CHAPTER 52
Eldred jumped off the bus and ran all the way home. Flinging down his schoolbag in the hall, he went into the kitchen, grabbed a biscuit and ate it, then took the hoover out of the cupboard under the stairs and hoovered the living-room, moving the chairs. He laid the table for tea, filled the kettle and placed one tea-bag into a cup ready for Mildred's homecoming. Unable to think of any more he could do to help, he went up to his room and did his homework. Part of it involved measuring the perimeter of his room, writing down the measurements and working out the area. Eldred borrowed Mildred's tape measure from her sewing basket and crawled around the floor.
As soon as he had the measurements, he worked out the area in his head. To make it more interesting, he deducted the areas of floor space occupied by the wardrobe, the desk and the bed and calculated the area of uncovered carpet. Then, to make it more interesting again, he measured the height of the room and calculated the total air space.
Then he deducted the volume of space occupied by the furniture, the light bulb and lampshade, and the computer, and calculated the unoccupied air space. He worked out the difference in free air space when the room was empty and when he was in it. By the time Mildred came home, he felt he had saturated the subject and was bored with it; glad of the diversion, he ran downstairs. He forgot he hadn't written down the answer to the original question of his room's measurements and area. Mrs Garcia would scold him next day for not doing his homework.
'How did you get on at work today, Mum?’ Eldred asked, hugging her.
'Not bad,’ she said. 'You laid the table for me, you good boy.’
'The kettle's boiled,’ he said. 'I'll make you a cup of tea.’
She was leaning on the back of a chair when he returned.
'What's wrong?’
'Nothing, love. My back aches a bit.’
Edgar came home. 'Mildred?’
'In here, dear.’
'Mum's got backache,’ Eldred told him.
'I'm not surprised,’ Edgar said. 'Doing the work of a packhorse. It's your body telling you you're not up to it.’
'It's you who keeps telling me I'm not up to it,’ snapped Mildred. Edgar was taken aback. This was not Mildred's voice.
'I'm sorry,’ she said, 'but it would help if you gave me some support instead of saying I can't do it. You used to get tired when you first had your new job. I didn't tell you to go back to your old one, did I?’
'I have to go to work whether I'm tired or not,’ Edgar said. 'Your job is your choice. I didn't make you do it.’
‘And you're not going to make me stop,’ said Mildred firmly. 'But if you want to help get the tea, I won't say no.’
'You know I can't cook,’ Edgar said.
‘Anyone can fry sausages and peel and mash potatoes,’ said Mildred. 'It doesn't take any great skill.’
'Shall I do it?’ offered Eldred.
'Yes, go and give your mother a hand,’ Edgar said, relieved.
'No,’ said Mildred. 'You go and do your homework.’
Eldred looked from one to the other. His mother never countermanded his father's instructions. He didn't know which one to obey.
Edgar gave a deep sigh. 'Do as your mother says, Eldred,’ he said. 'How many potatoes do you want me to peel?’
'As many as you want to eat, and two more,’ Mildred said. 'I'll be in to give you a hand, dear, when I've finished my cup of tea.’
Eldred was looking anxious. Edgar, rolling up his shirtsleeves in the kitchen, winked at him. ‘The old order changeth,’ he said, 'making way for the new. That's a quote.’
'From where?’ Eldred wanted to know.
'From Mrs Mildred Jones, from now on,’ said his father. They both smiled.
'Enough of your cheek, you two,’ said Mildred, from the sofa. Her cup of tea was lukewarm. Eldred must have boiled the kettle some time ago. She sipped appreciatively. Her backache was beginning to ease.
When Edgar brought the plates to the table he was as nervous as a young bride. 'I burnt the sausages slightly.’
'I like them burnt,’ said Eldred.
‘And the mash might have a few lumps.’
'Good for the teeth to have something to chew on,’ said Mildred cheerfully. Eldred wondered what was happening to the family. Mildred made an art-form of cooking perfectly and having a spotless house and had no time for anyone who was less than perfect. 'Sloppy housewives', she called those women who didn't clean their windows every week or left their Monday washing till Thursday to be ironed.
'Somebody hoovered this carpet,’ she said now, looking at the track marks where Eldred had manoeuvred the machine.
'I scuffed it up a bit,’ he noticed.
'It looks lovely and clean,’ Mildred said.
'This interview at the school tomorrow,’ Edgar said. 'Six o'clock's a funny time, isn't it? When everyone's wanting their tea?’
'Some people have it late,’ Mildred reminded him. 'Is it a posh place? I don't know anyone who sends their children to it. That's not where Sheila Suffolk's daughter went, is it?’
'It's only for boys, isn't it?’ Edgar said.
'I'd rather go to a school that's mixed,’ said Eldred.
'Most private schools are for just girls or boys,’ Edgar told him. 'If you went to boarding school, it would be just boys.’
'No, I'm sure I heard that Abingdale had gone co-ed now,’ said Mildred. 'Or perhaps it was another place.’
Edgar grew agitated. 'We should find out something about the place. What will it look like if we turn up there knowing nothing?’
'How can we find out, by tomorrow,’ Mildred asked, 'if we don't know anybody who goes there?’
'Would it have a prospectus or is that just for boarding schools?’
‘In the future,’ said Eldred, ‘every organisation, however small, will have all its details on the internet and you’ll be able to type some formula into a computer and it will tell you information about anything you want to know.’
'Could we look up schools in the library?’ Mildred asked.
'The school probably does have a prospectus,’ said Edgar, 'but I shouldn't think the library would have it. How could we get hold of one?’
'From the school office?’ said Eldred.
'Mildred, you could go in on your way to work tomorrow and ask the secretary for a prospectus,’ Edgar said.
She was horrified. ‘Not me. I wouldn't know where to go.’
'There'd be people around you could ask,’ said her husband.
'Oh, I couldn't,’ she said. 'Not just walk in. You'd have to do it, Edgar.’
'I'm at work! And if I went in at lunchtime the headmaster might be around and he'd know it was us who had come in to ask for it. It might seem like a cheek.’
It struck Eldred for the first time how nervous his parents were when it came to dealing with people. He wondered how they were at work, whether Edgar put on his formal tone all the time when he was with senior managers, whether Mildred stood timidly at the back of the queue for her cup of tea at tea-break and whether she talked to anyone.
'Have you made any friends at work, Mum?’ he asked her.
'I haven't had time for that,’ she said. 'I'm run off my feet.’
'But do you think you will, when you've been there a longer time?’
'I'll probably get to know one or two. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Just wondering.’
Mildred stood up. 'Hand me your plates.’
'I'll do the washing up in a minute,’ said Edgar humbly.
She smiled at him. 'You watch the telly. The old order doesn't have to change all at once.’
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