Norman’s Wisdom

This was our first Live Fiction story, written between November 2010 and March 2011. Norman has the hots for Melanie, who is training alongside him to be a chef. But it seems that Melanie only has eyes for the suave Gerald Snodgrass…

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Bassett Hounds

“I hope Gerald knows what he’s doing” Melanie said.

“Crazy if you ask me.  Leaving aside that he might get caught, what how does he know what Ray wants done.”

“Who cares about Ray and whether he is even dead or alive”.

Melanie made some coffee and they sat down on her cream leather sofa and tried to relax. But it wasn’t possible. No sooner had she sat down than she was back on her feet. One moment she was pulling gently on the ends of her hair and the next moment pacing the room.

She tried Jen’s mobile for what must have been at least the fifth time, but it still went unanswered.  It was quite possible Jennifer had gone home, but it was unusual for her not to answer any of her phones unless she was unwell.

The afternoon wore on, but the first sign of anything actually amiss didn’t arrive until 6:30 that evening.  Norman had stayed all afternoon, mainly to keep Melanie company while she was so stressed, though his logical brain had said more than once “go home”. He had ignored his logical brain and remained.

As Melanie switched the tv on it was immediately apparent the report was from outside Bassett’s restaurant. Before the pictures appeared she heard a policeman answer in a clear voice “we think it’s quite possible this was started deliberately, though it’s too soon to tell if we are looking at a murder case”.

“Norman,  . . . NORMAN!”.  Yelled Melanie . “Come here, quick”  

Norman rushed in from the kitchen, but by the time he arrived the presenter in the studio was back on air.

Melanie burst into tears. Norman Assumed a position reminiscent of the one, years earlier, that he’d adopted with Wendy the night his relationship with Jenifer ended.

“They said they didn’t know who the victim was” whispered Norman.

“It’s Jen, Gerald has killed Jen, I know it’s Jen” wailed Melanie.

Ray had seen the same news broadcast, and was fuming. He tried phoning Jen too, and he got the same lack of answer. But, unlike Melanie, Ray had not the slightest idea who it was who had died. Perhaps there was a whole family of illegal immigrants living there without his knowledge, he mused. In fact, he found the whole episode hard to understand at all. Now all he had left had gone, apart from Jennifer,  and, of course, his debts. His debts were always at the back of his mind, gnawing away like some evil rat was inside his head, slowly demolishing his working brain.  The fire only added to his problems.

The police visited Ray in hospital the next morning, though the nurse would only let the officers stay 10 minutes. Ray told them nothing. He had nothing to tell.

“We think it was started deliberately”, the officer went on, “ and the offender had somehow got inside. “

Ray was no help at all, though he did tell the policeman the names of his staff.  They were to be the first to be interviewed.

Gerald was on the list, though as a new and temporary employee the police had him low down on their list.  Gerald was at home. He was acting like he had a rat inside his brain too.

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Apparency

Jennifer’s apparent demise did indeed untie the Gordian knot. All the things it had bound, free to move at last, slipped straight into Hell.

Let’s take Norman and Melanie for starters, then we’ll have Gerald for the main course and Ray Lardon-Bassett for dessert.

 Norman and Melanie, on the night of Jennifer’s apparent demise, finally got it together. Their bodies, ignoring the protest of their minds, knew what to do: when one of you dies, the best thing is to fuck and make another one. Their lack of precautions seemed to Norman, not so much good intentions overwhelmed by desire, but simply necessary. He didn’t visualize making a child, but anything between him and Melanie – even a pill – would have ruined it for him. As for her, she couldn’t have cared either way. Melanie was firmly in the moment because, outside the moment, her sister was apparently dead.

Gerald was intending to be really dead. Cooking the girl you love does not leave a man in the frame of mind to continue, so to speak. Unlike any naturally depressive character, who probably has decided how to do it a number of times, Gerald had no previous plan to call on. What he did have was workmanship, a bent for the practical and a heart condition, previously ignored, which might finally be of use. He ripped the cord from a lamp, pared the flex back far enough to allow him to tape bare wires across his chest: the notion seemed pleasant that a bolt of electricity would pass straight through his heart. Then he kicked the switch.

As for Ray, with insurance on the restaurant long ago lapsed for non-payment,  there seemed only one thing to do. Not being the suicidal type, he got religion instead – the kind that doesn’t involve God but does involve a turning round and seeing. And what he saw in his minds-eye was Jenifer. Ray knew that if he failed with her, he really would have destroyed his life. Discharging himself from the hospital, he took a taxi.

Since Jennifer was apparently dead, it was odd that she opened the front door.

