand and the woman a thin manila folder. She shut the door behind them as the man set the two mugs down on the table, one in front of Norman.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ he said with a polite smile.

The man had short hair and a well-trimmed beard, both grey verging on white. He looked to be in his mid-fifties to early sixties, but he moved with the stiffness of a much older man. Norman noticed that as he had walked into the room he’d been limping slightly. His suit was well pressed but not fancy, and his shoes were polished but not expensive. A pair of square framed glasses sat on his nose. He pulled out one of the vacant chairs opposite Norman and sat down.

The woman remained standing, instead choosing to lean casually against the wall. She was younger, perhaps late thirties, with shoulder length black hair, dark skin and hazel eyes. Her suit was also smart but affordable. However, unlike the man she wasn’t wearing a tie and the top button of her shirt was undone. Instead of shoes she had boots, but low-heeled ones. Norman glanced at her and they locked eyes. She had quite a piercing stare. He was reminded of PC Geraldine Myers.

‘Tea’s alright I take it? Or would you rather something else? Water? Or a soft drink perhaps?’ the male detective asked Norman.

‘Tea’s fine,’ he replied, wondering why the man was being so friendly to him.

Was it genuine or was he about to experience the classic good cop bad cop routine?

‘I’m Detective Inspector Andy Scully and this is Detective Sergeant Imra Mulder,’ the male detective explained, gesturing at his colleague.

She nodded at Norman cordially but said nothing. DI Scully took a sip from his mug. Norman did the same, expecting it to be equally bad as the coffee from the café. However, he was pleasantly surprised. It was actually a decent mug of tea.

‘I expect you’re wondering what you’re doing here Norman?’ Scully said, tapping his finger on the side of his mug.

Norman was. In his mind he and Al had caused a fair amount of trouble since they’d arrived, but nothing to warrant interest from a couple of detectives. He nodded at Scully. DS Mulder moved over to the table, pulled out the last remaining vacant chair and sat down. From the folder she produced a photograph and slid it across the table to Norman.

‘Do you recognise this man?’ she asked. 

He did. It was Al. Slightly younger and with a different hairstyle, but it was him alright. Norman’s throat became very dry all of a sudden and so he remedied it by taking a sip of tea. Scully clasped his hands together and leant forward on the table.

‘There’s no point denying it son. We have multiple witnesses who claim to have seen the two of you together last night and this morning.’

Norman looked down at the table, feeling trapped.

‘Why are you asking me about Al? I thought you were interrogating me?’

Scully and Mulder glanced at one another momentarily. Mulder, who had been quite stony faced up until this point, actually appeared a little compassionate.

‘So, to your knowledge this man here goes by the name Al?’ she queried, tapping the photograph.

Norman looked up at the two detectives, surprised.

‘What are you talking about?’

Scully sat back in his chair and readjusted the glasses on his nose.

‘The man in the photo goes by many names; Al is one, Jeremey another. His real name though is Dominic Furnell.’

Norman frowned hard, trying to process what the detective had just said. His head hurt, a lot.

‘I don’t understand.’

Mulder folded her arms.

‘Dominic has been using a fake alias for over a month now. Al is an invention. Mr Furnell isn’t even from Yorkshire. He was born and raised in Reading.’

Norman scoffed incredulously.

‘You’re having me on.’

Scully was stony faced, betraying nothing. Mulder extracted something else from the folder and pushed it slowly across the table to Norman.

‘Recognise this?’

The little colour that Norman had in his cheeks promptly drained. It was the missing bank card. He squinted at the name on the front, remembering the night before when he’d noticed it. Noticed and ignored. It had struck him as odd at the time, but he hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought that Al was anything apart from what he’d said.

‘We had a conversation earlier with a Sergeant Tom Braithwaite,’ Scully said, scratching his beard.

Norman bit his lip. He really had pushed his luck too far this time.

