Down in the kitchen, I made tea in the red-and-white pot Norman got me from a charity shop on my last birthday. Keep Calm and Drink Tea, it advised me every morning. Although not usually this early. After rummaging through a couple of drawers I found the lined A4 notebook I’d bought to write out my favorite Come Dine with Me recipes. Keep Calm and Write Lists, I scribbled on the front. Then I sat down at the table, took a swig of tea and brushed my hand across the paper several times, clearing away the invisible dust to prepare for the brilliance that was surely about to emerge. And, surprisingly, I did feel rather calm.

But it didn’t take me long to realize this was going to be a whole different ball game to Pearl’s Christmas party. Every time I was sure I’d thought of everything, I thought of something else. Find out exact date of the Fringe led to finding out the person in charge, finding out the rules and then eventually to simply find out everything. Buy train tickets led to checking off-peak prices, checking timetables and the genius maybe check buses, too.

The where to stay list filled an entire page once the plain and simple directive book accommodation had generated questions of where, for how long and how much we could afford. And what to take turned into three pages of random bullet points of things like buying Norman a new bag and a week’s worth of new underwear, plus a separate list of the various creams and lotions to take for his skin.

It was woefully inadequate, most of it was utter drivel and I probably hadn’t answered even a fraction of the most important questions I needed to, but it was a start, it was all I had and, frankly, I was exhausted. When I stood up to rinse out my teacup, the hair that was still wrapped around my finger caught on the tap and I felt it snap. I closed my eyes for longer than I could call a blink and a small blond boy darted past on the way to the biscuit tin. Feetfirst and damn the consequences. I can do this, I thought. I can do this. Because wouldn’t I do anything to make Norman smile?

12

Norman

FIRST RULE OF COMEDY:
When you think it can’t be done, try doing it.

I MISS HIM.

If I come in too early with my punch line or I’m too late and I accidentally leave Jax hanging at the end of a joke, he always goes, don’t worry, Norman, there’s loads and loads of time until we’re fifteen. But when Mum said she was going to help me make that new plan come true and I really and truly was going to go to the Fringe without Jax, all I could think was, there isn’t loads of time anymore. And I’m twelve and only just.

Jax says being scared is just your big old brain telling you that you can’t do something and brave is when you go ahead and do it anyway. He also reckons that I’m the bravest guy he knows, which is exactly the kind of thing a best friend would say, only I’m not really sure it’s true. Like even when my teacher said welcome back, Norman, and you’re doing really well under the circumstances, I was just thinking, if you could hear what my big old brain is telling me right now I’m pretty sure you’d take that back, Mrs. Ferris. And I miss him.