Globusz^® Publishing 

“Your room,” begged Katie. Norman led the way; Katie slipped into a black silk look dressing gown and followed him. He stood back in his room allowing her to enter; she drew the curtains before getting into the bed. The room was now dark enough to hide their blushes as they engaged in sexual foreplay. Norman sat on the bedside and fondled her breasts, he then stood up and undressed, not something he had time for when fucking Nancy. Being naked in bed was a first for Norman and a distant memory for Katie; this novelty factor heightened the event for them both, causing the pair to climax in record time. Norman lit a cigarette straight after. Katie told him to get some rest before his night’s work. She left the room with a silent grace; Norman felt no-less respect for her. He fell asleep and had to be woken by Nancy, on his mobile phone she gave him an earful. It was 6pm.Xmas eve and where the hell was he anyway. Norman made his peace and agreed to be there within 30 minutes. He showered, put on his doorman’ suit and strolled out of the house, “Have a great Xmas eve you two.” shouted Norman. Ernest was demolishing pie and chips. Katie was still in her room, she heard Norman’s upbeat farewell and sighed with relief as she now prepared to wash away her memory of that afternoon.

Norman knew this was no time to reflect on his afternoon as he quickened his steps to the Two Buttocks. Once inside he got stuck in to the chaotic activities needed to get the venue open on time. He was not his usual self when Nancy handed over to him. She was going off for a few hours and would return about 11ish.

Norman noticed behind the bar was untidy; he hated it when staff left junk around. He went through it, an assortment of worthless lost property and ex-staff belongings. A scarf of a former feminist barmaid was hurtled into the bin. He recalled how she had stormed out while a comedian had made one too many sexist remark; a reference that she preferred Men to liquor. At the very bottom of the junk was a book, Norman picked it up carefully; it was an easy introduction to Zen. He looked inside the cover, where by hand was written, ‘To Nigel, the world is a funny place this may help you keep laughing. Good luck the Doc.’ Norman waved the book at Doc, “Nigel’s left this book you got him,” he shouted over the music.

“Pity”, replied Doc. “he should have read it, could have helped him straighten out his fucked up life.”

“I will read it over Xmas, may I?” asked Norman.

“That’s what books are for,” stated Doc.

Norman went through to the office. He placed the book in his draw for safekeeping. Perhaps it can help me straighten out my fucked up life, he thought to himself.

 The venue would not open this night until eight. They had a late extension for Xmas eve. Norman slowly started putting change into the bar tills, he was feeling fragile as a panic attack got hold of him. His thoughts slogged it out like two boxers, ‘I have just had sex with my Auntie, oh God, my Mum’s sister, that’s even worse. No my step Mums sister, that’s better. But it’s still my Uncles wife, only my step Uncle though, but I like him. Then there’s Nancy, what if Katie should tell her about us, what us? Katie and me or Nancy and me? What if Katie confesses to Ernest? What if Nancy tells Katie about us? Oh no this is the best one, Nancy tells Ernest, Ernest tells Katie. Or perhaps Nancy just tells Ernest, Ernest keeps quiet, and then Katie confesses to Ernest also.’ He lit a cigarette and drew hard, this slowed his thoughts down. ‘I could deny fucking either of them. Bollocks, what about me, why is it always about other people? Tomorrow how about that, Xmas dinner with Ernest and Katie, how will she act?’ He knew Nancy was to spend the day with her family. “Is this comedy?” he asked himself. Could I use this tonight, should I? This is life; if life isn’t funny then we would have to close down the venue.”

Norman now just numbed by his situation, made a strong coffee, lit another cigarette and managed to clear his mind. Soon he was able to put his problems away for the evening as work took over his life.

Xmas eve. entertainment was well sorted out. Lots of Xmas nonsense, comedy twists to everything, prize draws, competitions, a comedy magician and two stand-ups. Norman would open the show with a short intro-spot; the Doc would compare. Nancy was returning to cash up most of the money, but would not hang around long. Norman would have to lock up and very late, as staff and the acts would expect a good late Xmas drink that night.

9 o’clock Norman left lottery Lenny on the door and after collecting a large scotch and a stool from the bar stepped up onto the stage. He placed the glass on a tall table to his left, lit a cigarette and just stared at the crowd. Doc watched on with great interest as he made some lighting changes. He respected Norman’s comedy and had considered managing him.

