The door to the lobby once again, and Samantha saw a burly man, also dressed in a suit similar to Markus walk towards them. Mr Whiten.
~
Samantha couldn’t help but notice the slight difference in Mr Whiten as he smiled at her, offering her his hand, which she took. She thought it was the offset of his eyes, they too were very piercing. Samantha remembered clearly that the colour had been much more dilated when he had met her family the previous week, but she shook it off and smiled back. “Hello, Samantha, you’re just on time. If you’d please come in”.
Samantha nodded her head once, placing the newspaper clipping back into the pocket of her dress, in a way that she made sure no one noticed. Brushing her red pumps off the decorative mat, she made her way into the hall, taking everything in. It never ceased to surprise Samantha, the contrast in lives between the upper and lower class of modern English society. It made her think about how in school, she was always taught lessons of democracy and equality, but to see these houses in Knightsbridge made her want to brush everything off as irrelevant.
Markus, for reasons unknown to Samantha fell into step with her as she followed Mr Whiten through the hand crafted wooden doors leading to the large lobby. Blinking twice, Samantha struggled to conceive what her eyes were showing her. Surrounding the marble fireplace at the right side of the couch was a sitting room setting, complete with an expensive looking glass coffee table, a plasma television set by Sony, three long velvety beige couches with deep wine cushions, and a white loveseat. Scattered on the carpet – which itself was soft and plush – was a large fur cushion, a car magazine lying open in the middle. The carpet, a nondescript cream, stretched out to the crevices of the two doors along the back wall, on either end on the room, a large staircase looming in the centre. With its curved stature, it reminded Samantha of the pictures that married couples took on their big day. She could almost imagine the tall, elegant woman in the golden curls and crystal dress draping an arm over her perfect husband, an emblem of masculinity. Samantha twiddled with her fingers nervously once again, intimidated by the grace of the mansion, as opposed to the shack that she could now compare her own home to.
“You have a really beautiful house”, Samantha told Markus feeling compelled the fill the silence.
“It is, isn’t it?” Markus answered, but Samantha noted to hard edge to his tone. She wondered what she might have said to turn Markus’s stance into something tense. Placing a hand in her pocket, she felt the paper rub against her fingers.
“Ah, please take a seat Samantha”, Mr Whiten instructed, as he sat down at the edge of the couch alongside the television seat. “Oh, and Markus, you may be excused now”, he added with a wave of his hand. Samantha noticed that beside her, Markus hands had gone into fists. Without a word, her grabbed the magazine with a rough hand and trudged up the stairs, but not without sparing a backwards glance for Samantha, who was feeling even more nervous by the second. She reminded herself of the price – one hundred pounds. That was just around the same amount of money her father made every week. It was unquestionable the benefits Samantha’s job would bring to her family and to her Grandad of course. Scurrying, Samantha sat down quickly, adjacent to Mr Whiten. She smoothed her dress as she sat down, not wanting to crease her fabric. Her mother had spent the good part of an hour ironing it the previous night and Samantha felt guilty knowing that her movements would ruin her mother’s work.
“Don’t mind Markus, he always seems to be in a bad mood”, Mr Whiten brushed off, as if his son’s resentment towards him was not very obvious.
Samantha merely smiled again, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap. “It’s no problem”, she said not knowing what else to say. She knew that this life she was experiencing now was not something she would ever be comfortable in. The formalities seemed to be much too precise for her liking, and she was still struggling to come up with a reason for the family having dressed up in suits.
Mr Whiten raised his eyebrows, but did not make any comment. Instead, he decided to dive straight into matters. “That boy you met before was Michael, as you probably know. I’ll be sure to give you a copy of the curriculum at Hemshaw and some of the past papers so you can prepare him for his own exam in two months’ time.”
Samantha nodded at this information which was nothing new to her, but was slightly alarmed by his choice of words. “Will I be tutoring him in his home or...” Samantha was eager to know if she would have to stay in the same house that was causing her so much apprehension for any longer. Still, it was one hundred pounds, as her father had reminded her umpteen times. Yes Daddy, I know, Samantha replied each time. Her father, in response would grunt in approval and return to the newspaper he had already read over twice. Samantha wondered why he found reading the same stories so interesting, but he replied by saying it was a matter of interest. Samantha however concluded on her own accord that it was because he could find nothing else to entertain him in the evenings after he had come home from work, sitting at the fireplace in his soft, worn slippers.
Mr Whiten seemed slightly alarmed at Samantha’s suggested. “No, of course you will tutor him here, but there is something else I would like to discuss with you, but not in the company of your parents. Parents can be a little apprehensive to the compromise I have for you”.
Samantha leaned forward in her seat, clearly surprised. What was there to say that her parents would disagree with? Instinctively, Samantha lifted her eyes discretely, feeling a gaze fall upon her. Leaning on the balcony was Markus, heeding attention to each word his father was saying. Sights locking with Samantha, his hard expression softened slightly, and he winked. Samantha looked down again immediately, setting her gaze back on Mr Whiten, who did not seem to notice anything amiss.
“You see”, he continued, clasping his hands together firmly, “Michael isn’t one to be studious, hence the reason I looked for a tutor. That is why I do not think that having a study period for an hour daily will entice him to actually take the exam seriously, so I wish to ask you if you would consider living with us for the summer. In that way Michael will be in your sights for the entire time and he will actually sit down and do the papers, knowing that you will not leave once your time is up”.
Mr Whiten’s words seemed to jolt through Samantha. Living with the Whitens? Surely her father would not allow her – a sixteen year old, to live with an almost complete stranger, just for the sake of his son’s education? She had also found it strange how Mr Whiten chose to speak, clipped and stiff. She wondered for the reason of his tension, for his son’s tension, but she eluded herself into thinking that there was nothing wrong, even as the paper in her pocket crinkled when she crossed her legs.
Samantha raised her head to object to Mr Whiten’s offer, but he cut her off before she could voice her opinion. “Of course I would be willing to pay you two hundred dollars instead on one hundred, if that would enthral you enough to take the position I am offering you. Also, in debt, I would be willing to pay the fee for your sixth form at Hemshaw, if you wish”.
Before Samantha could review the case in her mind, Markus spoke up from the balcony. “Dad!” he said, not loud enough to be called a shout, but neither low enough to belong to a calm person. He pounded down the staircase, but the sigh from Mr Whiten was not something Samantha ignored. “You very well know you can’t offer that”.
Markus stopped before his father briefly, awaiting a reply. Mr Whiten stared up at his son, his eyes becoming even sharper. Samantha felt uncomfortable, watching the brawl between father and son. She wondered for Markus’s objection, even feeling a little hurt at his obvious opposition to the prospect of being in the same house for the summer. But she assured herself that there had to be some other, more appropriate cause.
“I’m only giving her a choice, Markus, the decision is hers”.
“Oh really, Dad? Her decision? Just like it’s our decision?” Markus spoke bitterly, making Samantha flinch.
Mr Whiten did not answer to his son’s claims confusing Samantha. She rubbed her clammy palms against her dress watching the pair carefully. It took her off guard when Markus reached out for her hand, pulling her up. “Come on, I’ll show you out”, he dragged Samantha out of the room, leaving her even more dumbfounded. She turned around to Mr Whiten, who, for some reason did not seem angry, but rather as if this was expected.
“Ask your parents, Samantha, and get them to call me – they have my phone number”, he called out just as Markus shut the oak doors behind them.
-
©Munni101
