Finders, Keepers - Sabine Durrant Page 0,17
her mobile phone number and asked if I would get in touch if I were at all interested in tutoring him on a more formal footing. Just for a few weeks or so until SATs. They could offer £15 an hour. He so rarely agrees to any help. If I had time, etc, etc. ‘And I am hopelessly impatient’ (‘hopelessly’ underlined three times).
Over the weekend, I let the card languish. I’d seen adverts for tutors on the community noticeboard in the big Sainsbury’s in Balham. I knew £15 was way below market value. Also, in my experience any regular commitment can start to feel claustrophobic. I remembered that from the time I signed up to AquaFit at the leisure centre. But the idea didn’t go away. It had been gratifying, even over one afternoon, to watch Max grow gradually more enthusiastic towards the written word. I felt sorry for him. I liked the thought of arming him in a small way, against the other members of his family. Helping my sister Faith with her homework, when we were teenagers, was always enjoyable. Her gratitude itself was rewarding. Also, even with my commitment to the OED, time did sometimes hang heavy on my hands.
I picked the card up to study it. This book cover was Memory by Ian M. L. Hunter, and included a picture of a finger tied with a piece of string. I imagined Ailsa taking out all the cards out of the box and choosing the one she felt was most applicable. It was Max’s memory, after all, she was concerned about. It was this that swung it, really, the notion that she had put care and thought into it. I rang her to accept.
‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s fantastic news. You’ve literally saved my life.’
‘Well not literally, I hope.’
‘No, not literally.’ She laughed, but then when she’d stopped, said, ‘But no, seriously, you literally have.’
The following Wednesday, I turned up at 4 p.m. on her doorstep, dressed in a manner I thought appropriate. My office clothes were not in the best condition; I couldn’t lay my hands on the skirt and blouse that would have been perfect. But I spent most of Tuesday trawling the charity shops on Northcote Road and I’d found a couple of suits that were only a little big; not in the best nick, but serviceable. I would alternate.
I think I was hoping we would have a little chat first, but she was business-like when she opened the door. She was in gym kit, and in the short time it took to set us up at the table her phone buzzed several times. She took the call out in the garden eventually, smiling into the phone as she walked up and down across the terrace, occasionally leaning down to pick up a leaf. After a bit, she sat down on a step and hugged her knees. She played with her hair; not picking at it the way she had in Tom’s company, but puffing it up, giving it body. I wondered who it was on the other end of the call who made her so relaxed, and I felt a little left out and jealous. Which was absurd.
Max wasn’t an easy pupil, and after a while I became absorbed in trying to work him out. Faith was just lazy. ‘Oh, you just do it, V,’ she used to say, one eye on Blue Peter. Max’s brain was clearly wired differently; sitting still was an effort for him. He had a comprehension, ‘The Drummer Boy’, to do, and I defaced the paper with different-coloured highlighters, to pinpoint the alliteration, the metaphors, etc. He worked better if I made him run up and down to the basement between questions. I discovered what interested him – not rugby, the sport his father wanted him to be good at, but football (Chelsea in particular), and dogs and an Xbox game called World of Warcraft, and also magic, and various Netflix shows, including Stranger Things, which I had read about in the Radio Times. I’m not bad on football – the tabloids keep me updated on the Premier League, and the glitzier players often have spreads in Hello!. One of the questions was ‘How do you think the drummer boy feels?’ and I suggested he imagine the lad was a mascot for a big game, and he almost immediately picked out the relevant language, ‘smiling triumphantly as tall men grin and nod’, etc. The hour went quickly – for