Norman produced from his large jacket pocket a red fez, his size and dress allowed him to do a Tommy Cooper impersonation. With one hand he turned the stool upside down, “Just like that” he said. A mixed reaction from those that had noticed him. He pulled out a gun cigarette lighter, pointed it at the crowd, then he pulled the trigger, it produced a flame. He then put it back in his pocket, Doc created a gun shot sound, and Norman pretended he had shot himself in the thigh. Doc despatched onto the stage one of his helpers. She was stunning, dressed as a 60s’ magician’s assistant from her seamed stockings upwards. “The lovely Marsha,” announced Norman. She knelt down, unzipped his trousers, placed her hand inside, and pulled out a white, limp object which she placed in her mouth. The crowd now cheered into a frenzied state. Marsha stood up; moving away from Norman to reveal it was a silk sheet she was pulling out of his pants. Having extracted it, she bowed. Norman did his zip up. Marsha threw the material over the stool. Norman stepped forward, grabbed two corners. To the amazement of the now captive audience, he shook the silk sheet side to side and just kicked the stool from under it, straight off the side of the stage and out of site. He then held up the sheet to reveal the stool had vanished. A smoke bomb added to the fact that most of the audience could not see that section of the stage caused confusion. Norman received a massive applause, some for his Tommy Cooper con trick, more from those convinced he had made the stool vanish and many more just joining in. Marsha took her bows as she left Norman on stage. “The Spin Doctor, Ladies and Gentlemen, your compare for Xmas eve,” introduced Norman, as he genuinely limped off the stage as a result of kicking the stool with his shinbone.

Doc rather pleased at Norman’s success having part devised the routine, now called for silence. He wore a Vicars collar. “I will ask you all please to remember the Religious hypocrisy, I mean significance, sorry, we always mix up those two, at Xmas. Here in an inn of all places we can just imagine if Joseph and Mary should call here looking for shelter for the night. Having paid a tenner each to get in, some fucking Aussie behind the bar would tell them we don’t do B and B. If they asked for their money back, the doorman would throw them out, troublemakers aye! You see it wasn’t Joseph’s fault, in those days things were different, he should know with a beard like that,” Doc pointed out a man near the front. “You see Joseph and Mary were just going away for Xmas, we take it for granted. But just think, they couldn’t book a hotel on the Internet in those days. No they had to walk hundreds of miles, up to the receptionist, got any rooms tonight, no, alright we better go home, spend a quiet Xmas. Off they go. But Mary’s pregnant, lets try an Inn says Joseph, I want en-suite says Mary. Women aye! Some things never change, that reminds me I only came up here to introduce, a woman, and here she is Betsy Norfolk.”

Once described by a critic as the Queen of Monotone, Betsy took to the stage she started her routine as always. “Good evening, I’m Betsy Norfolk, well I’m Betsy and I’m from Norfolk. Of course most country girls are big old girls, but I was the last of the litter see.”

Norman didn’t worry about the trickle of blood running down his leg, he propped himself up against the bar to watch Betsy. She was the only woman he really fancied since being deported to London. It was her that coined the phrase, “If you don’t laugh I’ll get my tits out.” She was tall, appeared flat chested and wore skin-tight stripy tops. However she turned men on big time. On the stage to compliment her top half she wore jodhpurs, riding boots and held a horsewhip. Much of her act was Norfolk country type stuff; Norman just gazed at her. She was thirty-ish, very white, with freckles and red hair; he had just fallen in love for the first time. Betsy did her size is important routine, “Look, all this, it’s what he does with it crap, forget it, there aint much to do with it, so the bigger the better, right, girls, girl power yeah. The price girls they should have been called, cause they all had one. ”

Norman drooling by now felt Nancy pat him on the shoulder. She passed him on her way to the office. This was his cue to collect the door takings and take them through to her to cash up. He would also collect up the bulk of the bar tills cash. Having to take his eyes off Betsy left Norman with an empty feeling.

Nancy was so pleased to hear Norman knock on the office door. She saw him on the desktop monitor and pressed the door release button. He had the notes in his enormous inside jacket pocket. Lottery Lenny had watched his back all the way. With the money on the desk, Nancy wrapped herself around her man. Norman managed to respond, but was still besotted with Betsy. He was ready for sex, Nancy was there and it was her shout. She turned her back on him leaned and braced herself on the desk. He lifted up her skirt, as she was not wearing knickers, he realised she had once again planned her sex for the day. Norman had no problem, still stiff from the sight of Betsy; he fucked Nancy so hard she wept with pleasure as she climaxed. Norman remained silent but satisfied; he noticed looking down a blond hair trapped in his watch-strap and recalled this was his second session of the day. Nancy cashed-up once alone again in the office.

Back in the venue Norman caught the last act in full swing. Mickey Finn was an East ender. Doc couldn’t stand him, but audiences could. Much of his patter was about his fictional ex-wife and the ever-changing East End, taking the Mickey as he called it, out of the Nouveau Pauvre. ‘If my poor old Gran could see that,’ or, ‘It’s the fucking principal mate,’ he would bellow at the end of most sentences. “ My Mrs. silly cow, doesn’t know that petrol prices go up cause she always buys a tenner’s worth; she’s my ex-wife actually, moan, even now, reckons I’m earning a fortune and she’s only getting 99% of it. Before I started this stand-up lark you know, I ad a proper job, working in a newsagents, assistant Manager actually baldy not paper boy. ” He yelled into the crowd. “ As I was saying, fing that used to crack me up, Trade Mags. It doesn’t matter what it is they got a Mag. for it. Sandwich Weekly, I ask you, industrial Flooring Up-date, that must be an exciting read.” Norman applauded, he liked Mickey. “Vegetarian Sex Tips, no not really I just made that one up. Vegetarians though, aye, fucking right pain in the arses or what. Why do they always insist on going into restaurants, not Vegetarian Restaurants and the first thing they ask is what Vegetarian dishes do you serve. I ask you, come on come on. Having been offered a cheese salad or an omelette, they then complain how Vegetarians are never catered for. Ah, one fucking day I’m going to go into a Vegetarian Restaurant and guess what, yeah the first thing I’ll ask is, what Meat Dishes do you serve; fucking Hippies.”