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Aftermath

Melanie had been dreaming of Jennifer, terrified, locked in the restaurant cellar as the smoke slipped unstoppably through the crack under the door and flames consumed the kitchen. She had been dreaming of Jennifer pounding on the door and calling out for Melanie to save her.

“Mel, Mel, where are you?”

She had been dreaming of Jennifer, slowly dying from the smoke, her lungs seared by the heat and clogged by toxic fumes.

“Mel, I need your help”

She had been dreaming of Jennifer. Melanie had tried to get to her sister, tried to move but something held her back, held her tight, would not let her go. Jennifer was hammering on the door. Frantic.

“Mel, Mel. Are you in there?”

Any moment now it would all go quiet.

“Mel, wake up!”

Melanie managed to escape the nightmare just as the bedroom door opened and Jennifer walked in.

“Mel, I need to talk to you.”

Melanie, awake with a nightmare-fuelled adrenalin rush, saw she was naked in her own bed with Norman spooning her and holding her. Jennifer saw Norman naked in bed with her sister who looked ready to die of shock. Norman opened sleepy eyes to see a ghost of Jennifer looking at him naked in bed with her naked sister.

“What are you doing here?” they had all said in a passable version of unison before Melanie screamed, leapt at Jennifer and crushed her sister to her naked body. It was quite an image for Norman to remember.

“Oh God, Jen, you’re alive.”

It had taken over an hour to calm Melanie down; every time she had looked at Jennifer there had been more sobs and exclamations. To be fair, Norman hadn’t been in much of a better state but his shock at seeing Jennifer alive was nothing to the realisation that he didn’t mind her catching him naked, in bed, with Melanie, also naked. His inner teenager grinned at that and mentally high-five’d the older Norman.

It seems his subconscious had made a choice at last.

*****

That had been two months ago. Only two months? Norman sat at the kitchen table with his laptop and tried to get it all sorted in his head. It seemed more like a lifetime after the police investigation, paperwork, legal wrangling, announcements and interminable press coverage that had filled the intervening time.

The police had identified the body in the cellar as Luigi, the chef from La Trattoria. It seems that Luigi, unbeknown to the local constabulary, was an ex-Mafia enforcer who had testified against them and was in an Interpol witness protection plan. It was thought that his previous employers had found him and settled the score by the indiscriminate use of arson. The fire investigators said it was a very professional job and had it not been for the body suggesting murder, they may never have found the cause. The press had covered this with glee.

Gerald, however, could not appreciate this news and how he had got away with his first major arson. He could not appreciate anything really. Oh, he wasn’t dead. No, but he was in hospital with second degree burns to his chest and total amnesia brought on by a traumatic experience, the doctors said. His suicide attempt had been foiled by the modern circuit breaker which had cut the power as soon as the wires had shorted across Gerald’s sweaty skin rather than though the heart muscles as he intended. The shock had sent him flying backwards into the bed. That was how Room Service had found him the next morning. Why he had gone to a hotel rather than home no one knew and Gerald was in no position to tell. The press had thought this odd but not worth more than a small article on page nine. It would have made a page closer to the front if he had been found in a more compromising position, Norman was sure.

Jennifer had left the restaurant that night and simply walked for hours, trying to sort out her confused thoughts. It was only later she realised she had dropped her mobile phone, probably in the restaurant before Gerald’s pyro-thematic moment. She had walked to her sister’s house to talk about a realisation she had had. There she found had Melanie and Norman in bed. The press were not aware of this although the News of The World would probably have wanted a photo-reconstruction of a naked Melanie hugging her sister had they known.

Ray Lardon-Basset had tracked Jennifer down and proposed to her. His epiphany moment had been that he needed her so much and without her he was nothing. He had pleaded with her to make him the man he could be. Jennifer had agreed. It seems during her long walk she had come to understand her feelings for Ray. He may be a complete arsehole but he was a great chef and she was a great restaurant manager. Together they could be really great. The marriage would have a very interesting pre-nuptial agreement in place though. Two weeks later they had signed the partnership agreement of La Trattoria Nuova which was to rise phoenix-like from the ashes of its predecessor. Norman and Melanie were silent partners. Keeping it in the family, Jennifer had said. Keeping an eye on Ray, Norman thought. The press, who loved to cover the rollercoaster life of Ray Lardon-Basset, reported this vociferously.

“Gangway!”

Norman looked up as Melanie passed him at a run. A few seconds later the sounds of retching drifted back from the downstairs toilet. Ah, the morning routine. Fear and joy resumed their daily battle in his gut.  This time joy won. He was going to be a father!

The press did not care about this, who wants to report on good news?

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