The Tutor

Chapter 8

Nora still couldn't believe Rafe tracked her down all the way at her part-time job to ask for her help. He must be really desperate.

She couldn't concentrate on tonight's episode of X Factor. Curled up in the corner of the sofa she stroked her cat Luna's fur.

"Oh, poor chap, I really liked this one, voice of an angel," her grandmother, Joyce, sighed, leaning back into her favourite purple, plush armchair. She sipped one small glass of sherry, her favourite post-dinner drink on a Friday night. Nora tucked the blanket over her knees, feeling the draft as the weather got colder, even though there was a cheery fire burning in the fireplace.

"What's on your mind darling? You're looking very pensive. Well, more than usual," her grandmother said, chuckling at her own comment.

"I'm still deciding whether I want to help out Rafe." Nora had already filled in her grandma about Rafe's offer over dinner. Joyce had more questions than a detainee interrogation group.

Is he good-looking? Where is he from? Why is he here? Football? Oh wow, an athlete! Does he have a six-pack? Does he have an Italian accent? What part of Italy? What other languages does he speak? Does she like him? Does he like her? We should go on holiday to Italy, what part does he come from?

"Well let's see," her grandmother said, putting down her glass on the round oak table in front of the sofa. "A dashing young man asks you for help, willing to pay ridiculous money to get you to do the one thing you love doing. Studying. Yes, that is a hard one to decide, sweetheart."

"Boys like that come with drama. And if there's one thing I love about Berk and this school, is that there is no drama."

"Life is a drama, Nora. It's the genre we live in. You can't escape it."

Given the tumultuous events in the past with her parents' divorce and her dad's bankruptcy and Nora's own battles, her grandmother had a point about life being one big drama.

"What if I end up wasting my time? What if he's completely hopeless?"

"Well, you're already wasting it in that stationery shop. I don't see how that's any different," Joyce pointed out.

Nora pouted. What was people's problem with the stationery shop? It was cosy and neat and had all her favourite things in there. Some girls loved bags, some liked shoes. Nora's weakness was stationary. Her idea of heaven was a Muji store.

"I get a forty percent discount," Nora defended. "That's a huge deal for my stationary addiction."

"With the money Rafe will be paying you, you can buy pens and journals every day for the rest of your life sweetheart."

"If I tutor him," Nora went on, "I must be invested morally too. That's a lot of responsibility, getting the applications for uni ready and getting him ready for his exams. What if I can't do it? What if I let him down?"

"Well then, it'll be his fault for being such a silly tit. You don't come with a guarantee. But you do have a brilliant brain. If the teachers at school can't help him, and you can't help him, then only God can help him."

"Hmm maybe not even him," Nora muttered. "I came to this town to keep my head low. Rafe is the centre of attention."

Joyce sighed. "Nora, I understand at your age, things seem to be a bigger deal than they are. But as time goes on, you'll look back one day to this and I don't want you to regret things you haven't done. I don't want you hiding, sulking, and shutting everyone out. It's not the way to live."

"It doesn't seem so bad," Nora said, cuddling Luna, who finished her post-nap stretches and purred into her face for affection.

"Speaking of the past, didn't you two go to the same school back in London?"

Nora went still for a second. Nothing got past her grandmother.

"No... he was in our rival school but close to us."

Their attention went back to television. "Oh, what a dreamboat," her grandmother sighed. Nora scrunched up her nose.

"Simon Cowell? Really? He's such a bully."

"Hey, if girls are allowed to be obsessed with a stalking, walking, sparkling corpse that sucks blood to survive, I'm allowed to have fantasies about a successful media mogul whom I watch on TV."

"Edward is a vampire."

"Look at him. What a dreamboat. He's so... confident and bold."

Nora rolled her eyes. "Well, you'd like Rafe then."

"Bring him over darling," her grandmother replied with a wink.

Nora looked down at the piece of paper with his number scribbled and the crisp fifty-quid note. It was very bold of him to assume that she would agree and leave a downpayment like that. Nora had to admit this was a faster way to reach her savings goals.

Sometimes Nora had to deal with customers who'd bargain on the price of a notepad or demand a discount for all kinds of weird reasons. Being surrounded by stationary and organising the inventory was lovely, but dealing with all kinds of weirdos, frustrating tourists, shoplifters and cantankerous pensioners made her want to quit.

She weighed the pros and cons. A small voice inside her head screamed it was a bad idea.

She'd promised herself not to deal with people like Rafe anymore. Her plan was to keep her head down, stay out of trouble or drama, land a scholarship, move back to London, earn a degree and have a badass career. Tutoring a spoiled, rich, frustrating, good-looking boy was not part of her plans. Yet the kindness he showed by switching books and the desperation with which he asked her to tutor him was out of the character that Nora thought she had sussed.

And there was no job in this entire town that would pay that kind of money. She'd probably be out earning her own teachers.

"What do you think, Luna? Should I do it?"

Her feline friend perked up, stared off into space for a moment and ran off into the kitchen.

"Yes, I agree Luna, I should be running from him," Nora said, unlocking her phone.

Letting out a long sigh, she typed up Rafe's number along with a message:

Meet me at Daunt Books & Cafe tomorrow at 10 o'clock sharp. Bring your last year's grade

reports, essays you've done so far and all your books.