Nancy made her way through the crowd to Norman.

“Alright if Lenny walks me to my door?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Have a nice Xmas day with your family, see you Boxing Day,” she whispered and kissed his ear.

“Boxing day,” enquired Norman.

“I always go to visit Katie and Ernest on Boxing Day, can’t wait, bye,” she shrilled over the laughter.

“And anuva fing that winds me up, Stand-up Comedians,” continued Mickey.

The evening finished in good humour, with many of the customers still laughing as they left the Two Buttocks in record time by 1.am Xmas day.

Patrick and B.A. organised drinks for the staff. Mickey Finn had hung on for a free booze, as had Betsy Norfolk. Champagne on ice sat on the bar, Mickey proposed a toast, “Trevor McDonald,” he said. They all relaxed, settled into groups and reflected on the first part year of the Two Buttocks. The comics at their table were all trying to upstage each other in different ways. Norman sat with them but kept quiet; he chain-smoked and was drinking fast. Doc and his helpers left first. Norman then opened up, enjoying a conversation with Mickey. Betsy was more relaxed now it was just the three of them. The booze flowed. “Thank fuck he’s gawn,” insisted Mickey.

“He’s made this place work though,” answered up Norman.

“I’ll drink to that,” added Betsy.

The bar staff wished the three a happy Xmas as their taxes arrived and Patrick went upstairs Norman locked the door behind them. He excused himself as he collected the bar tills and took them through to the office and into the safe. He then just sat behind the desk reflecting on his lot in life.

B.A. was now fighting a losing battle with Mickey on the subject of her Art, “So why call it Ceramics if it’s Pottery,” he said. “I did Pottery at school, juniors though. Here’s a bit advice for you, if you want to make some serious dosh, invent a glaze that shit don’t stick to. Goodnight girls.” He downed the last of his drink and scarpered under the most contemptible stares imaginable out into the relative safety of the streets of East London.

“Hating that little scumbag is perhaps all you and I have in common,” blurted B.A. through her braced teeth as she made her way upstairs to the flat.

“Mickey says goodnight, B.A. doesn’t,” said Betsy as she entered the office. “I locked the doors behind them.”

“Let’s get back to our drinks then,” said Norman in a nervous tone. He followed Betsy still dressed in her stage clothes back through to the bar. “I love sitting here when the customers have gone,” he said.

“Yeah I can understand that,” she replied, “so Norman who are you and what brought you here?”

Norman told her a well-edited version of his life story; as he left out Nancy and Katie, she asked him what he did for sex these days. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, you know client confidentiality.”

Betsy laughed. She asked him what he had planned for the Xmas day. He explained with head down.

“You should come to mine,” she offered, “have your lunch with your family and then come over. I’m not going to my family till Boxing Day. Your company would be great; we can try out material on each other as we’re not rivals.” Norman accepted her offer. They continued to talk, Norman fancied Betsy like crazy, but he held back. His situation at that time was complicated enough; he thought perhaps he could have Betsy as a friend as they were kindred spirits. It was daylight as Norman suggested coffee now they had solved all the World’s problems. “If only the World’s leaders would sit down and get pissed together,” said Betsy. They left the Two Buttocks together at 8am Xmas day. Betsy headed off in the opposite direction to Norman. She would get a minicab home. “Phone me later Norman, if you can make it, or even if you can’t,” being her parting words. He waved; she noticed a book in his hand.

Norman was pleased that Ernest and Katie were still fast asleep as he tiptoed up the stairs and back into the sanctuary of his room. He undressed, got into bed and prayed he would be undisturbed for a few hours at least. He had overlooked the Xmas lunchtime session he must attend with the family at the Prince of Wales. As Xmas day had fallen on a Thursday, the Two Buttocks would not re-open till the following Wednesday New Years Eve. It would then stay closed for re-decoration only to re-open on February the 14^th. This change of routine for Norman was causing him much concern. He had talked to Doc about him possibly doing stand-up at other venues. All this was on his mind lying in his room as Ernest called him. “Come on Norman, it’s 11 o’clock, bathroom’s free, need to be down the Prince for twelve.” Norman, tired, confused but without a hangover responded. He ventured downstairs in good time to be greeted by Ernest and Katie both very excited at the day being Xmas. Katie had prepared the lunch which would slow cook ready for their return.

“First drink is free,” said Ernest as the three set off. Soon they were all settled in the smoke filled Pub. The jukebox played the Xmas standards. Norman had to sit with Ernest and the lads from the brewery. Katie sat apart with her group of ladies. At 2 o’clock by tradition landlord Charles told them all to piss off to their homes, if they had one. ‘Sorry ladies for me French,’ he would say every year, confirmed Katie as they left.

