Genius

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 54

  Before Eldred left for school, a letter arrived from the television company.

  'That was quick!’ said Mildred. 'I always thought these big companies worked very slowly.’

  'Open it,’ said Eldred.

  'I can't. It's addressed to your father.’

  'It says "Mr and Mrs" on the envelope,’ Eldred pointed out. 'So either of you can open it.’

  'We'd better leave it till Dad gets home,’ Mildred demurred.

  'It is about me,’ Eldred said. 'If I wasn't nine, it's me they would have sent it to, isn't it?’

  Mildred hesitated.

  'Please,’ said Eldred. 'I don't ask for much.’

  'Not half you don't!’ said Mildred. But she fetched the sharp kitchen knife she used for slicing potatoes and slit the envelope. 'But when your father comes home, let him read it for himself,’ she said. 'No meeting him at the door and telling him what's in it.’

  Eldred was craning to see the page, pulling down Mildred's elbow. '

  ‘They're going to feature me in the documentary,’ he said, 'with two other children: a ten-year old girl who's an acrobat and a fourteen-year old boy who's had fifteen operations. What's clever about that?’

  'Eldred!’ said Mildred, shocked. 'Think what it must have been like for the poor child. How would you like it?’

  'I didn't say it wasn't sad,’ said Eldred. 'I said why is it clever?’

  'The programme's about special children,’ said Mildred, 'not just clever.’

  Eldred wrinkled his nose. 'I still don't get it. I mean, he didn't have much choice, presumably. People just said to him, "You have to have another operation,” and he had it. It's something that happened to him, not something he did himself.’

  'Oh, Eldred,’ said his mother.

  'What?’ he said.

  She sighed. 'I don't know. Put your coat on. Where's your school bag?’

  'Why did you say, "Oh, Eldred", though?’ Eldred was not easy to sidetrack.

  'I don't know. The way you look at things,’ said Mildred helplessly.

  'Tell me,’ he insisted. 'I want to know how you look at it.’

  'Well, this boy didn't ask to be disabled,’ said Mildred, 'and here he is, only fourteen years old, and half his life must have been pain and not being able to do things and recovering from nasty operations and feeling nervous about the next one. And you say he hasn't done anything because he isn't clever.’

  'Oh,’ said Eldred. 'You mean he didn't choose to be disabled but he's got on with it because it's the life he has?’

  'Something like that.’

  Eldred thought for a moment. 'Can you be successful at being disabled or a failure at it, then?’

  'Life isn't just a question of success, Eldred,’ said Mildred. 'Not everyone's in a position to be a success.’

  'But surely ...’ Eldred began.

  'You'll be late for school,’ said Mildred.

  ‘Just one more question,’ he pleaded. 'Very short.’

  'Very short is what your teacher will be with you if you're late for class,’ said Mildred, managing to kiss him and push him out of the door in one movement.

  When Eldred had gone, she read the letter again. Another appointment, for next week. It could take all day, this filming. These people gave no thought to parents who worked. She sat down at the table and read the second paragraph very slowly, word by word. Something troubled her about it. A poor deformed boy and an acrobat girl. And her Eldred.

  She wished she was better at putting things into words, or even at putting her thoughts into some coherent shape. She didn't know what was wrong but she didn't like it, whatever it was. One thing she knew for certain: she wasn't going to give up this job. Hard work it might be but at the moment that supermarket was the only place where Mildred felt she knew where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.

  When Edgar came home from work, Eldred refrained from telling him about the letter. Instead, he gave him the prospectus for Abingdale School.

  'Where did you get this?’ said Edgar.

  'I went down there at lunch break,’ said Eldred, 'and asked someone where the school secretary's office was. She was really nice.’

  'You did what?’ Edgar said. 'You walked out of your school at lunch break and went all the way to Abingdale by yourself?’

  'I got the bus,’ Eldred explained. 'There wouldn't have been time to walk. I used my pocket money,’ he said hastily, seeing Edgar's face turn purple.

  'You are missing the point,’ Edgar said. 'One, you are not allowed to leave school during the day; two, I will not have my nine-year old child wandering the streets ...’

  Mildred came in. 'What's going on?’ she said, scanning Edgar's face.

  Edgar waved the prospectus in her face. 'Eldred went and got this, by himself,’ he said.

  'Oh good,’ said Mildred. 'Don't give it to me now, dear; I have to go and get changed quickly. I'll read it later. Eldred, that shirt's all creased: go and take a fresh one out of your wardrobe. Edgar dear, the blue tie might look better. It's up to you.’ She ran up the stairs.

  Edgar looked after her in disbelief. 'Women!’ he exclaimed. He looked round for Eldred, but Eldred had seized his opportunity for escape and had flown upstairs in the wake of Mildred. All the way there on the bus, Edgar alternated between telling Mildred that Eldred was getting out of control and was being given too much pocket money, and wondering anxiously how they would know where to go when they reached the school. Eldred stayed quiet, deciding it was better not to remind him that he knew his way to the school office.

  In the event, Mr Clinford met them at the gate. 'Delighted to meet you,’ he said, addressing himself first to Mr Jones. Edgar relaxed slightly.

