Free Jessica's Ghost by Andrew Norriss Page A

was certain of one thing. The person responsible was Francis. She did not know how he had done it but, in her eyes, the boy from number forty-seven had the status of something close to a god.
    She told anyone and everyone the incredible story as often as she could. She told them how her daughter had refused point blank to go to school, how she met Francis and how within a day he had not only persuaded her to go to school, but to knuckle down to some work while she was there.
    ‘I’ve no idea how he did it,’ she would say in her booming voice, ‘and I’ve never dared to ask, but I’ll tellyou something. That is the most remarkable boy I’ve ever met. Absolutely. No question. The most remarkable boy.’
    She repeated the story as often as she could to anyone who would listen, which led to what was, in many ways, the strangest part of this story.

15
    ‘I had a phone call last night from someone called Angela Boyle,’ said Mrs Meredith at breakfast, ‘asking if you could help.’
    ‘Help with what?’ said Francis.
    ‘She’s got a son called Roland, who goes to St Saviour’s, but a month ago, he said he didn’t want to go any more. She was hoping you could make him change his mind.’
    ‘Me?’ said Francis. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
    ‘She wants you to talk to him. Like you did to Andi. I told her you’d call over some time this morning.’
    Francis sighed. One day, he thought, he must have a serious talk with his mother about boundaries.
    ‘You weren’t doing anything else, were you?’
    It was a Saturday, and Andi had gone to London to see her father, who was over from Kuwait for twenty-four hours. The fact that Francis had been planning a day of window shopping with Jessica was not something he could explain to his mother.
    ‘I don’t see how I can persuade someone I don’t know to go to school.’
    ‘All you have to do is talk to him.’ Mrs Meredith poured herself another cup of coffee. ‘They live in one of those big houses in Paterson Road. It won’t take you long to cycle there, and if it doesn’t work you can come straight home again. Think of it as your good deed for the day.’
    Reluctantly, Francis agreed.
    ‘Though the whole thing’s completely pointless,’ he told Jessica, when she appeared, half an hour later. ‘I mean, what can I say that would make a complete stranger decide to go back to school when he doesn’t want to?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Jessica, imagining herself into a pair of gloves and a cashmere scarf. ‘So it won’t take very long, will it?’
    In fact, it took longer than either of them had expected. To start with, Francis had a flat tyre, which took twenty minutes to change, and then he found the house was right at the far end of Paterson Road, which meant cycling almost another mile and a half. By the time he arrived, hot and sweating, he was not in the mood to help anybody, but he left his bike on the gravel in front of one of the largest houses he had ever seen, and rang the front door bell.
    ‘I’ll go in and take a look round,’ said Jessica. ‘See you in a minute, OK?’
    Francis nodded, and waited in the porch until Mrs Boyle answered the door. She was a small, worried looking woman, nervously twisting a handkerchief between her fingers.
    ‘This is so kind of you, Francis,’ she said, when he had introduced himself. ‘You’ve heard about Roland’s little problem, have you?’
    ‘Mum said he didn’t want to go to school.’
    ‘That’s right.’ Mrs Boyle blushed. ‘We’re not expecting miracles, of course, but if you could talk to him and findout what’s wrong. Maybe get him to …’ She hesitated. ‘Frieda Campion said you’d done these extraordinary things for her daughter and if you were able to do anything like that for Rollo …’
    ‘I’ll talk to him,’ said Francis, ‘but if he doesn’t want to go to school, I don’t think it’ll do any good.’
    ‘No. No, possibly not’ – Mrs Boyle’s handkerchief twisting