The smell of Katie’s cooking skills reminded Norman it was 24 hours since he last ate. He noticed Ernest and Katie seemed close for the first time since he arrived. The two men sat in armchairs, having helped themselves to their McNaughton’s supply. Ernest had poured Katie a very large sherry. She clearly was flattered by his new found manners an attention. Norman was just so relieved there was not a strained atmosphere. He even considered the possibility that he had dreamed of the sex with Katie and decided to leave it there. Pushing his luck even further he mentioned his invitation from Betsy. Ernest thought it about time Norman found a young lady, even if she was called Betsy and did turns. Katie seemed absolutely relieved.

“She’s not a Lebanese is she? Lot of them about these days,” shouted Ernest.

“He means Lesbian, Norman, but just ignore him,” shouted Katie even louder.

Norman was sent into the hallway to phone his parents and wish them a happy Xmas, before being allowed his lunch. He nearly passed out waiting to tuck in.

Next came presents from around the tree. Nancy had taken care of this for Norman, so all were very happy. Norman took note of these token gifts and their responses; he thought he could do a routine on this.

As it was still just Daylight, he decided to check out if his invitation from Betsy was still on. He phoned her from the outside toilet as he relieved himself. “What’s that noise,” she enquired.

“Just doing the washing up,” replied Norman. Betsy gave him her address. He made his excuses to Ernest and Katie and headed off for the local minicab office.

“Dock head please,” asked Norman. A few minutes later just south of the river Norman caught sight of Betsy. He stopped the cab. She had insisted on meeting him there, as she needed to stretch her legs. Betsy lived alone and had spent the day so far, on her own. They went for a walk at first, she led him through some old back streets to the river; Norman loved it, all was new and exciting to him as they viewed Tower Bridge and sat on a metal bench. Norman had lived in the very small world of Ernest and Katie since coming to London whilst all this was just round the corner.

They headed back to Dockhead and onto the wharf side apartment which was home to Betsy. Behind iron gates a cobblestone courtyard welcomed them. She lived on the ground floor. They entered though a solid wooden door. For Norman he had entered a new world. The apartment was like something out of a film, a massive studio apartment. A Zen space thought Norman, only the bathroom was not at first visible as they entered the huge living area. Not wishing to seem uneasy he settled into a massive armchair. Betsy called him over to the glass doors she had opened. There he marvelled in silence as the River Thames filled the wharf. Betsy pointed to the end of the block of apartments where the Thames flowed by. “I feed ducks from here and even swans come,” she exclaimed.

The two then settled in the centre of the room. Betsy offered Norman red or white wine, he took red and got his own bottle, Betsy hers. The conversation easily picked up from their last meeting. Cigarette smoke hung in the air-changing colour as it passed through the coloured spotlights. The background music, unknown to Norman, seemed perfect to oil their time together. He braved a trip to the toilet, ‘It just gets better,’ he thought, ‘this is great, what a shower-room and a bath. He could see himself in the tub; it has space for drinks, perhaps a cigarette and relax just relax he thought, but not on your own, she must share this but with whom had Betsy shared all this?’ He returned to the main room, the incense now burning added to his wonder as Betsy smiled. They chatted for hours, she was interested in his career plans adding, “There is talk of you on the circuit you know, well Doc’s circuit anyway.”

Norman discovered he had an ego, “Who were they and what was the circuit?” He asked in an embarrassed manner.

Betsy explained it all to him, he may have become a stand-up by default, but he had to take control now. She would work with him, Doc was offering too, “So, Norman” she said, “make today the first day of the best of your life.”

Norman sighed, “If only.”

Betsy dimmed the lights as the river rose outside the apartment. “Just relax now for a while,” she whispered. Then changing the music to suit, she closed her eyes and dozed. Norman did the same, an hour passed with their silence.

On opening her eyes, Betsy gazed at Norman for a while as if deciding. She then walked to him. As he slept she tugged his arm in time with his breathing. His eyes opened as she led him to the bathroom. There she undressed before entering the large shower room. Norman did the same as he came to his senses. In the showers she passed him fruit scented gels. The water was a perfect temperature, the noise like a waterfall. Betsy had her back to Norman as he massaged the gel into her soft skin working his way down her body. She then leant over the controls, he worked the lather between her legs and she turned the shower off. Norman convinced he must be in a dream, entered her easily. Betsy moaned with pleasure, she turned the showers back on gently. As he enjoyed her he had uninvited thoughts, he heard the John Lennon song in his head. ‘So this is Xmas and what have you done, I have fucked three women in 36 hours is what I’ve done, that’s one every 12 hours John, he smiled. Is this, what they call stand up comedy he asked himself,’ as they both climaxed then continued to shower. Betsy turned round showing her very small quite perfectly formed breasts to her lover. She held them in her hands offering them to him with bright pink erect nipples. He fondled them, “Follow me,” she said. Leading him first to the towel rack where they dried each other off, then through to her king-size bed back in the living area. The unmemorable perfect music was still repeating as in the darkened end of the room they enjoyed each others naked bodies, both bringing the other to climax again before falling into deep sleep.