‘Nice chap,’ Scully continued. ‘From what I gather you are a bit of local legend over in Little Werthing.’

Norman opened his mouth to protest his innocence but Scully held up a hand. It was just as well. Norman didn’t know what innocence he actually possessed.

‘He was surprised when I told him about your little escapades with Dominic. Said you were a troublemaker but nothing like this. Is that true Norman?’ Scully asked.

Again, Norman didn’t know what to say so he just nodded dutifully. Mulder rapped her fingers on the manilla folder.

‘We’ve both been in this game long enough to know the difference between a no-good criminal, and a kid caught up in something he doesn’t understand. Isn’t that right Sergeant?’ Scully said.

‘Yes sir,’ Mulder said, observing Norman keenly.

Norman’s knee was bouncing up and down again. He knew what they were doing. Being reasonable to get him to rat on Al, or Dominic, or whatever his name was. Norman was torn. Part of him wanted to say nothing and protect his friend. True, the lad had got Norman in over his head but he’d also made him feel more alive than he had in years. Without Dominic, he would never have met Elise. On the other hand, he had lied to Norman about who he was, and if he had lied about that what was to say he wouldn’t just throw Norman under the bus to save his own skin.  

‘We have Dominic in the room next door,’ Mulder stated, as if reading his mind.

Norman studied the DS intently. She could be lying. Norman had watched enough detective shows to know it was a well-known intimidation technique to get someone talking.

‘He’s claiming that this bank card belongs to you. Well, in so much as you stole it,’ Mulder stated plainly.

‘That’s not true,’ Norman blurted out, unable to stop himself.

‘Well, we know that of course,’ Scully interjected. ‘But nevertheless, you were seen using it which makes you an accomplice. Do you know what the punishment for fraud is? Not much, I bet you reckon. You’d be surprised.’

Norman tried to take another sip of tea to calm his nerves but his hand was shaking too much to raise the mug, so he gave up.

‘There’s no point protecting him, Norman. If you do you will both go down. But if you tell us the truth, that you had no knowledge that the card didn’t belong to him or any idea of his real identity, then it will go a lot easier for you,’ Mulder laid out.

For once in his life Norman actually thought long and hard before he opened his mouth.

‘When you say easier…what exactly do you mean?’

