Mr Moretti remained in a corner of the restaurant until the special guest asked a passing waiter for the bill, at which point he made his way back to table eleven.
‘What a wonderful meal,’ Mr Quilter said as he ran a finger down the bill. He took out his chequebook, filled in the figures and added a generous tip. He handed the cheque to Mr Moretti, who tore it in half.
Mr and Mrs Quilter were unable to hide their surprise. ‘I don’t understand,’ Mr Quilter eventually managed.
‘I need a favour, sir,’ said Moretti.
*
Elena straightened Sasha’s tie, and stood back to take a careful look at her son. He was dressed in his Sunday best, a recent purchase from a local church jumble sale. The suit may have been a little on the large size, but nothing a needle and thread hadn’t taken care of.
Mr Moretti had given Elena the morning off, although he was just as nervous about the outcome as she was. A red double-decker bus transported mother and son to the next borough, and they got off outside a vast set of wrought-iron gates. They walked through into a courtyard, where Elena asked one of the boys for directions to the headmaster’s office.
‘How nice to meet you both,’ said Mr Quilter, when his secretary ushered them into his study. ‘Now, I know Mr Sutton is expecting us, so let’s not keep him waiting.’
Elena and Sasha obediently followed Mr Quilter out of the room and into a crowded corridor, full of smartly dressed, exuberant young boys, who immediately stood aside when they saw the headmaster heading towards them. Elena admired their smart blue monogrammed uniforms with dismay.
The headmaster stopped outside a classroom with the words MR SUTTON MA (OXON) painted on the pebbled glass. He knocked, opened the door and led the candidate in.
A man wearing a long black academic gown over his suit rose from his desk as they entered his classroom.
‘Good morning, Mrs Karpenko,’ said the senior mathematics master. ‘My name is Arnold Sutton, and I’m delighted you were both able to join us today. I’ll be conducting the examination.’
‘How nice to meet you, Mr Sutton,’ said Elena as they shook hands.
‘You must be Sasha,’ he said, giving the boy a warm smile. ‘Please, take a seat and I will explain what we have planned.’
‘Meanwhile, Mrs Karpenko,’ said the headmaster, ‘perhaps we should return to my study while the test is taking place.’
Once the headmaster and Elena had left the room, Mr Sutton turned his attention to the young applicant.
‘Sasha,’ he said, opening a file and extracting three sheets of paper, ‘this is the mathematics examination that was taken by those pupils who wished to enter the sixth form of Latymer Upper.’ He placed three pages on the desk in front of Sasha. ‘The time allocated for the test is one hour, and I suggest you read each question carefully before answering it. Do you have any questions?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good.’ The schoolmaster checked his watch. ‘I’ll warn you when you have fifteen minutes left.’
*
‘You do understand, Mrs Karpenko,’ said Mr Quilter as they walked back down the corridor, ‘that the exam your son is sitting is not only for pupils hoping to enter the sixth form here at Latymer, but also for those preparing to go on to university.’
‘That’s no more than I would want for Sasha,’ said Elena.
‘Yes, of course, Mrs Karpenko. But I must warn you that he will have to get sixty-five per cent to pass. If he does, we would be delighted to offer him a place at Latymer Upper.’
‘Then I must warn you, Mr Quilter, that I couldn’t afford the school uniform, let alone the fees.’
The headmaster hesitated. ‘We do offer places for pupils in, shall we say, straitened circumstances. And of course,’ he added quickly, ‘we award academic scholarships for exceptionally gifted children.’ Elena didn’t look convinced. ‘Can I offer you a coffee?’
‘No thank you, Mr Quilter. I’m sure you must be very busy, so please go back to work. I’m perfectly happy to read a magazine while I’m waiting.’
‘That’s most considerate of you,’ said the headmaster, ‘as I do have rather a lot of paperwork to be getting on with. But I’ll return just as soon as . . .’
The door was flung open and Mr Sutton burst in even before the headmaster could finish his sentence. He walked quickly across to Mr Quilter and whispered in his ear.
‘Would you be kind enough to wait here, Mrs Karpenko?’ said the headmaster. ‘I will be back shortly.’
‘Is there a problem?’ asked Elena anxiously, but the two men had already left the room.
‘You say he finished the exam in twenty minutes? That barely seems possible.’
‘What’s even more incredible,’ said Sutton, almost on the run, ‘he scored a hundred per cent, and frankly looked bored.’ He opened the door of his classroom to allow the headmaster to enter.
‘Karpenko,’ said Quilter, after he’d glanced at a long row of ticks, ‘can I ask if you’ve ever seen this paper before?’
‘No, sir.’
The headmaster studied the pupil’s answers more carefully, before asking, ‘Would you be willing to answer a couple of oral questions?’
‘Yes, of course, sir.’
The headmaster nodded to Mr Sutton.
‘Karpenko, if I throw three dice,’ said Sutton, ‘what is the probability that the result will be a total of ten?’
The would-be scholar picked up his pen and began to write out various combinations of three numbers. Four minutes later, he put the pen down and said, ‘One in eight, sir.’
‘Remarkable,’ said Sutton. He smiled at the headmaster, who, as a classicist, was none the wiser. ‘My second question is, if you were offered odds of ten to one that you couldn’t throw ten with three dice, would you accept the bet?’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Sasha without hesitation, ‘because on average, I would win every eight throws. But I would want to place at least a hundred bets before I would consider it to be statistically reliable.’
Mr Sutton turned to Mr Quilter and said, ‘Headmaster, please don’t allow this boy to go to any other school.’
9
ALEX
En route to Brooklyn
Alex gazed into a dark hole that masses of people were rushing into. ‘Follow me,’ said Dimitri, as he led his reluctant charges down a narrow flight of steps, before coming to a halt in front of a ticket barrier. He purchased three tickets, then they made their way onto a long dirty platform.
Alex heard a rumbling sound in the distance, like the prelude to a thunderstorm, and then out of a vast cavern at the far end of the platform appeared a train like no other train he’d ever seen before. In Leningrad the stations were carved in green marble, the carriages were clean, and it was only the passengers who were grey.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ said Dimitri, as the doors slid open. ‘Ten stops, and we’ll be in Brooklyn.’ But neither of them was listening, both preoccupied with their own thoughts.