out his bullshit. It wasn’t that Horace was arrogant.
He was breezily comfortable with his own limitations
and didn’t regard them as any impediment to his
progress through life.
“How do you spell soliloquy?” He shifted the
keyboard towards me. I swear, in that moment I was
only planning to type the word in question. But once
my hands hit the keys, something took over me. Why
would we finish the essay any other way, when here it
was, at my fingertips? It flowed out of me like a
symphony. If only I’d known that the answer to all
those school essays I’d tortured myself over was to
leave the hard part to a paid professional. I wish I could
say I felt more guilty. I might easily be helping tip
Horace’s grade above that of someone who had made
a more honest effort. But all I could think about was
keeping the client happy.NEW JOB ALERT
Subject Study skills
Who Felix, nine, is falling behind in class, especially
when it comes to writing. He needs a study buddy with
a firm hand to get him back on track
Where Highgate
When After school, as neededWednesday, January 14, Highgate
Felix was short and skinny for his age, with an air of
studied nonchalance. “Right, Felix,” I said. “What
homework have you got?” I was inclined to crack some
jokes, but the job description had requested a firm
hand, so it felt important to establish some discipline.
Felix showed me his homework sheet.
“Excellent,” I said. “Describe your dream school trip.”
“Hogwarts.”
“I think it’s meant to be somewhere real.”
“The moon.”
I held Felix’s gaze. It was impossible to tell if he was
being dumb or deliberately perverse, but I strongly
suspected the latter. Time to apply that firm hand.
“Maybe it’s best if you read the question yourself.”
Felix looked at me as if I had dared suggest he do his
own laundry. He picked up his book and threw it across
the room.
This was a test, wasn’t it? I was probably the fifth
tutor Felix had pulled this trick on and if I didn’t put
a lid on this behaviour they would be advertising for
a sixth by the end of the day.Tuesday, March 24, Highgate
“Felix has exams next term,” said George, his father,
“so are you free to help him revise over Easter?”
“Definitely!” My response was a bit overeager. I had
just about pulled together a weekly timetable I could
afford to live off, but had not yet accounted for the fact
that my earnings dropped to nothing whenever a
school holiday came around.
“Excellent,” said Beatriz, Felix’s mother. “Do you ski?”Saturday, April 4, St Moritz
“Come inside,” Beatriz said, ushering me into their
chalet. “You’re just in time for breakfast.” She led me
up a stairwell to a huge open-plan living room with
wooden beams that you could smell. I wondered if
timber really retained its scent that vividly or if a
housekeeper went round spraying it out of a bottle.
Felix and his father were seated at a long dining table,
while Theo, his younger brother, sat playing in thecorner with his nanny, operating as they did as a sort of
satellite unit to the rest of the family.
But there was someone else present — a bearded
man in his thirties who was overseeing breakfast. He
introduced himself as Curtis and asked how my journey
had been. But it was only a prelude to the one thing he
really wanted to know.
“How do you like your eggs? Scrambled? Benedict?
Hemingway?”
Only a real prat would claim to like their
eggs Hemingway.
“Hemingway,” I said.
I had no idea what I had ordered.
Moments later Curtis placed some eggs in
front of me featuring nothing more exciting
than a bit of smoked salmon.
“How good are Curtis’s eggs?” Beatriz
asked before my first mouthful was past my
tonsils. “Aren’t they the best? Curtis once
made the most amazing frittata on our yacht
in Capri.”
After breakfast Felix asked if I was coming
skiing. “Oh no,” I said hurriedly. “I don’t ski.”
Beatriz reacted as if I had said I don’t bother
with lavatory paper. George looked up from
his paper in irritation. “Have we sorted out
when Felix is going to study?” After
elaborate discussions it was decided that
lessons would have to take place after Felix
had been skiing all day.
It is hard to imagine a worse time to teach
than after skiing. Even without having ever
done it myself, I could tell that Felix got in
from the slopes feeling shattered as a day’s worth
of adrenaline highs came crashing down
simultaneously. Still, we settled into a routine. I spent
the day focusing on my master plan: writing a script.
Then, at 3pm, I’d try to tutor an exhausted and
uninterested child.
On our final day we took a car to the airport. I had
heard George calling someone to book our flights and
asking them to “see if they have any PJs”. It was an odd
request but maybe pyjamas were part of the service
when you flew first class. As we arrived at whatHorace was breezily comfortable
with his own limitations and didn’t
regard them as any impediment
to his progress through life
Right: Hogwarts,
the dream field tripPREVIOUS PAGES: CHARLIE SURBEY FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES MAGAZINE, IMAGE MANIPULATION BY PETER CROWTHER. THESE PAGES: GETTY IMAGES,
ALAMY, UNIVERSAL ORLANDO
The Sunday Times Magazine • 29