Norman awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking. He peered over the duvet to see Betsy in all her tall slender beauty moving around the apartment at lightning speed. She was cooking, cleaning and to his complete amazement practicing on her baby grand piano. He rose, not embarrassed by his nakedness, wished her a good morning, waved and walked through to the bath suit. After a great shower, he grabbed a clean towel and located his clothes. Back in the living area he lit a cigarette and swigged his glass of red wine. Betsy carried their cooked breakfast to a small table, set just inside the balcony doors overlooking the high tide. The room was very cold. She placed a bottle of red wine centre table. “Come Norman breakfast and fresh wine” she beckoned him. They tucked into a hearty, meaty breakfast washed down with the wine. The coffee that followed with sweet pancakes sobered the pair somewhat.

“I think we can say we bonded last night Norman,” said Betsy, “Let’s stay friends for ever.”

“Sounds just perfect to me,” Norman replied straight away and without any visible thought.

It was still only 8am Boxing day. Norman cleared away the breakfast mess. Betsy returned to speeding round the room. She stripped the bed depositing soiled linen into her washing machine, produced fresh bedding and threw various personal items into a suitcase.

“I have a taxi booked for 8.30,” Betsy announced. “It can take you home after it drops me off at Liverpool Street Station. I have to spend a few days with my family in Norfolk but I’ll call you when I get back.”

They were soon in the cab and Norman returned home. He tiptoed to his room without incident, to await his next challenge. He continued with his reading.

“That was Nancy on the phone,” Shouted Katie at Norman’s door waking him, “she’s on her way over.” Norman stirred, rolling over onto Nigel’s Zen book. He felt pretty clean after all that showering at Betsy’s, so just went to the bathroom to wet his hair. Back in his room he worked some gel into his head with his fingers. That done he braved the world of Ernest and Katie. She was busy in the kitchen and explained Ernest had been banished from the house to tidy the already tidy backyard. “He gives off some terrible smells Xmas time, same every year, all the rich food and the booze of course. Good job the brewery doesn’t smell like him else no-one would want to work there, or buy the beer,” she moaned. Then pulling the back door closed she addressed Norman, “Need a word really,” she started, “Xmas eve, awkward really, got me going again really, after, I got thinking how to put things right. It wasn’t that wrong! We are not related flesh and blood wise. But I’m still your Auntie, old one at that, so I just needed to move on for both of us really. Later that night, for the first time since that night the Labour party got in, I slept with Ernest.”

“Well it is Xmas,” said Norman, “the time of giving, Auntie.”

“That will do, thank you very much Norman,” he recalled this haute tone. “So no need to dwell on the past is there, certain things best left to lie.”

“Of course Auntie Katie, talking of which, perhaps we could not mention Betsy today, with Nancy coming over I would prefer not to,” he added.

“Best you tell Ernest that right now,” she said opening the back door, “he’s the blabber mouth.”

Norman had a word with Ernest and they came inside together. “We should get along to the Prince now,” insisted Ernest. “Nancy will know where to find us.” The three set off just past mid-day. “Like old times,” said Ernest. “We don’t see so much of you Norman, since the two thingies opened.”

“Buttocks,” shouted Katie, Norman laughed, they all laughed. Well, thought Norman to himself, ‘That’s one down, two still to get sorted on the women front.’ They entered the pub.

Norman knew the plan. He would sit with Ernest and the lads from the brewery. Katie would sit with her ladies, to be joined by Nancy. Katie and Nancy would leave the pub to go to the house and get lunch sorted. Charles would throw Ernest and Norman out of the pub at 3.15. Lunch would follow, then Monopoly. Norman had told Katie he didn’t understand how more than one person could play Monopoly; she’d clipped him round the ear, “Smart ass,” she’d called him.

The Prince of Wales was very busy, through the smoke rising from their table Norman saw the security man from the brewery walk by. He strolled over to the ladies table, leant over to whisper to Katie. She let out an enormous shriek, and then burst into inconsolable wailing. Her lady friends did try to comfort her, without success. Ted the security man stepped back turning to Ernest. Norman heard the words, “It’s Nancy, she has been killed in a car crash,” he said, “she was coming here in a minicab when a coach in the Old Kent Road hit them. The police told her family, they phoned the brewery, I’m so sorry.”

Charles had stood beside Ernest as Ted broke the news, he went back behind the bar, turned the music off and then the lights. He sent his barmaids round telling customers a tragedy had occurred. It was 2 o’clock some customers, not locals, left out of respect. Charles passed around brandy bottles.

Norman could not speak, or move. However as Katie’s cries became louder, he moved to her holding her tightly. He looked over at Ernest, flicked his head to invite him to come over and take his wife. Ernest just about got the hint and walked over; Norman gently passed Katie over to him. “Best if you take Auntie home,” he said. Ernest nodded and led his wife out of the pub. Her lady friends still wept, quietly. The Boxing Day had just ground to a halt. Norman sat back down with the lads from the brewery. Charles joined them, putting his hand on Norman’s shoulder, only to comfort him because he was the youngest to be effected by the news. No one knew he had been Nancy’s last lover.

