by Daniel Hurst
If only we had left it there.
Little did we know it at the time, but that was the moment when everything would change in our family.
THE THIRD LESSON
The funeral took place two weeks after the fire.
It seemed like half the town came out to pay their respects and maybe they did. Everybody from the school was there in one way or another. Pupils lined the road outside the burnt-out shell of the school as the hearse moved past them. Many of them might not have wanted to be there, but the Headmaster made it mandatory. Teachers stood amongst them, some weeping, others more focused on trying to get some of the unruly members of the crowd to behave. Many of the pupils’ parents were there too, paying their respects while thankful that it hadn’t been their family that had been destroyed.
That unfortunate family was sitting in the black car that passed the sea of faces. It trundled along past the site of the fire on its way to the church where the service would take place. Inside the car, a grieving woman dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and tried to appreciate the turnout while wishing that none of this was happening.
When the cars had passed, the crowd began to disperse. The details for the temporary school were still being finalised, as were the plans to relocate the end of year exams to Maxwell High and for now, the pupils were free to go home. Some of them were happy about this, unshackled from the burden of lessons and homework and free to do as they wished in the middle of the day. Others seemed more thoughtful and took time to look at the site where the school used to stand, as well as watching the portable cabins being put into place by cranes and trucks. Those cabins would become the school for now, until a more permanent one was built in its place.
But that would take time and time seemed to be standing still today. A funeral always makes people aware of their mortality and everybody who watched the hearse go by felt it, even if they covered it up with laughter, jokes and childish games. Nobody likes to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. Nobody wants to be reminded that it will be them in that wooden box one day.
The third lesson is that death can come for us when we least expect it.
11
AMY
My husband said this woman was attractive, but he was lying.
She’s not attractive.
She’s hotter than a goddamn volcano.
Petra is sitting opposite us on our sofa, looking all prim and proper, but I’m trying not to let her appearance affect my decision-making ability. She has the qualifications for this job. She has the experience. She is charging a fair price. And she is very pleasant.
Now we just need to make sure that she gets Michael’s approval.
‘Can you go and get him?’ I ask my husband after my son has failed to appear despite us calling him a moment ago.
‘No probs,’ Nick says, bounding up off his seat on the sofa and heading to the door quickly. He never moves this fast, and he never says ‘No probs.’ Maybe he is trying to seem youthful and trendier in front of this woman. Or maybe I’m already reading far too much into things.
‘So how many other students are you teaching at the moment?’ I ask Petra to fill what would otherwise be an awkward silence.
‘Two. Both girls. They are in their last year of school as well,’ the woman replies in her Scandinavian accent that sounds a lot more poetic than my Brummie one.
‘Have you had a male student before?’ I ask. It’s the first question that popped into my head, mainly because I want to know if she isn’t teaching any at the moment because there have been no offers or because the last one she taught ended up falling in love with her and she had to end the arrangement.
‘Of course. I love teaching men. I find that they are better students than women.’
I smile, even though I find it strange to hear her refer to teenagers as men. Michael is certainly not a man, even if he thinks he is. He is still a long way off being grown up. The fact that he still spends all of his free time playing video games is enough to tell me that.
I can hear my husband and son coming down the stairs, so I decide not to ask another question right now. There will be plenty of time for more of them later, but first, we need to find the answer to the only question that matters.
Is Michael going to agree with the idea of having this woman as his tutor?
I’m intrigued to witness my son’s reaction when he sees the next option that we have brought for him. I’m expecting him to be a little more receptive to Petra than he was to Sue but maybe not for the right reasons. I know Michael will be attracted to her, just like I know that Nick is too, even though he pretends that he isn’t. That might mean my son is willing to give her a chance, but it doesn’t mean that they will be compatible as student and teacher. But right now, I need him to agree to this whole thing and not storm back upstairs like he did last time. If he says yes to Petra, then I don’t care that it might only be because he fancies her. If it gets him to sit down and do some revising, then that is the main thing. Lord knows nothing else has worked so far.
I watch the doorway as I hear Nick and Michael approaching. It is my husband who walks in first, and he purposefully makes sure he doesn’t look at Petra as he walks in because he knows that I am watching him like a hawk. But Michael has no idea what is waiting for him, and that becomes clear when he walks through the door and sees the woman sitting opposite me.
‘Oh, hi,’ he says quickly, instinctively standing up straighter and pushing his chest out to make himself look bigger and more grown-up than he is.
‘You must be Michael,’ Petra says, and she stands up and offers her hand to him.
Michael glances in my direction before he shakes it, nervous about being in the presence of a woman like this and even more so because he knows his mum and dad are watching him.
He shakes Petra’s hand and looks down at his feet, which I find endearing because he is obviously shy. But the tutor shows no such signs of nervousness. She simply compliments my son on his height and his t-shirt, which displays the logo of one of his favourite bands.
I’m about to stand up and draw the line if she touches one of his arms and asks him if he works out, but she doesn’t do and instead sits back down on the sofa and smiles at me.
