Chapter 58
It would be a relief, Joe told himself that evening, as he got on his bike in the school car park to make his way down the motorway to London, a real relief to get back to normality for two days. Now the Carter Wrights no longer needed his apartment – such good news about Danny, even though it had gone against all the statistical odds – he could go back to normal Saturdays. A browse round Portobello Road; an afternoon at the Science Museum maybe, and, as it was so near Christmas, an hour or two at Hamleys to get his godsons’ presents.
Anything was better than staying in his lonely room at Joyce’s and listening to music coming through the wall from Gemma’s room, where she and Action Man were no doubt pawing on the bed. Anything rather than being cornered by Joyce on the stairs and being told that it was wonderful, really wonderful, that Gemma was going to be her daughter-in-law.
‘Mr Balls! Mr Balls! How fast does that go?’
It was Juan, the only kid in his class who had any natural ability with numbers, as far as he could see.
‘Very fast, Juan. Too fast for you.’
This wouldn’t be the first time that one of the children had asked for a ride.
‘I don’t want to go on it.’ The boy’s eyes darkened. ‘It belongs to you. I just want to see the numbers.’
He reached up on tiptoes and pointed to the speedometer. Joe was tempted. Lynette allowed him to pick up the boys and put them on his knee while he sat on the bike so they could see the dials, but they were his godchildren.
‘Shouldn’t you be in After-School club?’
‘It’s finished and I’m waiting for my dad. He came to pick me up but then told me to wait here while he went to get some cigarettes. Please, Mr Balls.’
Just quickly, then. He reached down and lifted the boy on to the seat, thinking to himself that this was what he might be doing now if he and Ed had had the baby. ‘You see these numbers? They’re in kilometres and miles as well. And this dial means …’
Later, as Joe tried to explain, he didn’t know how it had happened. All he knew was that Juan simply slipped sideways from the seat and fell on the ground with a thud.
Thank heavens Gemma had been there, supervising the end of After-School club. If it hadn’t been for the calm, reassuring way in which she’d taken charge of the situation, he didn’t know what he would have done.
‘Are you sure he wasn’t unconscious, even for a second?’ she had asked him while sitting Juan on her knee and mopping up his tears.
Joe nodded tightly. ‘Absolutely certain. Well, 99 per cent sure. Maybe 98.’
‘That’s good then,’ said Gemma as though she was trying to be reassuring, but she said it in a way that made him realise he shouldn’t have let Juan get on the bike in the first place. ‘I know it’s only a scrape on the side of his face, but I still think we need to get him to casualty just to make sure he’s all right. We’ll need to ring his father too. I’ll drive us. You sit in the back with Juan. Is that all right, poppet?’
For a minute, he had thought the last sentence was addressed to him. When they got to the hospital and he had to explain to the girl at A&E what had happened, he felt even more of an idiot, although Juan was, by now, happily sitting up on one of the chairs and chatting to Gemma over a comic. If she hadn’t been there, he told himself again, he would have felt even worse than he did already.
‘Juan,’ called out a nurse, and Gemma, signalling to Joe that it was all right and that she’d take him in, went with her into another room down the corridor. ‘The nurse will take him to the obs,’ said the girl at reception, noticing his anxious face. ‘You know. Observation room just to see if everything is all right.’
Minutes later, after Gemma had returned, a voice rang down the corridor. ‘Where is my son? I demand to see him! What have those crazy idiots done to my son?’
A small wiry man reeking of cigarettes, in dirty jeans and a fluorescent labourer’s jacket, appeared. Gemma and Joe watched him being taken down the corridor and into the observation room where Juan was.
So far, they’d been told, there was no sign of injury apart from the scrape, but a blow to the head was always considered potentially serious, and Juan would need to be kept in for a few hours at least.
‘Here he comes,’ said Gemma under her breath.
The man was scurrying angrily towards them. ‘Who is the idiot that put my son on his bike?’
Joe took a deep breath. Was that his imagination, or had Gemma touched him lightly on his side in support? ‘I’m afraid that was me, sir.’
‘You?’
The man’s lip curled with disdain. ‘You did a very foolish thing.’
‘I know, sir. I am sorry.’
‘You are lucky my son is not hurt badly.’
‘I agree.’
The man’s lip curled again. ‘I could report you for this, you know.’
‘I realise that.’ The other patients in casualty were looking at them curiously. ‘The truth of the matter is, sir, that your son is very gifted with numbers. In fact he is very gifted all round. When he started asking me questions about the speedometer, he couldn’t see properly so I made the mistake of lifting him up so he could.’ The man was looking at him as he spoke enthusiastically, and so was Gemma, as though she hadn’t seen him in this light before. ‘You must be very proud of your son, sir. You have done a good job.’