On this tragic day, Norman stayed put in the pub. He wanted to give Ernest and Katie time and privacy, after all it was their home and their friend, he thought long and hard. He decided to return home as planned at 3.15. He entered the house, Ernest was sat in his armchair, he told Norman, Katie had taken her painkillers and gone to bed. Norman switched off the oven, then poured brandy for the two of them. Charles had insisted he take a bottle home. They sat in silence as the room became darker and darker and then just dark. Norman’s cigarette glow providing occasional light. ‘Our little secret,’ those words he kept hearing in his head, Nancy had taken the secret with her now.

Early evening Ernest rose from his chair, put his hand out to hold Norman’s, nodded his head and went to join Katie. The effect of the brandy caused Norman to feel nothing at this time; a little sick, wretched and lost perhaps, but no feelings he could focus on and deal with. He creped out of the house and walked the short distance to Nancy’s. There was a light outside, that came on in the dark Norman knew this. He sat on her wall and wept. When he could cry no more without looking back he returned home. There was plenty of brandy left in the bottle; he put the television on low volume allowing himself to be sucked into the programmes he was watching. Firstly he was a cowboy then a gangster, then asleep.

This morning after Boxing Day being Saturday brought some familiar sounds, to awaken Norman. The milkman, the papers and junk mail rattling, even children playing with their Xmas presents. He had slept the whole night in the armchair, out of respect really and confusion. Having never known anybody before to die, Norman was on a learning curve. He heard noises from above, Katie then walked into the lounge. She had put the kettle on then sat at the table, lit a cigarette and looked over at Norman.

“She was like the sister I wish I had, we were closer than I was with your mum,” said Katie.

“Same sort of thing with me,” replied Norman.

Katie not understanding his reply said, “If you want to get away from all of this, we would understand, come back in a few weeks or so, up to you, our problem.”

“Nancy was my friend as well as my boss,” answered Norman, “so I will stay around if that’s O.K. with you two, I would like to help you both through this.”

“Tea Norman, “she offered, “I’d better take Ernest up a cup.” Norman accepted her offer. The weekend had now got going. Norman and Ernest slouched around; Katie was busy on the phone. She talked at great lengths to Nancy’s family. As the three of them would not return to their work at the brewery until the first week in the New Year, Katie instructed the two men to start getting out from under her feet, as soon as they liked. She took to cleaning the house non-stop with old pairs of Ernest’s Y-Fronts as her way of dealing with Nancy’s death. Ernest did as he would always do in holiday time nothing, apart from go to the pub twice a day. There, Katie’s ladies were absent, often to be found visiting each other.

Norman found comfort and understanding from reading Nigel’s book; in his room he waited for life to come to him, it did, via his mobile phone. Sunday evening, two calls. Betsy first, had suffered enough of Norfolk and was returning to London the following day. Paddy, concerned about the future of his Two Buttocks called just after. He wished to meet up with Norman at the venue the following day.

Having now been motivated Norman ventured out to catch the last hour with Ernest at the Prince. The lads sat telling old brewery tales of former mates and how they had died. Norman could only stand this morbid time by wandering what plans Betsy and Paddy had for him in their heads.

Early Monday morning, Katie set the routine for the rest of their time off. “I want you two down here for breakfast at 8.30 just imagine you’re in a hotel,” she said in sarcastic tone, “only in this one you both wash up after.” Her voice had echoed round the small upstairs. The two men made it on time; both demolished a full cooked breakfast. Whilst they washed up Ernest complained, “Katie why do we only get this condemnation in the winter?”

It’s condensation you half-wit and do you want it in the summer as well?”

Norman was embarrassed by their minor tiffs, but amused by Ernest’s misuse of words.

Katie went on to talk of the funeral, ‘Nancy’s family would make all the arrangements. Katie would invite all that needed, from her side of the river. Nancy would be buried beside her late husband in South West London, on New Years Eve at mid-day.’

Ernest nearly chocked over his cup of tea. “New Years Eve!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“You have a problem with that dear, busy are you? I’ll explain,” whispered Katie, “her family feel she should be buried the same year as she died, so at great expense they have arranged it. I agree.”

Norman’s phone rang allowing him to sprint back upstairs to safety. It was Paddy, “I’m at the pub now, come round when it suits, boy.” Norman grabbed his long black coat and set off the short distance. Outside the Two Buttocks he noticed a brand new Jaguar. Wonder how many laughs that cost, thought Norman, guessing it would belong to Paddy.

“See you’re suitably dressed, Young Norman,” said Paddy, sat waiting in the bar.

“The only coat I got.” Answered Norman, “but you’re right.”

