‘But first you’ve got maths homework, so we need to get back to do it,’ I add.
Jacob groans. ‘I hate maths . . .’
‘What’s wrong with math?’ Zach asks.
‘Everything. But fractions mainly . . .’
‘They’re the work of the devil, according to Jacob,’ I tell Zach.
‘I can’t add them up when the denominator is different. It’s too hard.’
‘Ah. I see. I used to hate that too when I was your age. But you know what? Someone showed me a trick that I haveneverforgotten that makes them super easy. It’s basically cheating . . .’
Jacob’s interest is now piqued. ‘So . . . what’s the trick?’
‘Hmm. I’m not sure I could show you here.’
‘Come back to ours!’
‘Jacob. I’m sure Zach’s busy . . .’
But he catches my eye. There is a playful glint in it. ‘I’ll always make time for a little math.’
Chapter 42
I’m not saying my hallway is a disaster area, but there are seismic risk zones in better shape after we’ve all piled out of the house on a Saturday morning. It certainly doesn’t have the serene, tasteful ambience I always imagined when I first decorated. There are several pairs of shoes discarded by the door, half a cup of cold coffee on the sideboard, one filthy sock and the kids’ bags, which they both dropped on the floor after school last night and, after a late Friday working and an early start, I didn’t get the chance to move.
‘It’s not always like this,’ I mutter, cursing myself that I didn’t follow through on that Swedish self-care tip I saw on Instagram – to buy a bouquet of beautiful flowers every Friday to celebrate simply reaching the end of the week. Who am I kidding? If I’d just had the chance to throw the hoover around and clear away the breakfast dishes, it would’ve been something.
We enter the kitchen and I feel a beat of relief that I cleared away the knickers I’d left drying on the radiator overnight.
‘Take a seat, sorry it’s such a mess,’ I say, shoving a plate into the dishwasher.
‘It’s not a mess, it’s a home,’ he says. ‘I’d take this any day over the place I’m staying in.’
‘Yeah, it must be awful, all those gleaming taps, the 24-hour gym. I bet you’ve got a nice cleaning lady who comes in and polishes your loo for you . . .’
‘Actually, he’s a guy called George, but I take your point. It does have some benefits. Charm and homeliness isn’t one ofthem,’ he says, looking at my vintage ‘Elbow’ poster. ‘So where’s my student gone?’
‘Oh, good point. Jacob has a knack of conveniently forgetting about maths homework at the first opportunity.’
‘I heard that,’ Jacob says, appearing at the door with his fractions book.
Zach laughs. ‘Okay, come on over here. But you gotta promise once I’ve told you this trick, you keep it a secret. Only a very special few get to know it.’
Jacob gives a tentative smile.
‘I’m not kidding!’ Zach grins and Jacob, unsure, decides: ‘Okay, I promise.’
They sit at the kitchen table while I set about bringing some order to the place. Each time I glance over, I have to actively stop myself from smiling and concentrate instead on putting away the mugs.
All in all, it takes about 35 minutes for Jacob to crack it. 35.
And all it’s cost me is a cup of coffee, as opposed to the umpteen pounds I’ve spent on tutoring, which got precisely nowhere.
‘This guy was having you on,’ Zach says, as Jacob beams proudly next to him. ‘He can totally do fractions.’
‘I couldn’t before! You should do YouTube videos. You’d getbillionsof views.’
