An English Boy in New York Read Free Page B

Claudia Gunter here from West Meon Probation Services.’
    â€˜Hi, Ms Gunter, I just sent you an email!’
    â€˜I know you did, Ben. That’s why I’m calling.’
    â€˜Good news about KnitFair, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Well  … ’
    â€˜Top male knitter Fabrice Gentile is going to be there. And there’s a demonstration of a new system for shearing a sheep, treating and dying the wool and knitting it into a jumper all in a hundred and twenty minutes.’
    â€˜I’m sure it’s going to be a blast, Ben,’ she said. ‘The problem is that you can’t go.’
    The incidental music swelled and Dermot piped up again. ‘It’s a crushing blow for Ben. And completely out of the blue.’
    â€˜What?’ I spluttered. ‘Why not?’
    â€˜You’re on probation, Ben! One of the terms of your probation is that you don’t leave the country.’
    The room swam and I felt a bit sick.
    â€˜But you were there when I won the prize,’ I protested. ‘Why didn’t you tell me then?’
    â€˜I thought it was next year’s KnitFair they were talking about.’
    â€˜I was just getting back on the straight and narrow,’ I said. ‘A disappointing setback like this could force me back into a life of crime.’
    â€˜You shoplifted a bottle of Tia Maria from Tesco,’ Ms Gunter said in a withering tone. ‘You’re not Tony Soprano.’
    â€˜It was Martini Rosso, actually,’ I reminded her. ‘From
Waitrose
.’
    â€˜Couldn’t you phone them up and ask if you can attend next year’s show?’ she said.
    â€˜I’ve already got e-tickets!’ I said. ‘They’re not going to want me next year. Especially if I have to tell them I’m a hoodlum.’
    â€˜You’re hardly a hoodlum, Ben,’ she said patiently.
    â€˜So why can’t I go to America?’
    Ms Gunter sighed. ‘I’ll make some calls. See what I can do.’
    â€˜Thanks, Ms Gunter,’ I said, hope surging again.
    â€˜I’m not promising anything, Ben. The Home Office doesn’t tend to make exceptions.’
    I was so wound up after that roller coaster of a phone call that I couldn’t even concentrate on my knitting. The Hoopie I was working on now has a noticeable sag to the left. I’m not even sure how I did it but the hem on the left is two to three inches lower than the right.
    I’ve decided not to tell anyone I might not be going to America. This is the New Ben. Positive Ben. Focused Fletcher. If I pretend everything’s OK, maybe it will be.
    Tuesday 23rd April
    I’m a little concerned about Molly. She came home from school on Friday to tell us she has a boyfriend named Finlay. I was alarmed to hear they’d had what Molly called ‘a romantic moment’ on the buddy bench. This turned out to be nothing more worrying than a quiet chat and an exchange of Moshi Monsters which isn’t as disturbing as it sounds. Mum and Dad just laughed at the whole thing but I don’t think it’s right that children of seven should be having relationships. More to the point, what if Finlay and Molly outlast me and Megan?
    I caught up with Joz at lunch today and asked him about New York. ‘
Another
knitting fair?’ he asked, looking pained. ‘I thought you were over the knitting thing.’
    â€˜I’m not,’ I replied. ‘Look, the fair itself is only on the weekend, the week before is just sightseeing and  … ’
    â€˜Â â€¦Â  and what?’
    â€˜And the occasional knitting-related media event.’
    â€˜So I’d be like your assistant?’
    â€˜Yeah, like in the Tour de France. My support team.’
    â€˜I drive after you in a car with spare needles on the roof rack?’
    â€˜Yes, and inject me with performance-enhancing potions in the team bus.’
    â€˜Potions?’
    â€˜Tea,’ I