by Daniel Hurst
‘You don’t have to do it tonight,’ I say, hoping he will get the hint and come and sit with me instead of with his laptop again.
‘His first exam is in eight weeks. We need somebody sooner rather than later.’
He smiles at me as he heads into the study, then he closes the door behind him. He is back in his happy place again. The peace and quiet of his own private room. That just leaves me to deal with the chaos of the rest of the house.
Perfect.
I head for the stairs, picking up various things that belong to my family as I go. Bella’s shoes that have been left lying in the middle of the hallway and her coat which has fallen off the end of the bannister and ended up in a heap on the floor, as well as Michael’s trainers, which he changes into when he plays football at lunchtime. He knows he should leave his smelly trainers in the pantry, but he always seems to leave them here instead. Maybe he’s forgetful. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.
I head up the stairs, wondering what it would be like if I had my own room to escape into like the rest of my family have right now. Nick is in his study, where he says he is researching tutors but he could just be watching football highlights. Michael is in his room where I presume he is playing FIFA and enjoying being away from his parents. And Bella is in her room singing away to whichever pop video she is playing on her iPad, without a care in the world, which is the way it should be for her at least. That just leaves me to wander the empty hallways of the house, picking up after everybody and making sure everything is as it needs to be for the morning when everyone will emerge from their rooms like whirlwinds and expect breakfast to be served.
I love my family, but it is definitely changing. Gone are the days when we would all sit in front of the TV at night and watch something together. Now the kids can’t wait to get up to their rooms and close the door, and my husband is the same with his study. If I was less assured in myself, then I might suspect that nobody wanted to spend any time with me, but that’s just silly. Children want their own space as they get older, and husbands need it too. I’m the only one here who needs to be around others as much as possible and I know why that is. When I’m with other people, I have less time to reflect.
When I’m alone, I start thinking about the past again.
As I reach the top of the stairs, I think about popping my head into Bella’s room and seeing what dance routine she is learning now. I also think about knocking on Michael’s door and making sure that he isn’t mad at us for bringing up the tutor. But in the end, I head for my bedroom where I will do some tidying up before Nick eventually comes upstairs and joins me for a quick chat before we turn the lights out.
This is family life in suburbia. Nothing much ever happens around here. But that’s the way I like it.
The last time something happened around here, the police found a dead body.
8
NICK
I love spending time with my family, but I love being alone too. That’s why this study is a godsend. Not only does it give me a place to work during the day, but it offers a place of quiet sanctuary in the evenings whenever I feel like I need a little break from family life. Sometimes I enjoy watching mindless television with Amy, but other times I like to come in here, close the door and watch what I want to watch. Right now, what I want to watch are the highlights from last night’s football games. I wouldn’t get a chance to watch this outside of here because there would be a million and one other things vying for my attention.
Amy is worried about something. Michael is in a mood again. Bella wants attention. It is usually one of those things that mean my free time evaporates quickly and I’m back to working again before I know it. But not tonight. Tonight, I am going to relax in my study, and no one is going to disturb me.
I’m about five minutes into watching the highlights from the Everton v Chelsea game when I feel a slight pang of guilt. I am supposed to be looking online for a tutor for Michael. That’s what I told Amy I was going to be doing in here and it is what I should be doing. But I’ve been working hard all day fixing tedious server issues for tedious clients and I deserve a little ‘me time.’ I enjoy the work but it’s so intensive that I need my downtime. I’ll watch the rest of these highlights before I get back to the more tedious tasks again. I already know the score of this game, and there are three more goals to enjoy yet.
As I recline in my leather office chair that I treated myself to when I made the switch over to working at home full-time, I can’t help but be distracted by events outside this quiet and peaceful room. The talk with Michael didn’t go well. He doesn’t want a tutor, which I understand, because what sixteen-year-old boy would ever want to do more schoolwork? But I know that it is for the best. Michael might think that GCSE’s don’t matter, but that’s only because he hasn’t ventured into the working world yet. He’ll soon start to question his lack of effort at school when he finds that all the jobs that he wants to do won’t even consider him based on his lack of qualifications.
Exam results aren’t everything, but there is no way that I would be able to do the job that I do now without having achieved good grades. To become as qualified as I have in I.T. required me to study at college, and I couldn’t have done that without attaining the necessary marks to get there. Work isn’t the be-all and end-all of life, but it is a necessary part of it, and we are all going to have to work so we might as well do something that pays well if we can. I’m fortunate to have a well-paid job that allows me to work from home and avoid the grind of the commute and office politics, but I would never be in this position if I hadn’t applied myself to my studies when I was younger. I don’t want my son to get to my age and regret things. I don’t want him to struggle and hate his life like so many other people do when they drag themselves out of bed to go to work in the morning.
I find it impossible to concentrate on the football highlights on my laptop with all of this going on in my head, so I turn them off even though there is still one goal in this match that I haven’t seen yet. Heading onto Google, that trusty tool that everybody turns to when they need an answer in their life, I type out the words that I have already typed out several times before after earlier discussions about Michael’s impending date with exam disaster.