Paddy gestured, “Sit down son, we need to talk. I’m gutted, I can’t tell the wife, it’ll kill her stone dead. She’s only got months now herself.” He lowered his head. “Must talk though. The funeral’s New Years Eve. I will not open out of respect that night. We will re-open as Nancy planned Valentine’s night, good idea that was, there’s loads to get sorted here first though and regulation stuff now the fucking council’s found out we’re a venue. I would like you to take over as the manager here. She would have wanted that, what you say boy?”

Norman thought the assumption that dead people, ‘Would have wanted that,’ as obscene as it gets. He bit his tongue and paused, “If you’re sure,” he answered.

“Yes here’s my mobile number Norman, the work doesn’t start here till first full week in the New Year and we’ll talk before then. You’ll need to give your notice in at the brewery. See you at the funeral.”

Norman left Paddy sitting there. He let himself out. Walking back home his thoughts were on Paddy, What sort of man was he?’ ‘Nancy knew.’ His life was again getting complicated, now he had to leave the brewery. He looked forward to hearing from Betsy; perhaps he could share all his news with her. Ernest was fleeing the house as he arrived, on his way to the snooker hall to meet up with the some brewery lads, to pass the morning.

Norman just nodded as he passed Katie on the way to his room. Neither wanted small talk. Behind the closed door he continued to read Nigel’s book. Having been an only child an adopted one at that, he had meditated for years at home, thinking it was boredom and loneliness, only now to discover it was religion. He relaxed into his read, only to stop when his phone rang. It was early afternoon, it was Betsy. The line was bad, she was on a train. A railway bridge cut the call off; she phoned back.

“Hi Norman,” she screamed into his ear. Can you meat me today? I can’t hear you, come to my flat, 3 o’clock please, bye.” She could have heard Norman, he knew that, but she wanted it her way.

He was now delighted and returned to his book giving it the most serious consideration.

3 o’clock, Norman got out of a cab and rang Betsy’s doorbell from the large iron gates that led to the courtyard. She answered, releasing the entry lock for him. He walked through to her apartment situated on ground floor level; the front door was left just open. He ambled into the lounge. There, Betsy was busy, cooking for the two of them. She faced and greeted him.

“It’s so good to see you. Family is so hard, friends are so easy, and I need to talk to you so much.”

“So so,” said Norman. Betsy laughed.

“Let’s eat and drink and smoke and work and have sex in that order,” she shouted.

The two worked well together, Norman prepared the table to overlook the high tide and Betsy poured wine as she threw all sorts of ingredients into a large wok. Flames shot up as she missed with one hand full. They needed each other and now they had each other. They ate in the freezing cold with the balcony doors open. Both seemed happy to do this, a pop video was projected onto a large screen, Norman enjoyed Betsy’s world. After a poppadom was blown off the table, Betsy asked Norman to close the doors.

“Sorry about that, but I just love to air out the flat,” she explained.

“I have some very sad news,” stated Norman, “Nancy has been killed on Boxing Day in a car crash. She was very close to my family. Paddy the owner of the Two Buttocks, not literally, well yes literally has made me the new manager.”

Betsy re-lit a candle before her reply, “That is indeed very sad news, I didn’t really know Nancy. Doc spoke highly of her.” She then lit another cigarette off the candle and spoke again, “You are now a powerful man Norman Frank Junior Smith, sure glad I’m fucking you, Mr. President,” she laughed and so did Norman. She continued in her American accent, “So why not stick around for a couple of days honey, let me show you my new act.”

Norman used his mobile, “Hi Katie sorry to disturb you, just to let you know. I am going to be staying a couple of days with Betsy. I will see you for the funeral, take care.” Betsy cleared away their empty plates; they sat and drank more of the wine. Norman mentioned his reading Nigel’s book on Zen.

“Pity Nigel didn’t read it,” said Betsy, “might not have gone off on one, still. So you will need to meditate now Norman if you want to control all that has falling into your lap including me, pardon the pun. You see, with you being a stand up guy, in the comedy sense of course, it’ll keep the Doc on his toes.”

“He wants to manage me,” replied Norman, “get me out to other venues.”

“That could be a very complicated affair now.”

“I will talk to him after the funeral; our crowd will end up at the Prince.”

“Let’s go for a long or short walk along the riverside. Then when we get back the flat will be roasting. More wine and anything you want Mr. President,” her acting made Norman laugh as he agreed to their walk.

“Gee it’s just like in the movies,” Norman now acted with Betsy. They played American tourists as they walked and talked. On their way back Betsy insisted they both do a stand up routine. She did her, ‘Horse riding can be very satisfying my dearys.’ Norman had not heard it before, he was impressed. He did his ‘Is there a doctor in the house,’ Betsy was even more impressed.

“Tomorrow,” exclaimed Betsy, “let’s work on our routines. I will coach you! And you I! Kind sir, for together we shall rule. You the king of stand-up and me the Queen, what say you my noble Lord?”

“Buttocks, the Two Buttocks,” Norman replied, “that will be our castle wench.” Their pace now quickened, the cold night brought on their sexual desires. On their return they were not to be denied them.

