34

NORMAN WAS SLEEPING when I got back to the hotel room and, as I pushed open the door, Leonard sat up straighter in the armchair and put his finger to his lips to warn me. I tiptoed over to the bed and I could see, even in the low light and half covered by the sheet, that the onslaught on his body had noticeably subsided. Some of the angriness had retreated from the skin on his face and the huge scales on his chest that had looked so rigid just a couple of hours ago now seemed thinner, softer and almost translucent.

The newspaper-wrapped packets were spread out all over the desk and I could see that about five or six of them had been opened. While I couldn’t quite put my finger on the smell that hung in the air, something about it reminded me of when the Indian restaurant down the road starts cooking the korma for the evening rush, and I wondered if perhaps Leonard had got so lost he’d had to make a substitution for his Chinese medicines.

“He looks... I mean, I think...it looks a lot better, right? What did you get for him, Leonard?” Leonard’s lips twitched a little and he indicated with his thumb to the bedside table, where the plastic water jug that I’d seen earlier in the fridge was sitting alongside the kettle. In the bottom there looked to be the remnants of a manky compost heap, marinating in a thin golden liquid. I could see Leonard had definitely got good value out of the rest of the formerly white Premier Inn towels, and they lay in a messy pile on the floor, a lovely pale yellow in contrast to the two olive-green-stained ones I’d used on Norman for the ointment.

“You know, you were right, Sadie, this time, it’s...it’s something different.” Leonard’s voice was soft so as not to wake Norman, but I could see he was having trouble containing his excitement. “The Chinese gentleman I visited saw it as soon as I showed him the photos of Norman.”

“Saw what, Leonard?” I was slightly put out that a complete stranger thought he could give an expert diagnosis on my son’s chronic condition from a couple of photos on a phone, but then again, we’ve had worse.

“Come and look, my dear.” Leonard touched my arm and motioned me a little closer to the bed, pulling back the sheet gently so I could properly see Norman’s chest, rising and falling as he breathed.

“Now, really look, Sadie.”

I really looked. But all I could see was the old familiar enemy Norman had been submitting to for most of his life. Covering his lovely peaches-and-cream skin with its insidious scales and even decorating the spaces in between.

“What, Leonard? What am I looking at? I mean, like I said, it definitely seems a lot better, not as red...but all I can see is that bloody psoriasis coming for him, and I just...” I’d given up whispering and I saw the rhythm of Norman’s breathing change like he was about to stir.