Genius

by Clare Nonhebel

CHAPTER 60

  This time, they were received like celebrities. There was no confusion over their names; everyone they met seemed to know who they were. Mildred was bemused by it all and by the fact that Eldred seemed to know everybody as well.

  'Hi Sonia,’ he said in the lift. 'It's Sonia,’ he reminded Mildred. 'Rachel's secretary, who showed us in the last time.’

  'Oh yes, of course,’ said Mildred. They had been met this time by a young man with plaited hair. Eldred had seemed to know who he was too, as soon as he introduced himself.

  'You've got the office two rooms down from Rachel Hicks,’ said Eldred. 'I saw your name on the door last time we were here.’

  Last time we were here, thought Mildred! He talked as though he was in and out of television studios all the time. She felt intensely uncomfortable.

  The young man, whose name she hadn't caught, smiled at her. 'I expect it's a bit overwhelming, having your son become a star. Come and meet the other mothers. You'll be sitting together in the front row of the studio.’

  Seeing Mildred look even more confused, he added, 'You did know it was being filmed in front of a studio audience, didn't you?’

  'We weren't told anything,’ said Mildred belligerently. 'Do the mothers have to be interviewed as well?’

  'Not really,’ he said. 'You might be asked the odd question but just where you are. You won't have to go out in front of the cameras in the main studio area: that'll just be Janice and Peter and the three children.’

  'Who are Janice and Peter?’ Mildred demanded.

  Eldred wished she didn't sound hostile when she was nervous. It was all right for her to tell him to behave and not embarrass her but he wasn't allowed to ask the same of her, he thought.

  The young man looked surprised. 'The presenters,’ he said. 'Marrin and Sutfield. Haven't you watched the show before?’

  Mildred's fists were tight around her handbag.

  Eldred answered for her. 'We thought it was a one-off documentary,’ he said, 'about unusual children.’

  'Oh right,’ he said. 'It's a one-off on that subject but it's part of the second series of weekly chat shows. There was a pilot on most of the local TV stations early last year and then this network bought the first series. It was quite a success. It's modelled on some of the studio shows from the States - Oprah Winfrey and such. You've seen the Oprah Winfrey show?’

  'Yes,’ said Eldred. 'She's a good interviewer, isn't she?’

  Mildred was quiet. She wished she was a thousand miles away, among people who had never heard of Oprah Winfrey either. She wished Edgar was beside her. She wished she had never had a child. This whole business was beyond her. Why couldn't Eldred be normal, so they could all live in happy obscurity? Louise Palmer had fooled them. All this publicity would do no good. Eldred didn't even need money now for public school. They were just being used by the media. It would break up the family, sure as sure.

  They were at the door of the studio. A computer-printed notice stuck on the door said 'Marrin and Sutfield - Unusual Kids - 10.30 a.m.’ It was too late to flee, even if Mildred could have persuaded Eldred to leave. He ducked under the young man's arm as he opened the door and bounded in ahead of them both, eager to begin. Mildred followed, her heart as heavy as lead.

  'Mildred Jones, Lucinda Lacosto,’ the young man said rapidly, holding Mildred's arm and pushing her towards a woman with dyed blonde hair and sooty eyes. 'Excuse me, I'll just round up your children and take them to see the presenters. You stay here for now,’ he said, as Mildred moved towards Eldred. 'Someone will call you for coffee soon.’

  'Are you the mother of the disabled boy?’ asked Lucinda.

  'No,’ said Mildred faintly. 'That's my son there.’ She pointed to Eldred as he disappeared into a crowd of people who were standing round talking loudly, some with complicated-looking cameras and what she presumed was sound equipment.

  'The brainy child who invents things?’ said Lucinda.

  'I suppose so,’ Mildred said. 'I'm not used to this,’ she said, in sudden despair.

  'Don't worry,’ said Lucinda kindly. 'Have a fag to calm your nerves. These were on the house, so help yourself.’

  'I don't smoke,’ said Mildred. 'I gave up when Eldred was a baby.’

  'Do you knit?’

  'I beg your pardon?’

  'You need to do something,’ Lucinda explained, 'to take your mind off all the waiting around. I don't knit, myself; could never learn. It'd be useful on these occasions.’

  'Are you involved in this kind of thing very often, then?’ asked Mildred. 'Mrs ... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.’

  'Lucinda. Lucinda Lacosto.’

  'Oh. Is that ... what nationality is your name?’ Mildred said tentatively. Was there something foreign about the woman? She certainly didn't look like the kind of woman Mildred normally met; there was something different about her, though Mildred couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

  'No idea,’ said Lucinda. 'It's my stage name. My employer-before­last thought it up. Lucy Hobbs doesn't sound showbizzy enough, does it?’

  'You're in showbusiness?’ said Mildred, shifting away from her slightly.

  'Don't look so horrified,’ said Lucinda, lighting a cigarette and drawing on it heavily. Mildred coughed. 'Sorry,’ Lucinda apologized. 'I chainsmoke. My boss says he should have taken me on as a fire­eater! I work for Mannfield's Circus at the moment - you heard of them? No, I thought not. They're a smallish outfit but they've got some good acts. I work the trapezes and do a bit of high-wire. My daughter's an acrobat.’

  'Oh,’ said Mildred. 'Where is she?’

  'Around somewhere,’ said Lucinda casually. 'She's used to this set­ up. Been on local TV and children's telly. She has her own agent now. How about your boy?’

  'He's been in the newspapers and on the local TV news,’ said Mildred. She felt ashamed of it now. What was she letting poor Eldred get into? Mothers who walked the high-wire in a tutu and boasted that their daughters were acrobats. What had the Jones family, respectable people, to do with such folk? 'They told me this wasn't going to be a freak show,’ she murmured faintly.

  'Nothing of the kind,’ said Lucinda robustly. 'Don't you worry. It's a very professional programme, this. Do your boy's publicity the world of good.’

  'We don't want publicity,’ said Mildred desperately. 'I don't know how we got into this.’

  'Funny old world, isn't it?’ Lucinda nodded. 'I don't know where my girl got her talent from: I'm not a bad performer, if I say it myself, but she's above and beyond what I can do. Amazing to watch. It's like her bones are made of elastic. I never get tired of watching her do her act. There you go, though: doting mothers. You're the same, I expect.’

  'Oh no,’ said Mildred, from the heart. 'I wish he was normal. I'd give anything for a quiet life, myself.’

  'Like to come and have coffee in the hospitality room, ladies?’ said a colourfully attired young man appearing in front of them.

  'No, thank you,’ said Mildred hastily. This place was like a circus in itself, she thought. How could these freakish people promise her they wouldn't present her son as a freak? They probably thought they were normal themselves.

  'Come on, do come,’ Lucinda urged her. 'I never have time for breakfast and they usually ply you with food. Come and keep me company.’

  Mildred stood up and followed her. Keeping this odd woman company was preferable to being left alone in a studio full of people who looked as though they had come from another planet. What had Eldred got her into? She swore a silent vow to herself that this was the last time she would agree to his appearing in public. And what on earth were they going to make him seem like to those people watching TV in their living-rooms, her sweet, strange, bewildering, irritating, abnormal little boy? Mildred shuddered to think about it.