It was then that something incredible happened. The man began to cry. Tears trickled down his face which he didn’t bother to wipe away. ‘I have been looking after Juan since his mother died.’
His mother was dead? That wasn’t on his record card.
‘I have done my best but it is difficult.’ The man reached out for Joe’s hand. ‘She was very clever at numbers, his mother. The boy takes after her. It is extremely fine that he has a teacher now who cares about him. We will say no more about the incident. Unless …’
He stopped.
Please, no, thought Joe. Don’t change your mind. ‘Unless one day, it might be possible for you to show me your bike too.’ The man’s eyes glinted. ‘I have always wanted to ride a bike such as the one that Juan tells me about.’
Joe had phoned Beryl from the hospital to tell her what had happened and to report that Juan was being discharged. It had not been an easy call. For his part, Joe had not attempted to make excuses for himself. For hers, Beryl had listened without comment and then said that she would like to see him in her office within the hour. Gemma had sweetly offered to come with him, but he had explained that although he was very grateful, this was something he needed to take on his own shoulders.
Beryl was waiting for him at her desk when he arrived. She shook her head when she saw him, sighed and indicated that he should sit down. Once more he was faced with the photograph of a blond toddler grinning at him from inside a silver frame. He turned away.
Beryl clasped her hands in front of her and leaned towards him. ‘You’re both a very lucky man and an extremely stupid one.’
Beryl wasn’t one to beat about the bush, thought Joe. He admired her for that, just as he despised himself right now. ‘I know.’ He hesitated. What he really wanted was to tell the head that he had only let the boy get on the bike because if he’d had a son, Juan was the sort of kid he would have liked. They would have been bike-mad together. They would have explored the Science Museum together. They would have played maths quiz games. But somehow, it didn’t seem right to mention this.
‘What on earth was in your mind, letting a child get on to your bike?’ demanded Beryl. There was a sharper sound to her voice now.
‘I suppose,’ said Joe awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck which he sometimes did when put on the spot, ‘it was the bloke thing in me. Boys love bikes!’ He looked across at Beryl and at the photograph. ‘Yes, I know it was dangerous, but it didn’t seem like that at the time. I was holding him and the engine wasn’t switched on.’
Beryl snorted. ‘Didn’t stop him falling off though, did it? And in this day and age, a male teacher holding a kid round the waist can be misconstrued. Anyway, it looks as though you’re off the hook. I’ve already rung Juan’s father and he isn’t going to take the matter further.’ Joe recalled the promise he had made to let Juan’s father come round and take a closer look at the bike which had caused all the trouble, and decided that it might complicate the issue to mention this. ‘Nevertheless, I will have to report the incident through the official channels,’ continued Beryl. ‘If it was up to me, I would let it pass but rules are rules, as you know.’
Joe’s heart sank. That would really scupper his chances of getting another job. So far, his applications hadn’t got anywhere. It seemed that there was a surplus of maths teachers at the moment, all with more experience than him.
‘Still, if I were you, I would put it behind you.’ Beryl’s voice sounded less schoolmistressy now. ‘You’re a good teacher, and we’ve had some excellent feedback from parents. Your weekly maths tests have produced some extremely good grades.’
There was the sound of someone at the door. ‘Hello!’ Gemma put her head round. ‘Sorry. I don’t want to barge in on your meeting but I had to come into school to get something, and I thought you might like to know that Juan and his father are back home and really do seem all right.’
Gemma had stayed at the hospital with them until Juan had been sent home, which was far beyond the call of duty, thought Joe, considering the pupil was in his year and not in the playgroup. But Gemma wouldn’t see it like that, he realised now. She didn’t like to see any child upset – or adult.
‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you said just now about Joe’s abilities as a teacher,’ added Gemma, still standing at the doorway. ‘Have you heard about his maths quizzes, Beryl? They’re legendary. Fun and informative, or so I’ve heard.’
She flashed him a smile. ‘In fact I wouldn’t mind some myself. Words are my thing, not numbers.’
Beryl beamed. ‘Then you’re a good match, I’d say. That is,’ she added quickly, ‘in a professional context.’
Gemma was going pink. ‘Got to dash now. I’ve got a date.’
Beryl beamed again. ‘Thanks for coming in and supporting your colleague, Gemma. It was very good of you.’
She looked at Joe pointedly.
‘Yes, thanks,’ he added quickly. ‘Look, both of you. I just want to say that I’m really sorry about all this. I know I’m leaving anyway, but believe me, I’ve learned so much here. I won’t make the same mistake again.’ Beryl nodded.
‘We’re all human, Joe. By the way, you know we talked about my grandson?’ She indicated the photograph of the blond boy. ‘He broke his arm last weekend, climbing a tree. Guess who was meant to be looking after him? That’s right. Silly old Granny who just happened to take her eye off him for one second. Maybe that might make you feel a bit better.’