The following morning, Norman’s mobile woke the pair from their entangled sleep. He wandered over to admire the tide filling the wharf as he listened to Katie. She confirmed the following day’s funeral arrangements. ‘The brewery bosses had booked a coach to take their workforce and companions to the event. The char-a-banc as Ernest had named it would depart from the brewery at 10.45am sharp. No drinking allowed on the journey.’ Betsy over-heard the conversation; she gagged her amusement, under the duvet, but only just. Norman with the call completed returned to bed, much to Betsy’s delight.

“Do you want to come?” he asked.

“Yes please,” responded Betsy as she climbed on top of him.

“No not that, I meant the funeral, wench.”

“Let me just dismount,” she said. “Difficult to think in the saddle. I guess your family will need your undivided support. I will meet you back at the Prince later O.K.”

“You’re just perfect,” said Norman as he lifted her back on top of himself.

They got up mid-morning, and knocked up breakfast between them. After they settled down in the easy chairs. With fresh coffee and cigarettes on tap, they started under the direction of Betsy to work. She pushed him hard, he had good observations on life and Betsy would bring it all out, but not in a day. She insisted he keep going, so he did. Early afternoon, Norman had gone to the toilet. Betsy quickly made a phone call. “Hi Doc I must be quick, he is good, I mean promising and he’s reading that book on Zen you gave Nigel, that might even help. I’ll call you tomorrow, cheers, fucking answer phones!”

Norman returned and demanded a break. Betsy dragged him off to a local restaurant. All the staff knew Betsy and they made the couple welcome, Norman loved it and fell deeper into Betsy’s world. They spent over two happy hours before staggering the short distance back to the apartment. After having a pot of coffee to sober up, Betsy pushed on with more of the same for Norman. She provoked him to perform.

“Politics,” she screamed, “fucking politics, what about that. Let’s talk politics, no, you talk politics. Tony Blair now there’s a big fucking target.”

Norman bit, “Well he did heal a lot of people, that first time he walked into Downing Street. It was even better than Jesus, cause it was on the tele, so the whole world saw it live. It was the second coming and he was English, just like the Beatles and Frank Bruno and Carol Vorderman. But then they got to him, M I 5 or was it 6, just like the C I A with Kennedy, they thought he was Jesus so they killed him. But over here, they thought no no no, we can’t get away with that. So they drugged him, that’s why he started to play the guitar, so then he was fucking stoned all the time man. Then he was so fucking out of it he starts bombing other countries, claiming he’s got to save us cause we are the chosen ones.

Now wars, that’s a funny one, unless you’re in the front row of course. You know that’s one of the few opportunities that poor people get in life to be at the front of the queue. Only of course because it’s the queue for death. You never hear much about the Swiss Army do you. I suppose those Swiss Army Knives don’t exactly scare the fuck out anyone unless you’re an unopened tin of beans or a bottle of beer. The Swiss still have conscription, yeah even the likes of Roger Federer have to do their bit. I don’t know, which is more scary the Swiss Army Knife or a tennis ball.”

“Not bad,” said Betsy. “For a bit of spontaneous, it’ll do. But if we are going to get you going, it’s a diet of comedy, comedy and more comedy for you. More coffee? ” Both lit up as they sat back and chatted of life, death and the bits between. Norman expressed his view, ‘That all athletes should be allowed to take drugs. “The public deserve honesty, this guarantees it, and the events would be better to watch. Imagine the mile as a sprint, why the fuck not. It’s the only way people will keep watching this stuff. What about those paraplegics they don’t get drug tested, they must be on drugs man, see how fast they fucking go. What about those cameramen. They are such perverts; they get right up there with those cameras. Did you know mens’ athletics has a massive gay audience, at home of course? They invite some friends round, few beers, next minute they got 8 massive dicks running towards them on their wide screen. It doesn’t get more interactive than that; it’s porn on the beeb. That’s what you pay your fucking licence for, subsidising minority T.V. Where can you find a family programme these days aye, even the nature programmes are full of animals shagging each other, gives my dog a hard on.”

Betsy just let Norman rant on; he had a whole lot to say about D.I.Y. shows on the tele. He was learning his new trade well; having listened to countless others perform at the Two Buttocks over the last six months.

Somewhat exhausted they took to the shower room, and then rounded their evening off in bed watching old movies. Norman was finding all this rather surreal before the wine got the better of him and he joined Betsy in a deep sleep.

Betsy woke him for sex at daylight, having put some breakfast onto cook. “Just a quickie,” she whispered into his ear, “Multi-tasking they call it now.” Norman was nervous before attending his first funeral He received a call over breakfast from Paddy. He would be giving a lift to Doc and some of the staff.

It was very cold as Norman set off back home; he walked to a nearby cab office to get some fresh air and exercise. He was aware he had spent a long time in the flat. The cab soon pulled up outside Ernest and Katie’s tiny house. They had dressed ready to go in good time. Ernest sat at the dining table forbidden to move, Katie was tidying up. The house was in mourning, no tele or even Ernest’s radio permitted. Norman mused if he should strangle the cuckoo in the front room clock, but kept this to himself. At 10.30 the three set off on the short walk to the Brewery.