‘This is Petra, and she is from Sweden,’ Nick says, holding out his hand towards the woman as if my son needs it pointing out to him who he is referring to, which he doesn’t. There’s only one Nordic beauty in this room and it sure as hell isn’t me. But Nick points her out all the same and I assume it is just another nervous body movement because he is in the presence of such beauty. But I’m not sure why he had to highlight the fact that she is Swedish? Would he have bothered to mention where she was from if she was from Stoke?
I don’t know why, but some men seem to have a fascination with Scandinavian women, and my husband is obviously no different. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should give Sue another call and see if she is willing to give it another try.
But Petra is here now, and Michael is still standing in the room, which means this is already going better than it went with the older woman a couple of days ago. But now that the introductions are out of the way, it’s time to get down to why we are all here.
‘Can you sit down a minute,’ I say to Michael, and I mean for him to take the empty seat beside me, but Petra is already moving up on her sofa and making space for him.
Michael looks at the cushioned seat beside the Swede before sitting down on the floor instead. He obviously doesn’t want to sit next to me because he wants to appear grown-up, but he’s too shy to sit beside Petra. That might be okay for now but will pose a problem when it comes time for the two of them to revise together.
‘Petra is a private tutor and specialises in teaching people for their GCSE exams,’ I say, getting to the point. ‘We’ve told her that you are looking for a little help with your Maths.’
Michael shrugs. ‘Just a little bit,’ he says, and he is clearly trying to make it seem unimportant, but
for me it is monumental. It is the first time I have ever heard my son acknowledge the fact that he might need help with certain subjects.
‘It just so happens that Maths is my strong suit,’ Petra says, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at my son. ‘I can teach all subjects, even English if required, but I have most of my experience in Maths. I find that it’s the one that students tend to struggle with the most.’
‘Because it’s the most boring one,’ Michael says, obviously trying to be funny in front of our guest. Petra laughs a little, which I know will make my son feel good, but she also keeps her professional nature in front of us.
‘I wouldn’t call it boring, but it certainly isn’t as interesting as some of the other, more creative subjects,’ she says.
‘How long have you been over here?’ Nick suddenly asks, and I’m not sure why that is relevant.
‘Four years,’ Petra replies.
‘Awesome,’ Nick says, and I have never heard him use that word either.
Is this what it is going to be like around here if Petra ends up getting the job? Will my husband and son be reduced to two awkward, uncomfortable people who can’t sit still, say unnatural words and generally look as if they can’t relax until they are alone again?
Maybe this is a bad idea. But then Michael asks her another question, and despite what I suspect his true motivation to be, he is at least still in the room. If this goes well over the next few minutes, then I don’t see any reason not to offer Petra the job, at least on a trial basis.
Michael likes her. Nick likes her. And I like her too. Bella hasn’t met her yet, but I’m sure she will be excited to have another female in the house. She will probably want to find out how Petra gets her hair looking so amazing. I wouldn’t mind finding out too.
By the time the Swedish tutor leaves our home thirty minutes later, I have given her the job.
12
MICHAEL
I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to do some revision. Tonight is going to be my first lesson with the tutor that Mum and Dad have found for me, and I can’t wait.
Her name is Petra, and she is gorgeous.
She should be here in half an hour, so that gives me just a little more time to get myself ready for her arrival. I’ve already showered and put on a fresh pair of jeans, as well as the same t-shirt that I wore when I first met the Swedish tutor. She told me that she liked it, so I’ve decided to wear it again. I’ve also spent time making sure my hair is gelled to perfection and that any spots on my face have been covered up with some of Mum’s makeup that she doesn’t know I use. I’m looking sharp, and I’m ready to impress Petra.
But there’s still time to do more.
Dropping to the floor, I do ten push-ups in a bid to get the blood pumping in my arms so that they will look more prominent when she gets here. I’m not skinny, but I’m not muscular either, although I might start working out more now that I have somebody to impress. The girls at school don’t look anything like Petra. They’re all plain and boring. But my tutor is stunning.
Maybe there is a chance that something could happen between us. It’s highly unlikely, but what have I got to lose? Mum and Dad want me to sit with a tutor twice a week and I have agreed to it. So what if it’s only because I’m attracted to that tutor. I only have to pretend that I’m learning. What matters is that I get to spend four hours a week with her.
I’ve already told my mates about Petra, and they are all jealous, although I haven’t been able to show them a photo of her yet. I don’t know her surname so I can’t find her on social media, but I’m determined to find out tonight. As soon as I have her full name then I can find her profile page online and send it to all of my mates, and then they really will be jealous. I bet some of them will even try and persuade their parents that they need a tutor too. But it won’t work because they are all cleverer than me.
The jokes on them.
I’m just about to start my second set of press-ups when I stop suddenly. I shouldn’t be exercising. I just showered. What if I end up sweating and Petra thinks I’m smelly? Then she won’t let me get closer to her. She might even cancel the lesson and leave. Then Mum and Dad will get that other woman back, and I’ll be stuck learning Maths with her instead of with a beautiful Swedish woman.
