He switched off the TV. 'Plenty actually. The usual Latin vocab. And old Fortescue has given us a pig of a history project. We've each been given a street in Bath and we've got to write its history.'
'What's yours?'
'He really planned this. He said as I was given the kiss of life I should have Gay Street. It got a cheap laugh, of course.'
'Some of those masters are no better than the boys they teach. What are you supposed to do tonight?'
'Draw a large plan of it. We've got to show every building. Then tomorrow we start trying to find out when everything was built and who lived there and all that stuff.'
'It sounds more interesting than Latin verbs,' I said by way of encouragement.
The phone rang.
Molly Abershaw. She asked if I had seen the paper.
'Yes, I did,' I admitted in a tone that surrendered nothing.
'And did you like it?'
'Like it?' I said. 'I wouldn't put it as strongly as that. We're not accustomed to being in the newspaper, as I'm sure you must appreciate. But we can't complain. You kept to the facts of what happened. My boss was pleased you mentioned his company by name.'
On the other end of the line, Molly Abershaw was matching me in poise. 'Just out of interest, I was wondering whether you found out any more about the man who saved Matthew's life.'
'No,' I told her. 'Nothing else. I've been asking around, but with no result. That quote you attributed to me in your report – the one about wanting to thank him personally – I really meant it.'
Now the voice became more animated. 'That's why I wanted to talk to you, Mrs Didrikson. I've got this idea for a follow-up. I thought we might run a 'Find the Hero' piece, appealing to our readers to help.'
'I see.'
'You don't sound too overjoyed.'
'To tell you the truth,' I said, 'I thought there wouldn't be any more in the papers.'
'But you said you'd like to find him.'
'Well, yes.'
'But you said
'This is as good a way as any. What I would like from you is another quote to say how keen you are to find this man.'
'Obviously I am. He put his own life at risk and saved my son. We'd dearly like the opportunity to say how grateful we are, but -'
'Great. And Maxim would like to take a picture of you and Matthew together. He can do it first thing tomorrow if you like, before Matthew leaves for school.'
'That would be early. He leaves at 8.30.'
'No problem. Maxim will be with you soon after 8.00. And Mrs Didrikson…?'
'Yes.'
'Would you mind asking Matthew the names of his two friends? I'm hoping that they might remember some detail that would help us find the man.'
I was wary. 'I'm not sure about that. Couldn't we keep the boys out of it?'
'I just want a word with them. I'm wondering if between us we can get a description good enough to publish an artist's impression of the man.'
'The police do that to identify criminals,' I pointed out.
There was a moment's silence, then: 'I hadn't seen it that way, and I doubt if our readers would. Anyway, I would like to hear from those boys. They can talk to me on the phone tomorrow. Do you have our number? It's on the back page of the paper.'
I said that without making any promises, I would speak to Mat about it.
'Fair enough. And of course if Mat should remember anything else, I'll be delighted to hear from him.'
'I'll tell him.' I put down the phone. It was a strain being subject to so much interest. I had some sympathy with Matthew's rescuer if he wanted to remain unknown.
Chapter Four
ON FRIDAY, MATTHEW CAME INTO the kitchen and opened the fridge. I asked him what he was hoping to find.
'Some of that custard,' was his answer.
'You're an optimist,' I told him. 'You had the last of it yesterday. There's ice cream in the freezer if you're really desperate. What have they given you for homework this weekend?' Time always seems to be so short that my conversations with my son are reduced to this sort of exchange. I don't like playing the over-anxious mum, but that was how it must have seemed to him, and it certainly seemed so to me. At this age, he doesn't often want to share his thoughts, so we keep to the practicalities, and homework is inescapable.
He told me he'd been given a Latin translation to complete, a scripture reading for a test on Monday and -I quote – 'that sodding history project'.
'Matthew.' I'd heard much worse language when I was driving taxis, but from my own child it was wounding. 'What exactly are you objecting to?'
'We're supposed to find out the famous people who lived in the street and write something about their lives. It's easy for Piers. He was given the Circus, and there are plaques with the names up. I'm stuck with Gay Street, worse luck.'
'Well you must do some research. That's the point of the exercise, I expect.'
'Research?'
'Don't be so dumb, Mat. There must be books you can look up.'
'Where?'
'The library, for a start.'
'You've got to be joking.'
'Not the school library. The public library. We'll go tomorrow. I'll show you where to look.'
'What time tomorrow? You work Saturdays.'
'I can't say just now, love. I'll try and make time.'
He gave me a look that said he didn't have much faith. Then he turned his back on me and slouched into the back room. I heard him switch on the TV. I felt the tension in my neck and shoulders. If I couldn't spare the child enough time to help him with his homework, what was the point of it all? And my sense of despair wasn't helped, by Mat's ungraciousness. I have to remind myself repeatedly that his behaviour is normal in an adolescent. He hasn't acquired the maturity to cope with his hormones – if they ever do. His father's example is no encouragement.
There was a sudden shout from the back room of, 'Ma, come here.'
It riled me. 'You don't speak to me like that, Matthew.'
'Quick.'
The urgency in his voice galvanized me. I found Matthew on his knees in front of the television set with his finger against the screen.
'That's him!'
'Who?'
'Him – the man who saved my life.'
On the screen I glimpsed a dark-haired man with a moustache, and then the camera moved on to other things, the interior of some lofty room with pillars and chandeliers. Then a young woman in a blue shirt was shown asking a question.
Matthew said, 'They'll show him again.'
'Who is it?'
'I don't know. I just switched over.'
