An English Boy in New York Read Free Page A

celeb learning how to do something for the first time, like baking a cake, or recording a song, or performing open-heart surgery and there’ll be a phone call they’re nervously waiting for where they find out if the cake rose, or the song got to number one, or the patient survived.
    â€˜This is the big moment,’ the voice-over person (usually Dermot O’Leary) will say. ‘If things have gone badly, it could mean the end of (insert B-list celeb’s name here)’s career in baking/singing/cardio surgery.’
    Well, my whole life is like that. A series of moderately dramatic episodes and a constant, low-level anxiety. There’s the occasional properly exciting moment, of course, like when I won at the All-UK Knitting Championship. But mostly it’s minor triumphs or, more often, slight disappointments.
    I popped into the school office at break today.
    Lloyd Manning was sitting outside Mrs Tyler’s office looking thunderous.
    â€˜What have you done this time?’ I asked. I was full of courage knowing that he couldn’t very well start gouging my eyes out here in the office.
    He ignored me.
    â€˜Don’t talk to him,’ called Miss Lucie the receptionist. ‘What do you want here, anyway?’
    â€˜Is Mrs Tyler free?’ I asked.
    She was, as it happened, and Miss Lucie told me to go straight in.
    â€˜Hi, Ben,’ she said brightly. ‘What can I do for you?’ Mrs Tyler’s been a lot happier since I won the knitting competition. I’m not saying it was entirely down to me, but a week after the win, Virilia announced a new three-year sponsorship for the school. We’re now the Virilia Academy of Excellence in Mathematics and Agriculture. The sports hall is getting a new roof and has now been renamed the Virilia Academy Stadium of Dreams.
    â€˜You know how I won that knitting competition,’ I began.
    â€˜Yes. Thank you,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, I’ve been given two tickets to go to KnitFair USA. In New York.’
    â€˜How wonderful.’
    â€˜But it’s in term time. In a couple of weeks, as it happens.’
    She frowned and paused.
    Dermot O’Leary popped up in my head and started speaking in a quiet, concerned voice. ‘Will Mrs Tyler allow Ben to travel to the US? If she doesn’t, it could mean the end of Ben’s hopes.’
    â€˜How long would you be going for?’
    â€˜A week, just a week,’ I said. ‘And a day, because I’d fly back on the Monday.’
    â€˜And you said you had two tickets? Will your mother be going with you?’
    â€˜Er  … ’
    â€˜Another student?’
    â€˜Possibly  … ’ I said slowly, trying to gauge her reaction.
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜I’m not sure yet,’ I replied. ‘I have a few options.’
    â€˜I’m happy for you to go, Ben,’ she said. ‘Mr Hollis from Virilia will be delighted to hear you are pursuing your knitting interests. You know they are very keen for us to develop our entrepreneurial focus. I am however less sure about allowing
two
students to go. I’d have to be reassured that it would be in the long-term interests of the other student as well.’
    Oh God. Looks like it might have to be my mother after all, if I don’t think of something quick.
    * * *
    Dear Ms Gunter,
    Thank you for your letter dated 19 h April, requesting my attendance at a Waypoint Assessment Conversation on the 4 th May. I am emailing you today to ask if it would be possible to re-arrange the date for that appointment as I will be in New York at that time attending KnitFair USA.
    Sorry about this. I am free the week before, or the week after. Or indeed any other week. My calendar is almost entirely empty right up until the SuperStitch Eisteddfod in Wokingham on the 24 th June.
    Best wishes,
    Ben
    So about five seconds after sending that email I get a call from Ms Gunter.
    â€˜Hello, Ben? It’s