‘How to find a tutor for my son.’
I hit enter and end up with almost 43 million results. I might need to narrow it down a little.
‘How to find a tutor in the UK.’
115 million results. It’s getting worse. Maybe it would be easier to just teach Michael myself. But I tried that and it didn’t go well. We just ended up arguing with each other and he would storm off back to his bedroom. I would get frustrated with him for not understanding something that I thought was quite simple, and he would get frustrated that I have absolutely no teaching skills and can’t see things from his point of view. In the end, I put a stop to the ‘lessons’ before one of us killed the other. It was a shame because Michael and I get on well the rest of the time. We both enjoy football, and we both like a good action movie. But we aren’t compatible when it comes to our views on education. It doesn’t help that he is a bad student, and I am a terrible teacher.
I try another search, this time for ‘Tutors in my area.’
The first option to appear sounds promising. It is a website that claims to be the best site to use to match students with teachers. It makes sense that there would be a site like this online somewhere because there is a site to match people with everything else. Men with women. Women with men. Married women with married men. And that’s just relationships. There are sites to help unemployed candidates find jobs, sites to reunite old friends and even sites to connect the living with the dead, which sounds bogus, but my late mum was adamant that the dead could make contact after they have gone.
Funny how we haven’t heard from her since she passed.
But right now all I need is this site that will help my son find the right tutor, and it seems that I have very few options. Only two in fac
t.
A fifty-two-year-old woman called Sue and a twenty-eight-year-old woman called Petra.
Investigating the younger woman’s profile first, I see a photo of an attractive blonde woman with a bio that informs me she is from Stockholm and has been tutoring secondary-school age pupils for the last six years. Her background seems to be perfect, and her fees aren’t high either. What’s more, she only lives on the other side of town so wouldn’t have far to come. It seems perfect, and I’m almost about to hit the print button and take my findings to my wife when I pause.
Can I really have this as my suggestion? A young, attractive Swedish woman? I’m sure Michael will be interested enough to give it a go, but I’m not sure my wife will. She’s going to think that I have just chosen her because I want a cute woman to visit the house several times a week. Maybe this is a bad idea.
I retreat back out of Petra’s profile and click on Sue’s instead. She isn’t as attractive but that’s not the point. She is from Coventry but lives in Nuneaton now, which is where we are, and she has over thirty years’ experience in education, particularly at the GCSE level.
This is the one I should print. This is the sensible option. This is the option that won’t lead to my wife calling me a pervert.
I sigh and hit print.
Sue it is.
9
MICHAEL
Who the hell is Sue, and why is she sitting in our front room?
‘Hello dear,’ the mysterious woman says to me when I walk in and see her sitting on the sofa. She seems pleasant enough, but I’m not going to allow her to get too comfortable. If this is who my parents think is going to be teaching me for the next two months, then they can think again.
‘This is Sue,’ Dad says casually as if introducing me to a random woman in our house after I have just got in from school is perfectly normal.
I refuse to take the hint that my parents are giving me about sitting down and instead stay standing in the doorway. If I sit down and listen to whatever they have to say, then they will think that I am going to go along with it, which I’m not. I’m sure Sue is nice, and I’m sure she enjoys teaching, but she is going to have to find someone else to read her textbooks with.
It sure as hell isn’t going to be me.
‘I understand your GCSE’s are coming up,’ Sue says, clearly trying to charm me into telling my parents that they should pay this woman whatever fee she is asking for to tutor me. ‘It’s quite a difficult time. I remember when I was studying for my exams. They were a little different back then of course, but-’
‘Sorry, what’s this about?’ I say, interrupting the woman before she can get further into what is probably a carefully rehearsed spiel.
‘Remember we discussed hiring a tutor to help you with your studies?’ Mum says, and I can tell she is nervous about me making her look bad in front of this stranger.
‘I do. I also remember that I told you I didn’t want one,’ I reply, shrugging my shoulders and turning to leave. But even I know it isn’t going to be that easy.
‘If you could just sit down and we can discuss how it’s going to work,’ Dad says, and I know that he just wants to be back in his study and out of this awkward situation. But all of this could be over if only they would listen to me and respect my wishes.
I turn back to face the room and take in the ridiculous sight of my parents sitting opposite this random woman. I notice that they have already made her a cup of tea. They didn’t offer to make me one. Sue already has her feet under the table. But this is as far as she is going to get.
‘Sorry to waste your time Sue but there’s been a mistake. I don’t need a tutor, and I don’t want one either, so you’re better off going somewhere that does.’
Sue seems a little surprised by my honesty, and she nervously picks up her tea and takes a sip. I feel bad that my parents have wasted her time, but I don’t feel bad for speaking my mind. There must be dozens of people out there who want her to teach them. She should be with them, not me.