  Mr Clinford shook hands with Mildred and then with Eldred.

  'Shall I lead the way?’ he said.

  The family followed him mutely, not knowing where he was leading them. He seemed to know, Eldred thought. He felt relieved that somebody was showing confidence. It made him anxious when people were nervous, as though they might expect him to cope with whatever it was they couldn't cope with themselves. He often felt like that with his parents.

  They found themselves on a tour of the whole school. Edgar and Mildred were overawed.

  'All this expensive equipment,’ Edgar murmured.

  'Did you look at the fees?’ Mildred whispered.

  Edgar nodded and grimaced. 'Well out of our league!’

  'What do you think of our facilities?’ asked Mr Clinford.

  'Marvellous,’ said Mildred politely.

  'Very impressive,’ said Edgar, with deep gloom.

  'There is just one thing,’ said Eldred. Edgar and Mildred tensed.

  'What's that?’ said Mr Clinford.

  'One thing that seems the same in every school,’ Eldred said, 'is that all the interesting equipment is in the High School. The First School only has baby stuff, doesn't it?’

  'Eldred,’ his father admonished, 'you can't say that here. Computers for the five-year olds!’

  'Only for really easy programs, like learning to read,’ said Eldred.

  Mr Clinford put a hand on his shoulder. 'That is what I want to discuss with you,’ he said. 'In this school, we try to give all the children the opportunity to fulfil their potential and go at their own pace. We start you off on the easy programs, certainly, but if you can cope with the work, you can move on as soon as you're ready to. There's no sitting around gazing out of the window here, Eldred.’

  He steered them into his office and pointed them towards chairs. They sat.

  'What I'd like to do,’ said Mr Clinford, positioning himself on the big swivel chair behind the desk, 'is give you a run-down of what I believe Abingdale could do for your son.’

  Edgar and Mildred exchanged agonized glances. Eldred understood.

  'First, do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?’ said Mr Clinford.

  Edgar cleared his throat. 'No, no,’
he said. 'You go ahead. Hmm.’ Mildred looked at him. He turned his head away.

  'I'd like to ask one,’ said Eldred.

  'Not you,’ said Edgar firmly. 'Listen to what the headmaster has to say.’

  'No, please,’ said Mr Clinford. 'Ask away.’

  'Can I say it in private?’ Eldred asked. 'By myself.’

  'Eldred!’ Mildred hissed.

  Edgar's lips were tightly compressed. 'Say what you have to say,’ he said, 'here and now.’

  Mr Clinford's eyes were shrewd, moving from one face to the next.

  'Actually,’ he said, 'now you mention privacy, I would appreciate a few words in private with you, Mr Jones, you and your wife, while Eldred occupies himself with a more detailed look at our library. Would that be all right with you?’

  Edgar nodded gravely. 'Certainly.’

  'Thank you,’ he said. 'Eldred, come with me.’

  'He can find it himself,’ said Edgar. 'We just passed it.’

  'No trouble at all,’ said Mr Clinford, smiling and holding open the door. He ushered Eldred through it and closed it promptly behind them both. A smooth operator, thought Eldred. He wasn't sure whether he'd like this man to be his headmaster or not. 'What's your question?’ asked Mr Clinford, walking briskly.

  Eldred decided not to beat about the bush. 'My father works in insurance,’ he said, 'and my mother has just started work as a shelf­filler at the supermarket. She's doing it so they can send me to a private school. But she's really tired when she comes home every evening. And they're not going to make enough. They think they will in a year or two but I've worked it out. They won't.’

  Mr Clinford stopped and faced him. He nodded.

  'I'm probably being disloyal,’ said Eldred, flinching slightly before his direct gaze, 'because they wouldn't want me to say this to you. I can tell they think this school is very nice but they'll probably tell you they'll think about it and then they'll say it isn't quite right for me. But really it's because we couldn't afford the fees.’ He stopped.

  'Thank you, Eldred,’ said Mr Clinford. 'You've been very honest with me, and not at all disloyal; quite the opposite. Now let me ask you one question. Do you think this school would suit you?’

  Eldred considered. 'I could probably only tell that after I'd tried it for a while,’ he said.

  A smile crossed the headmaster's lips and was swiftly banished. 'And would you be willing to give us a try?’ he asked.

  'You mean, like a free sample?’ asked Eldred.

  Another fleeting smile. 'Yes.’

  'Okay,’ said Eldred. He hesitated.

  'But?’ prompted Mr Clinford.

  'If it didn't work out, I might not be allowed back to my old school,’ said Eldred.

  'Would you mind leaving your present school?’

  'Oh no,’ said Eldred, in heartfelt tones. 'Not at all. But it might leave me with nowhere to go.’

  'Will you do something for me, Eldred?’ Mr Clinford asked.

  'Okay.’

  'Will you leave it to your parents and me to make the arrangements for you and to worry about the money? Let us, between us, take the responsibility? And you just take the decision that, if it works out that you come here as a pupil, you will give us your very best work and let me know personally if you are unhappy for any reason?’

  Eldred thought again. It sounded good. It even felt like something of a relief. They would be the adults and he would be the child. He let out a deep sigh.

  'All right,’ he said.