Scully and Mulder looked at each other and smiled.

~~~

Norman sat on his backpack outside Clatchdale Police Station, occasionally glancing up and down the road. He didn’t know whether he was the luckiest man alive or the most cursed. After making the wise decision to incriminate Dominic Furnell and clear his own name, Norman had been allowed to go, with one condition. That he would leave Clatchdale and never return.

Norman was surprised. Not only was he essentially left off the hook for technically stealing drinks, but the two detectives had also returned his backpack to him. With regards to the unpaid train fare, it had been determined that Norman would pay the required fine out of his pocket, when he had earnt enough money to do so. Detective Inspector Scully had made it clear that he would be keeping in contact with Sergeant Tom Braithwaite to ensure that this happened.

The familiar sight of his mum’s red Toyota Aygo filled Norman with both relief and despair. It was odd to feel so much love for someone while being simultaneously shit scared of them. However, that perfectly encompassed Norman’s relationship with his mum. When he’d been escorted out of the police station Norman had kept an eye out for signs of Dominic, but had seen no sign of the friendly fraudster. It was probably for the best. The last thing he had wanted to do was to bump into him.

DS Mulder had been the one to escort him out of the building and although Norman felt in many ways like a changed man after meeting Elise, he still couldn’t help glancing sideways at the detective’s slightly opened shirt. There was something about a woman in a suit that was a turn on for Norman. However, his eyes didn’t linger as long as they usually did, although Mulder’s tough attitude might have been a contributing factor.

The Toyota pulled up in front of him as he got to his feet. He waited for the door to open and his enraged mum to climb out and scold him in her customary fashion. Unusually though she remained in the vehicle. Apart from a brief glance at him, she chose to stare out the windscreen in front of her instead. Her expression was hard to gauge from Norman’s position but she didn’t look angry. At least not obviously.

While he had been sat waiting for his mum he’d considered casually slipping away. No one at the station was keeping an eye on him, at least not to his knowledge. He’d been told never to return to Clatchdale but the detectives hadn’t stipulated that he return home to Little Werthing. The thought had crossed his mind to hit the road, hitchhike like Dominic had suggested. Only instead of with Dominic he would go with Elise. The two would escape the town together. However, the longer he’d sat there the less confidence he’d had in the idea.

For one thing he could barely walk. The pain in his feet had intensified tenfold since this morning. Also, there was the possibility, however slim, that he could run into Dominic. Scully and Mulder had claimed that he was being held at the station but how did he know that was true? If Dominic was free, the two could bump into each other while respectively hitchhiking.

Aware that he was still not in his mum’s car, Norman moved round to the boot, opened it and flung his backpack inside. As he shut the boot, he took one final look at Clatchdale Police Station. Apart from a solitary policeman stood on the steps talking on a phone, the place was quiet. As he stood there Norman decided that he wanted that to be the last time he left a police station. It wasn’t unusual for him to think this. He didn’t like ending up in the place, it just inevitably seemed to happen. Often this was a false promise he made to himself. However, this time it felt different. That he actually meant it.

He moved around to the passenger side of the car, opened the door and joined his mum inside. She was fiddling with the radio now. The engine was still running.

‘Thanks for picking me up,’ he said.

His mum stopped playing with the radio and turned to look at him. She gave him a good hard look, which made Norman squirm slightly.

‘You good?’

Norman nodded. He’d not been expecting this. Where was the lecture? The rage? The inevitable grounding?

‘This…Dominic Furnell, he didn’t hurt you, did he?’ she asked.

‘I’m fine mum,’ Norman replied.

‘Because I saw you limping when you got in the car,’ she went on, looking concerned.

Norman chuckled weakly.

‘No, that was my own doing. Running around with no shoes on. It’s nothing serious.’

His mum nodded slowly. Then she did another thing Norman hadn’t been expecting. She took his hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze.

‘Don’t do it again.’

It was technically a reprimand but she had said in a soft tone of voice, and Norman could tell it was more of a plea than an authorative order.

‘Ready to go home?’ she asked him.

He nodded. She gave his hand another squeeze and then returned it to the wheel. As they pulled away from the curb and began the journey back to Little Werthing, Norman tilted his head towards the window. He didn’t want his mum to see that his eyes had become very watery all of a sudden.

~~~

Norman slept most of the journey back to Little Werthing. The last thing on his mind before drifting off had been Elise. He knew he was making the right decision returning home, but that didn’t make leaving her any easier. It was so strange that he had fallen so quickly and heavily for Elise. They had talked a fair bit the night before but it wasn’t like they knew each other really well. The only other person that this had happened with was Felinthia, but it wasn’t the same. In the brief time Norman and Elise had known each other they had formed a connection. He and Felinthia might have had one too if he hadn’t been…well…Norman. The Norman everyone was used to.

Despite initial fond thoughts of Elise, Norman had a troubling dream. In it the scenario of the two of them running away together had played out in his head, and it hadn’t ended well. Initially, it had been good. There had been the same thrill of adventure he’d experienced with Dominic, only this time it was even better as it was with Elise. However, things had quickly soured. The driver, who stopped to give them a lift while they had been hitchhiking, was weird, making inappropriate remarks to Elise. He also had an unusually angular face, with a joker sized smile, deep sunken eyes and a distinct lack of eyebrows.

They’d eventually managed to get out of the leery ghoul’s car but Norman couldn’t remember how, the dream being a little foggy and patchy. The next part of the dream he remembered the most clearly, as it had featured a huge argument between him and Elise at some unknown petrol station in the middle of nowhere. His lack of courage in calling out the lecherous car driver had been a point of contention, but the main crux of the argument had been money i.e., his lack of it. The last thing Norman recalled before waking, was the sight of Dominic walking towards them across the petrol station forecourt.