‘Michael, if you would just sit down. Sue has made an effort to be here, and it would be nice if you listened to what she has to say.’
Mum is trying to manage the situation, but she isn’t doing a good job of it.
‘It would be nice if you listened to what I have to say too,’ I fire back.
She set that one up for me nicely.
‘Two hours a week, starting today. Just give it a try,’ Dad says, but he only wants me to agree so that he doesn’t have to try and teach me himself anymore. That was a disaster. I don’t usually argue with my dad, but we would have killed each other if we had spent any more time with those Maths books at the kitchen table. I’m sure Sue is a better teacher than he is, but that still doesn’t mean I want to put myself through her lessons, especially when I have already had a day full of them at school. I just want to go to my room.
‘No, I’m not doing it,’ I say, turning to leave again, and this time I won’t be stopping.
‘Michael!’ I hear mum call after me, but I’m already heading up the stairs and leaving the awkward situation behind. They are the ones who have wasted Sue’s time so they can be the ones who apologise and ask her to leave. They knew I didn’t want a tutor so they should never have asked somebody to come here.
Eight weeks and all of this will be over.
Why can’t they just leave me alone?
I slam my bedroom door shut and flop onto my bed, picking up the console for my PlayStation and starting another game of FIFA. I know that my parents are going to come in here after Sue has gone and scold me for how I behaved in front of her. But what did they expect? She’s a complete stranger. If I can’t sit down and learn Maths and Science with my own father, then I’m hardly going to sit down and learn it with a randomer.
I do my best to concentrate on the game on screen, but I’m distracted, and I’m 2-0 down before I know it. It’s annoying because I’m usually good at this game, but it’s hard to focus on it with all this rubbish going on around me. I can’t wait to get out of this house and get my own place. I’ll find a job, I’ll have my own money, and then I’ll be free. No more schoolwork. No more exams. No more arguments with my parents.
And no more talk of strangers coming to teach me things that I don’t need to know.
I can’t bloody wait.
10
AMY
I could kill my son. How dare he be so rude in front of Sue. I could only apologise as I showed her out, but she had barely had time to finish her cup of tea before Michael had dismissed her and stormed upstairs. I’ll be having words with him, but I need to calm down first.
I also need to find another tutor.
‘What are we going to do about this?’ I say to Nick as he picks up Sue’s half-drunk tea and carries it into the kitchen.
‘I’ll have a word with him,’ Nick replies but that’s not what I mean, and he knows it.
‘How are we going to help him with his exams if he won’t even give us a chance?’ I say, and I feel so frustrated that I could hit something. In the end, I just pick up a tea towel and wipe down the kitchen counter furiously. Cleaning will calm me down, and there’s always something to be cleaned around here.
‘We could just ground him,’ Nick suggests but I don’t want to do that. Michael needs to want to sit down and learn, not just do it because he is forced into it. He’ll never learn anything that way, and he’ll resent us and the whole concept of education even more. We need to find a way of making it more appealing to him.
‘Was there anybody else on that website?’ I ask as I continue to scrub the counter to within an inch of its life.
‘There was another option,’ Nick says, popping two slices of toast into the toaster and getting crumbs all over the surface that I just cleaned.
‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘I wasn’t sure if she was suitable?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she is much younger than Sue. And...’
&n
bsp; ‘And what?’
I stop cleaning and look at my husband, wondering why he is suddenly being coy.
‘Well, she’s quite...’
‘Quite what?’
‘Erm...’
‘Expensive? Strict? Strange? What?’ I ask, but Nick shakes his head.
‘Attractive,’ he finally says.
‘Attractive?’
‘Well not attractive as such,’ he quickly replies, backtracking while pretending to fiddle with the dials on the toaster.
‘You just said attractive,’ I say, becoming more and more amused at how uncomfortable my husband is.
‘She’s just very different from Sue, that’s all.’
‘Why didn’t you mention her before?’ I ask although I think I already know the answer to that one.
‘I wasn’t sure you would think that she was suitable to teach our son.’
‘It sounds like it isn’t my son who I should be worried about.’
Nick laughs, more out of nerves than anything else, but I’m glad that something has broken the tension in this house ever since Michael was rude in front of Sue.
‘Why don’t you show me and I’ll decide,’ I say, willing to give this other tutor a try if she can get my son to sit still and learn for a moment. It can’t go much worse than it just did.
‘I’ll print off her profile,’ Nick replies as his toast pops up. ‘But only because she has relevant experience.’
‘Of course,’ I say, frowning at my husband’s lame attempts to downplay this woman’s profile picture. I can’t wait to see it and see why my husband is so flustered. She must be some kind of goddess to have him all worked up like this. I’m not thrilled by that thought, but maybe that’s what we need. Maybe that is the only way we will get Michael to go for this whole tutor thing.
‘Try not to get too excited in there,’ I call to my husband as he carries his plate of toast into the study to go and print the profile for me. I’m teasing him and he knows that I’m joking.