Chapter 4

Toby did do well at GCSE, nothing less than a B but an A* in Maths. He and his parents were thrilled. So was Allie.

“I’ll never get one but you’re really, really clever.”

“Rubbish but thank you, sweetie. I bet you get one as well.”

“Never! What in?”

“English?”

“Lit or Lang?”

“Either or both. Probably Lit.”

“Why Lit?”

“Because your vocabulary is so wide and your spelling so good that you are reading and enjoying literature that teenagers would appreciate. You’re way ahead of where I was at twelve or thirteen.”

Allie’s smile was beatific. Praise like that from Toby! Oh wow!

Toby’s parents were indeed thrilled but realised that he was going to have to make a choice and brought it up over supper one evening.

“Toby, old son, you’re going to have to make decision before the next school year starts,” said his father.

Toby looked questioningly at him.

“Music or maths.”

That stumped Toby and he did not reply immediately. Both parents respected his silence.

“Tricky,” he murmured at length. “I love both.”

His parents nodded.

“Couldn’t I keep them both going?”

“You seem to crack your homework including maths in an hour every day and you put in an hour on the piano plus two hours on Saturdays and Sundays,” said Nessa gently, “but if you’re going to get into the Royal Academy you’ll need to do at least four hours a day from really now on. You’re a very good pianist, better than Nell at two years older and she’s far from bad, but if you’re hoping to be a performer you’re going to have to put in the hours I’m talking about.”

“Teaching piano’s never really going to earn me much of a living, is it?”

“It depends. The way I do it it certainly wouldn’t but if you became a music teacher at a school you’d earn more but it would probably drive you mad teaching scales to eight year-olds.”

Toby grinned and nodded ruefully.

“Dead right,” he said. “All the same, I did enjoy teaching Allie but she was special to me and was so keen. I’ll bet the majority of the starters are there because of parental aspirations.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Nessa, “which is, apart from sons and their girlfriends (she winked), why I don’t accept anyone lower than Grade 4 which limits the field but then I’m not doing it as a living.”

“Hmm,” murmured Toby. “I love playing the piano. I love all music for that matter. What do you think, Dad?”

“Much the same as your mother, Toby,” replied Ned. “I’m no musician but I love music and I particularly love hearing your mother and you and Nell play the piano. You know too how much I enjoy orchestral and choral works.”

Toby nodded.

“But I think your mother’s right. Unless you virtually drop out of normal education and spend the next three years concentrating on the piano and a bit of choral work you’re never going to make the Royal Academy. Even if you did the competition to become a really high flying classical pianist earning oodles of money is intense.”

Toby nodded again.

There was silence as they let him think. It was not long.

“You clearly think I ought to concentrate on maths with the piano being for my own enjoyment.”

Both parents nodded.

“I’m not going to make a bomb teaching maths though and I’d get equally bored teaching eight year-olds addition and subtraction.”

Ned smiled. “There are a lot more opportunities for mathematicians than just teaching the subject. Chartered accountants can make a bomb. The IT industry is always keen to take on top class mathematicians. Aeronautics, space, research of all sorts, the City whether banking, insurance or whatever and then there’s teaching and research at universities.”

Toby thought but not for long.

“You both think I ought to concentrate on maths.”

“Yes, darling.”

Yes, Son.”

“OK. What you both say makes sense but I really, really love my piano. Can I give it some more thought?”

“Of course,” came the joint reply.

“You just need to have made up your mind by the beginning of next term,” said Ned.

“Yeah! Oh blimey!”

“Toby sweety, you’ve heard our views and we’re pushing you towards maths,” said Nessa gently, “but it’s your decision in the end. If you decide on the piano I shall give you all the help I can.”

“And you can leave school as soon as you’re sixteen,” added Ned, “so as to be able to concentrate on music.”

Toby nodded sombrely. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I love you both so much.”

He bit his lip and left the room.

Toby did not make an instant decision. He let the arguments drift round in his head. After all he had six weeks to the start of next term. On the other hand the arguments would quite often come to the forefront of his mind and quite often when he and Allie were walking Alf. She would be rattling on inconsequentially and his mind would wander. She was quick to notice but said nothing the first two or three times. Then her curiosity and her concern took over.

“Toby? Have I done something wrong?”

“What?”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No, Allie. Why do you ask?”

“You weren’t listening and talking to me like you usually do.”

“Oh, Allie, I’m sorry, sweety.”

She smiled happily. “It was just that you’ve done it a few times the last few days. Are you worried about something?”

Toby marvelled at her, the sensitivity and understanding of a little girl who was only ten.

“No, not worried but I’ve got to decide whether I become a mathematician or a musician.”

“Why can’t you do both?”

“Because to do either of them really well means more work on each of them than I’ll have time for.”