Little Werthing was just over an hour away from Clatchdale but the journey felt much longer for Norman. The dream had been one of those long narrative ones and he hadn’t awoken feel particularly rested. If anything, he felt more tired. His mum was humming away to the radio, a sure sign that she was trying to act as if everything was hunky dory.

As they entered the familiar village of Little Werthing, Norman was surprised to find that he was actually happy to see the place. Something he thought would never happen.

~~~

Norman wanted nothing more than to just collapse on his bed as soon as they got home, but his mum was insistent that she give him a check over first. Being a nurse she both knew what she was doing and not to take any protestations from her patients. Norman was too tired to argue anyway, although he struggled to stay still as she applied antiseptic to the undersides of his feet. Once or twice, she told him off for his use of bad language but eventually decided to allow it.

Having sorted out his feet as best as she could, she ran him a bath. Norman raided the kitchen cupboards in the meantime, consuming every snack he could find. He knew he had to eat properly but for the time being he just needed to silence the pangs of hunger in his stomach. Appetite somewhat sated, Norman was finally left alone to his bath. Undressing was a painful process. Every muscle in his body ached deeply and felt like they had been stretched to tearing point.

It was even more painful lowering himself into the bath but his mum had thankfully got the temperature of the water just right. It was a gradual process and the longest part was getting his feet in first, but eventually he managed to submerge most of himself in the warm water. Within a minute he was fast asleep.

~~~

Sergeant Tom had visited the next day to check up on Norman. The conversation had gone as everyone had expected. Norman had been told to sort himself out and not go getting into trouble again. He’d promised he would. Both his mum and Sergeant Tom acknowledged this but looked sceptical as ever. This wasn’t the first time Norman had made a promise and they weren’t expecting him to keep it. Why would they?

~~~

The following week went by without incident. Norman returned to work. He was reprimanded by his boss for his poor attendance but that was all. Half the lads that worked for Mr. Cross at the fudge packing factory were guilty of the same thing, and he didn’t care enough about his job to do anything about it. Besides he knew they could only push things so far. They all wanted the money too much to continually skive off.

News had spread through the village of Norman’s exploits over in Clatchdale. Sergeant Tom had tried to keep a lid on it but the Merkel Sisters had gossiped, as Norman suspected they would. To combat this, he kept his head down and tried to get on with his job as best as he could. It was difficult. Elise was in his thoughts pretty much constantly. His absence at the pubs was noticed during the week, but people didn’t pay it much heed. They presumed he was too embarrassed by what had happened to venture out. At least until the weekend.

Norman was embarrassed but that wasn’t his main reason for not going to the pub. He didn’t want to fall back into old habits and in all fairness, he had no money. He was also trying to avoid hanging out with his old crew, although it was almost impossible given the fact that he worked with half of them. Still, he was unusually quiet at work and only made small talk as opposed to the usual banter and drivel they called discourse.

~~~

Friday evening came and to everyone’s surprise, Norman was nowhere to be seen at any of the pubs in Little Werthing. This was so out of character that even his mum came to check on him several times during the evening. Each time she would find him either reading or listening to music in his room, and each time he would say the same thing; that he was fine and didn’t want to go out. The same thing occurred on the Saturday evening. Barry and Frank stopped by to try and cajole him out, but Norman refused. Eventually they were chased off by his mum as they were trying to peer pressure him into coming out, by throwing stones at his bedroom window.

~~~

The next two weeks went by in much the same fashion. Norman attended work dutifully, arriving early each morning and leaving late every afternoon. Mr. Cross called him into the office on one of the days to make sure he was feeling alright, to which Norman insisted he was. Although he continued to see the other lads at work, they began to engage with him less and less as time went by. At first, they’d teased and taunted him about his strangely mature behaviour, but they soon lost interest. In the end it was decided he was a lost cause.

Norman continued to drink in the evenings but only the odd can or bottle at home, watching the telly with his mum. Occasionally he’d think of Elise but the frequency in which he did was less than the first week he’d been back. He still didn’t feel complete, something or someone was missing from his life, but at least now he felt a sense of purpose. He didn’t want to pack fudge for the rest of his life, but if he could at least earn enough money to do something worthwhile, than he could feel some sense of accomplishment.

