What did I think I was doing? What if this all goes completely and catastrophically wrong? What if all those guys on the spreadsheet have just disappeared off the face of the earth, or died, or moved to Australia? Or then again, what if we actually do find Norman’s father and he turns out to be a heartless bastard who doesn’t want anything to do with him? Could I take that kind of a risk with my already broken boy?

I felt the world slipping and I leaned into the doorway for support. As the turbulence inside me subsided, I opened my eyes. Leonard was holding the door open for Norman to step out of the Austin and, just for a split second, our eyes met over my son’s head. I felt my nostrils tingle with the memory of sweet hibiscus tea and something else. Of summers and bicycles and beaches and a brown-eyed pony. Hold on tight, Sadie, love. I’ve got you.

16

Norman

FIRST RULE OF COMEDY:
Be you and nobody else but you.

IT’S PROBABLY FOR the best that I’m going to find out that Michael McIntyre and Frank Lampard aren’t my dad. I mean, I never really and truly thought they were, they’re just a couple of the suggestions Jax has come up with. P. Diddy is another, but I think he knew that one wasn’t ever going to be true because Mum’s never even been to America.

Jax reckons it’s actually pretty cool not to know who your dad is because, when you think about it, that means it could be absolutely anyone. Like I could be walking down the street after school one day and some guy comes belting around the corner and runs right into me, and after he stops to say sorry and help me pick up my books, like in a movie, we say goodbye and never even know we’re related. Which I actually think is about halfway between cool and weird.

Jax loves making up stuff about who my dad could be. Like, sometimes when we’re over in Truro with Mum he’ll see some guy coming toward us and without saying anything all of a sudden he’ll give me the elbow and do this funny sideways look with his eyes and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Or other times he’ll do that thing with his hands like he’s taking a photo of someone and whisper something like, just sayin’, Norman. Then we crack up, because usually the guy he’s pointing his hand camera to is totally no way no how ever going to be my dad. He even did it once to Mr. Tilley when we were in the bakery getting sausage rolls, and that was one of the best ones ever. And if Mum ever says, what are you boys laughing about, Jax goes, we just breathed in some funny air, Sadie, you should try some.

Mum says you can look at most babies and it’s hard to imagine their little faces growing up to be a teenager or a big hairy man, which she reckons is probably a good thing. But she says my face looked like me right from the start and I haven’t changed at all. Except for getting lots of psoriasis. Which she didn’t actually say, but it’s true. I feel a bit bad that Mum doesn’t know me and Jax sometimes talk about my dad, but I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings and make her think she wasn’t doing a good enough job or anything. Because she is. She’s totally the best at being a mum, it’s just that sometimes I do wonder if there’s a big hairy man walking around with a face like mine.