Chapter 42
I’m not saying my hallway is a disaster area, but there are seismic risk zones in better shape after we’ve all piled out of the house on a Saturday morning. It certainly doesn’t have the serene, tasteful ambience I always imagined when I first decorated. There are several pairs of shoes discarded by the door, half a cup of cold coffee on the sideboard, one filthy sock and the kids’ bags, which they both dropped on the floor after school last night and, after a late Friday working and an early start, I didn’t get the chance to move.
‘It’s not always like this,’ I mutter, cursing myself that I didn’t follow through on that Swedish self-care tip I saw on Instagram – to buy a bouquet of beautiful flowers every Friday to celebrate simply reaching the end of the week. Who am I kidding? If I’d just had the chance to throw the hoover around and clear away the breakfast dishes, it would’ve been something.
We enter the kitchen and I feel a beat of relief that I cleared away the knickers I’d left drying on the radiator overnight.
‘Take a seat, sorry it’s such a mess,’ I say, shoving a plate into the dishwasher.
‘It’s not a mess, it’s a home,’ he says. ‘I’d take this any day over the place I’m staying in.’
‘Yeah, it must be awful, all those gleaming taps, the 24-hour gym. I bet you’ve got a nice cleaning lady who comes in and polishes your loo for you . . .’
‘Actually, he’s a guy called George, but I take your point. It does have some benefits. Charm and homeliness isn’t one of them,’ he says, looking at my vintage ‘Elbow’ poster. ‘So where’s my student gone?’
‘Oh, good point. Jacob has a knack of conveniently forgetting about maths homework at the first opportunity.’
‘I heard that,’ Jacob says, appearing at the door with his fractions book.
Zach laughs. ‘Okay, come on over here. But you gotta promise once I’ve told you this trick, you keep it a secret. Only a very special few get to know it.’
Jacob gives a tentative smile.
‘I’m not kidding!’ Zach grins and Jacob, unsure, decides: ‘Okay, I promise.’
They sit at the kitchen table while I set about bringing some order to the place. Each time I glance over, I have to actively stop myself from smiling and concentrate instead on putting away the mugs.
All in all, it takes about 35 minutes for Jacob to crack it. 35.
And all it’s cost me is a cup of coffee, as opposed to the umpteen pounds I’ve spent on tutoring, which got precisely nowhere.
‘This guy was having you on,’ Zach says, as Jacob beams proudly next to him. ‘He can totally do fractions.’
‘I couldn’t before! You should do YouTube videos. You’d get billions of views.’
‘Not interested. You can keep your riches,’ Zach says, shaking his head. ‘I told you. Only a special few are let into the secret.’
I can tell there’s a bit of Jacob that really wants to believe this is true.
‘I’ve got to know what this trick is,’ I say.
‘Sorry,’ Zach says regretfully. ‘You’re not on my list.’
Jacob laughs.
‘That’s enough of that, you,’ I say, glancing at the clock. ‘Right, you’ve now got half an hour before your grandma arrives to take you to the theatre. So go and get yourself changed and smartened up, okay?’
As he disappears to head upstairs, I turn to Zach with an apologetic look on my face.
‘So . . . my mum is about to arrive,’ I say.
‘Cool,’ he says.
I scrunch up my face and the penny drops. ‘Oh, I see. I should probably go before she gets here.’
‘Might be easier,’ I squirm, uncomfortably.
‘Sure. No. I understand.’
He stands up, looking suddenly slightly awkward.
‘Um . . . I’ll show you out.’
We are halfway across the hall when the bell rings. Until the moment I open the door, I am convinced it will be Amazon, or something I’ve ordered from an Instagram link. The fact I can’t actually recall ordering anything from there lately doesn’t mean anything. I’m forever receiving things I have no recollection of buying – as yesterday’s delivery of a fermented rice water shampoo bar proves beyond doubt.
I have the door open halfway when I realise my error.
‘Mum!’ I push it semi-closed again. ‘Why are you so early?’
‘I told you we were going for a milkshake first. Don’t tell me he’s not ready. . .’
‘No, he is. I’ll just get him. Wait there. JACOB!’
‘I’m just going to spend a penny before we go,’ she says, stepping forward.
‘It’s blocked,’ I say, shoving my foot against the door.
‘Oh, not again. What are you feeding those boys? There is such a thing as too much fibre you know.’
‘JACOB!’
‘I’m here,’ he says, plodding down the stairs.
‘Okay good,’ I say, kissing him on the cheek, before ushering him out into the porch. ‘Bye, sweetie. Have a great time both of you! Thanks, Mum!’
I go to close the door when it flings open again.
‘I forgot my Pok é mon cards,’ Jacob says, galloping up the stairs. Mum is now standing on the step looking directly at Zach. She blinks.
‘Hello, ma’am,’ he says, pleasantly. ‘I’m Zach, pleased to meet you.’
‘Oh . . . hello,’ she says, studying him with a look that suggests she wishes she’d brought her reading glasses.
‘Got them, Grandma!’ Jacob gallops down the stairs and pushes past us all.
‘Bye, Zach. And thanks for the trick on fractions!’
‘Oh! You’re the maths tutor!’ she chuckles, with palpable relief. ‘Sorry, I thought . . .’ she shakes her head. ‘I’ll just go, shall I? See you later, love.’
‘Bye, Mum.’
I close the door.