~~~

People had begun to notice Norman’s change in behaviour and were more friendly towards him as a result. Everyone apart from his so-called friends that was. They hadn’t ostracised him from the group, but he got the feeling that they were muttering about him behind his back. They often suddenly stopped talking when he entered the break room at work, and now and again, he caught them staring at him during the shift. In the past this would have bothered him, but nowadays he wasn’t particularly fussed. To be honest he found the whole thing rather infantile.

One person that had taken particular interest in Norman since he’d begun to sort himself out was none other than Felinthia Loquacious Warburton. They’d run into each other a few times since he’d been back. First in a coffee shop, where Felinthia had been taken aback by both the fact he was there, and that he drank anything other than beer. Another time when he was out walking in the park one morning. Again, she’d been surprised to see him in a park, fully conscious and wearing all of his clothes.

Norman had tried to feign interest to begin with, feeling guilty for thinking of someone other than Elise. After the third encounter however he started to think that perhaps it was time he moved on from her. It was about being realistic. He wasn’t allowed back in Clatchdale, meaning that he would probably never see her again. He needed to direct his attention elsewhere.

~~~

Norman and Felinthia’s third meeting occurred late one night during the week. Usually, he went to bed at a reasonable hour on a weekday. It was an early start at the fudge packing factory and he was keen to prove himself and impress Mr. Cross, if that was even possible. However, on this particular night Norman had trouble quieting his mind and getting to sleep, so he’d decided to go for a walk to clear his head.

It was a cold frosty night and Norman’s breath kept escaping his mouth in misty clouds, as he walked down one of Little Werthing’s residential streets. It was quiet, as was to be expected during the week. A few of the houses still had their lights on but most had the curtains shut to keep in the warm. It was so dark that at first Norman didn’t notice the other night time wanderer, heading down the pavement towards him. They were a little way off so all he could see was a shadowy figure. For some reason Norman felt a little scared.

The light of an approaching car on the road illuminated the figure, revealing it to be none other than Felinthia. She was walking quite fast and kept glancing over her shoulder now and again. Norman noticed that although Felinthia was wearing a jumper it wasn’t particularly thick, and she’d made the foolish decision to wear leggings as opposed to jeans.

‘Norman,’ she called, still a little way off.

They closed the gap between one another.

‘Felinthia, how’s it going?’ Norman said.

His voice was shaky and it was a constant effort to stop his teeth from chattering.

‘I think I’m being followed,’ she said in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder again.

The car that had been moving along the road had now stopped. Bassy music was playing from the back of the vehicle and three lads were sat inside, watching them silently. Norman didn’t recognise any of their faces, which immediately sent alarm bells ringing. He turned his attention to Felinthia. She was wearing makeup but, it was minimal, and her hair was tied back in a bun. Norman had caught a whiff of vodka on her breath as she spoke, but she didn’t appear outwardly drunk.

‘…would you mind walking me home?’ She asked, a little awkwardly.

Norman glanced back at the idling car. The three lads stared back at him. It felt like something was about to go down. Norman stared back, despite being terrified. A moment later they began to slowly drive away, much to his surprise and relief.

‘You look freezing,’ he said to Felinthia, unzipping his fleece lined jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

‘And they say chivalry is dead,’ Felinthia commented.

Norman smiled at her. She smiled back.

© [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.