Marion heard the front door of the big house as it closed. Moments later she lefther room and met Norman, who was standing nervously outside her door. 'I made trouble for you. I'm sorry' Marion said. 'No. It's my mother, that's all. She isn't well today. I'm sorry. I can't take you tothe house. I've taken the food into my office. Would you like to come in there?' Marion followed Norman into a small room behind his office. It was a strangeroom, full of old clocks and stuffed birds. Norman watched her quietly as she began to eat. Then said: 'You eat like a bird.' 'Do you know a lot about birds?' 'I don't know much about them. I just like stuffing them.' 'That's a strange thing to do,' said Marion. 'I enjoy it.' 'Is your time so empty?' 'No. I'm very busy. I do everything in the office, I clean the rooms. I look after mymother.' 'Have you got any friends?' Norman looked surprised at this question. 'A boy's best friend is his mother.' Marion looked at her bread and cheese. She couldn't think of anything to say.The room was quiet. Just the sound of the clocks. 'It's stopped raining,' Norman said. Marion smiled politely and continued eating. 'Where are you going?' Norman tried to start the conversation again. 'Somewhere nice,' said Marion. 'What are you pinning away from?' This time, Marion was surprised. 'Why do you ask that?' 'Oh, people are always trying to run away from something,' Norman replied. 'Butpeople can never really run away, can they? Sometimes, when my mother talks tome like that, I want to run away. But I know I can't. She's ill.' 'She didn't seem ill to me,' said Marion. 'I mean ill in the head,' said Norman. 'My father died when I was five. She wasalone with me. Then a few years ago my mother met this man. She loved him. Ithink she loved him more than she loved me...' Norman's eyes darkened as helooked past Marion at the wall. 'When he died,' Norman said slowly, 'and the waythat he died... That's why my mother became ill...' Marion felt sorry for Norman then. He was like a lost child, spending all his lifein a small motel with his mad mother. 'Why don't you leave here?' she asked him. 'If you love someone, you don't leave them.' 'Then why not put her somewhere like...' 'Like a hospital, you mean?' Norman looked at Marion angrily. 'A hospital formad people?' 'I'm sorry. I didn't want to be rude.' 'My mother isn't mad,' Norman said, his eyes still burning. Then suddenly,without warning, he became calm again. He smiled. 'I know,' he said, in a softvoice. 'I just hate thinking about it. My mother really isn't dangerous. She doesn'thurt anyone. She just does mad things sometimes. We all do mad thingssometimes, don't we?' His eyes met Marion's and he seemed to look straight into her heart. 'Don't youdo mad things too, sometimes?' 'Yes, sometimes,' Marion smiled. She thought about the 40,000 dollars in thenewspaper in her room. She did a mad thing yesterday afternoon, when she putTommy Cassidy's money in her handbag and ran away with it. 'I must take itback,' she thought. 'Tomorrow morning.' She stood up. 'Thank you for the meal,' she said to Norman. 'I'm tired, and Ihave a long journey tomorrow. All the way back to Phoenix. You see, I made a badmistake. I want to go back and put everything right before it's too late.' Norman gave her a warm smile. 'I've enjoyed talking to you,' he said. 'I'll bringyou breakfast in the morning.' 'You'll have to be early,' Marion said. 'I will, don't worry,' Norman replied. 'Sleep well.'