I get back to my feet and rush towards my bedroom window, opening it wider in an attempt to get more cool air inside and lower my body temperature before I start sweating. It was a good idea to try and get a pump going in my arms, but I need to plan it better. I will do the push-ups before my shower next time. That way, I will look buff and smell good when Petra arrives to teach me.
Checking the time, I see that our first lesson is due to begin in five minutes. That gives me just enough time to review my hair in the mirror again and put another squirt of deodorant on. I’m annoyed because I have run out of aftershave so I can’t use any of that tonight. I stupidly wasted a lot of it on some of the house parties that I have been to recently, vainly trying to impress some of the girls from school who were in attendance. But I should have saved it for tonight when I will be in the presence of a real woman. The girls at school wouldn’t appreciate good aftershave, but I bet Petra would. Plus it would make me seem older, and that is what I need to do. I’m aware that she is much older than me. I don’t know how old exactly, but there must be at least ten years between us. I don’t consider it a problem, but she might. That means that I have to make sure that I behave older than my age. I can’t be childish around her. I can’t talk about playing video games all the time, even though that’s all I do. And I can’t let Mum and Dad boss me around in front of her. I need them to treat me like an adult when she is here and not their child.
I have already had this discussion with them, although I had to do it in a way that wouldn’t reveal the fact that I have a massive crush on my tutor. I just told them that they aren’t to come in when we are in a lesson, nor are they to embarrass me with any stories about what I was like as a child. I need Petra to see me as a grown man, which I’m not quite but will be soon. If she does, then I have a chance with her.
That is all I can ask for.
I just wish I had some damn aftershave left. Then I have an idea. I might not have any aftershave, but I bet Dad does. It will be in his toiletries bag in the bathroom.
I leave my room and reach the door at the end of the hallway.
But it’s locked.
‘I need to get in,’ I say to whoever is on the other side of it.
‘Go away,’ I hear my annoying little sister shout back.
‘Bella, stop hogging the bathroom!’ I call back.
Then I hear a knock at the front door.
It’s too late.
The tutor is here.
13
NICK
The tutor is here. But I better let Amy answer the door. I don’t want it to look like I am too excited to get a glimpse of the sexy woman that has just turned up at our house. I’ll play it safe and stay in my study. I’ll let my wife welcome Petra in, and then I’ll leave my son to his lesson. There’s no need for me to go out and say hello, even if it would be titillating to have a little chat with the tutor. But I’m a grown man. I’m married. It’s silly to feel all giddy about the presence of an attractive woman who isn’t my wife. It’s not as if I want to do anything. I love Amy. I’m happy. But I spend all day in this house, and I haven’t flirted with another woman in years. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It would just be nice to do - a little confidence booster. Getting a smile off Petra would give me a warm glow, then I can come back to my study and get on with my night.
God, I need to get out more.
I hear my wife greeting the tutor, and then I hear her calling upstairs to our son. He will hate that. He has expressively told us that we are not to treat him like a child in front of Petra, nor are we to do anything that might embarrass him. He hasn’t said why, but it is obvious.
He fancies her.
That’s my boy.
If I’m honest, I’m just glad that we have found a way of getting Michael to sit down and do some extra studying. I don’t care if he is smitten with his tutor, nor do I care if he spends half of the lessons fantasising about what it would be like to be intimate with her. As long as he spends at least some of the lesson learning things that are going to help him pass his exams in eight weeks, then that is all that matters.
Petra will be coming here twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursday evenings, for two hours at a time. I am hoping that the extra work she does with my son will give him the boost he needs ahead of the tests that are going to carry him into his adult life. But part of me feels a little sad that we left it so late before finding him a tutor, although that’s not just because I wish my son had more time to learn.
It’s because I wish there would be more visits from the pretty Swede.
I shake my head and tell myself to stop being daft. I’m forty. It’s fine for Michael to have a crush on another woman, but it’s silly for me. I’m far too old for all that malarky. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman like Petra even if I had the chance, which I never will because I don’t want to have it.
Think about Amy, I tell myself, and it seems to be working right up until the moment when I hear the Swedish accent on the other side of my study door.
God, it’s sexy.
It sounds like Amy is showing Petra through to the kitchen where the lesson will be held with Michael. They are going to sit at the table, and we are not going to interrupt them. Amy did float the idea of having them use my study to conduct the sessions, but I managed to talk her out of that, telling her that it would be a big job to tidy all my paperwork up and that there is actually more space at the kitchen table than there is at this desk. In reality, it is because I don’t want to give up my study because that would mean that I have nowhere that I can retreat to whenever I feel like I need some space. If Michael and Petra are in here, then I’ll either be stuck on the sofa with my wife watching some awful reality show or I will be sat in Bella’s bedroom having my hair braided again. I love my daughter to bits, but I don’t have much hair left now, and I’ll have even less if I allow her to keep tying it into tight bobbles.