William Sutcliffe - The Gifted, the Talented, and Me

For Saul, Iris, and Juno
and for any teacher who has ever given up their time to put on a school play

COME DOWNSTAIRS, EVERYONE! FAMILY MEETING!

Even though I was mildly curious about why Dad was back from work so early, and what a family meeting might involve, I stayed put in my room.

PIZZA! he added. Last one down gets the Hawaiian!

Doors slammed, footsteps thundered down the staircase, and I leaped up. After a brief tussle with Ethan in the kitchen doorway, during which Freya somehow managed to crawl between our legs and get the first slice, we all assembled around the table, eating straight from takeout boxes spread over a layer of drawings, uncompleted homework, unopened letters, and unread magazines.

Ethan, who was seventeen and hadnt worn any color except black for the past three years, announced through a mouthful of pizza, I dont care who gets custody, but Im not moving out of my bedroom.

Custody? said Mom.

Yeah. Im not leaving, and Im not going anywhere on weekends.

Youve got the wrong end of the stick, love, said Mom. Were not getting divorced.

Oh, said Ethan. So whats all this about a family meeting?

Freya, who lived in a seven-year-olds fantasy universe populated exclusively by fairies, unicorns, and cats, temporarily tuned in to reality and began to cry. Youre getting divorced?

Mom jumped out of her chair, dashed around the table, and lifted Freya into her arms. Were not getting divorced. Dont worry.

But Ethan said you are!

Ethans wrong.

How do I know youre telling the truth? said Freya. How do I know youre not just saying that to protect me?

Ethan! snapped Mom. Look what youve done. Tell Freya you made it up.

I didnt make it up.

You did! Nobody said anything about divorce until you piped up.

I worked it out for myself.

INCORRECTLY! WERE NOT GETTING A DIVORCE!

Why not? said Ethan.

What? replied Mom. Youre asking me why were not getting a divorce?

If you cant even think of an answer, maybe we should be worried, said Ethan.

STOP! said Dad. Rewind. Stay calm. Theres no divorce. I called this meeting because we have something to tell you.

Trial separation? said Ethan.

No. Its good news.

This shut everyone up. The idea of good news hadnt occurred to us.

I sold my company, said Dad, leaning back in his chair, with a grin spreading across his face.

Ethan, Freya, and I stared at him blankly.

You have a company? I said.

Yes! Of course I do! What do you think Ive been doing every day for the last six years?

I shrugged.

Well, until last week I had a company. But now Ive sold it!

He beamed at us, waiting for a response. None of us had any idea what he was talking about, or why he was making such a performance of this fantastically dull information. Freya, losing interest in the entire conversation, pulled a notebook from her pocket and began to draw.

For a lot of money, he added.

Ethans eyes rose from his pizza.

When you say a lot are you saying ?

Were rich! said Mom, leaping up with Freya still in her arms and beginning to dance around the kitchen. Were rich! Were rich! Goodbye, Stevenage! Goodbye, cramped, boxy little house! Its going to be a whole new life! Nobody believed he could do it, but he did! He made it! Were rich!

How rich? said Ethan.

Comfortable, said Dad.

Stinking, said Mom.

Not stinking, said Dad. Mildly smelly.

Can I have a new phone? said Ethan.

The only clue this might have been about to happen was Dads job. Or lack of one. When Freya was still a baby, he walked out on whatever it was he was doing back thensomething that involved wearing a tie and getting home after I was in bedand installed himself in the shed at the bottom of our garden. He spent months on end squirreling around down there, dressed like hed just crawled out of a dumpster (which, in fact, he often had), and from this point on, when people asked him what he did for a living, he said he was an entrepreneur. If he was trying to sound interesting, he sometimes said inventor.

He was always coming and going with random bits of machinery, then occasionally hed turn up in the kitchen wearing a suit, and wed all be kind of, Whoa! Who are you? How did you get into the house? But after making fun of him for looking like an employable adult, none of us ever remembered to ask him where he was going.

One of those meetings must have generated a source of serious money, because at some point he stopped tinkering in the shed, upgraded his wardrobe from dumpster-diver to blind-man-stumbling-out-of-a-rummage-sale, and went off to work in a warehouse somewhere. Or maybe it was an office. I never thought of asking him. He was just my dad, going out to work like everyone elses dad. What this actually involved didnt seem important. As long as he showed up at breakfast and on weekends, and drove me where I needed to go, it didnt occur to me to wonder what he did all day.

Then there was a week when he flew off to America, carrying brand-new luggage and a floppy suit bag Id never seen before. This time I remembered to ask what he was up to, but he just said meetings. There was something in the way Mom wished him luck as he set off that did seem oddthe way she said it, like she genuinely meant itbut a couple of minutes later I forgot all about the whole thing.

It was just after he got home from America that our first-ever family meeting was called.

Hang on, I said, interrupting Moms celebration dance. What do you mean goodbye, Stevenage?

You dont think were going to stay here, do you? said Mom. Rich people dont live in Stevenage. They live in London! Dads sold his company, Ive handed in my notice at work, and we can finally get out of this dump and move to London!

But I like Stevenage, I said.

The only people who like Stevenage are people whove never been anywhere else, said Ethan.

Ive been to the same places as you.

No, you havent. And youve barely read a book in your life. Your idea of culture is bowling.

Whats that got to do with liking Stevenage?

See? Ignorant.

I looked across at Mom for support, hoping shed take my side, but it looked like she hadnt even heard. Her expression reminded me of the thing you see in cartoons when peoples eyeballs turn into dollar signs.

So were moving? I asked.

Yes! said Mom. As soon as we can! To a place Ive been dreaming of all my life. There are beautiful Victorian houses, and its in London but its near an enormous park, and even though its expensive, its filled with artists and musicians and publishers and creative people. Its calledher voice dipped to a reverential whisperHampstead.

Thats where were going to live? said Ethan.

Yes, and theres an amazing school where the artists and musicians and publishers send their children. Its called the North London Academy for the Gifted and Talented. Ive been in touch already, and we have places for all three of you. Freya, youll be able to do as much painting as you like, taught by real artists. Ethan, youll be able to concentrate on your music and maybe start a band. And Sam, youll um youll have a lovely time and meet lots of interesting new friends.

I dont want new friends. I like the friends Ive got, I said.