The Last Samurai

He said: You’ve got to understand. If it didn’t go up the chances were nothing like that ever would go up ever. I don’t just mean in 10 or 20 years but in the whole lifetime of the species. The resources would be gone and there would never be another chance to find these things out for the next 10,000 or 20,000 or however many hundreds of thousands of years there are people around to want to know.

He walked up and down. He said: It’s not something I did lightly but I could see she thought I should—Anyway I’m glad she found some way around it.

He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled.

He said: If she doesn’t know you’re here that makes things easier. I’m sure she had her reasons but you can’t go on this way, you really must mix with people your own age. I’ll get you an application form for Winchester; send it in and give me as a reference; you don’t have to tell her you’ve seen me, just wait till you’ve got the scholarship and present it as a fait accompli.

I said: How do you know I’ll get a scholarship?

He said: Why on earth shouldn’t you get a scholarship? Well if there’s a problem I expect I can drum up some sort of sponsorship but why should there be a problem?

I said: But isn’t there a waiting list or something?

He said: I daresay there may be but it’s completely beside the point. The fact that you think it could apply to you is, if I may say so, the best proof you could give that you don’t understand the first thing about the system. Look at it from the point of view of the school. A boy comes to them with a reference from a Nobel Laureate who says this could be the next Newton, and that of all the schools in the country theirs is the one he thinks could best foster these extraordinary talents. Not only do they have before them the long-term prospect of a guaranteed genius as a future alumnus of the school; in the short term they can count on someone who has not only won the Nobel Prize but has also appeared on TV to add lustre to really big school events. I could get you into any school in the country; if there’s one you think you’d like better by all means let me know, I don’t want to ride over you roughshod—I’ve simply picked one I think it wouldn’t drive you insane.

I tried to get excited about going to a school at the age of 12, but compared to going to Cambridge it did not seem a very interesting thing to do. I said: But what if I’ve already done everything?

He said: You’ll probably find you haven’t and anyway it won’t hurt to consolidate. Besides, it won’t hurt you to branch out. People expect scientists to be well-rounded; it won’t hurt you to put in some time on the humanities. You can pick up a language or two—that should stand you in good stead.

I tried to imagine explaining to Sibylla that I had won a scholarship to Winchester. I tried to imagine Sib not asking who had provided a reference. I tried to imagine Sib believing that Winchester had been impressed by a reference from my teacher at Bermondsey Boys Junior Judo.

He must have thought I didn’t like the idea of studying languages, because he said: I know how you feel, when you start out there’s just so much to know you can’t stand wasting time. But it can’t hurt to keep your options open at this stage. You can get some experience on the practical side—have you ever even been in a lab? No, I thought not.

I tried to imagine explaining to Sorabji that I was not his son in the genetic sense of the word.

Sorabji kept pacing up and down talking about the school. His eyes were flashing; he waved his hands; gradually he made it sound more and more attractive. It was not as exciting as going to the North Pole or galloping across the Mongolian steppe, but it seemed to be something that could definitely happen. He talked about the teachers at the school; he talked about boys at the school who would be friends for life. He seemed so happy and excited now that there was something he could do. I was beginning to think if we fought with real swords I would kill him; I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t his son because it was true.

Besides, why shouldn’t I go to the school?

I thought: What if there was some way to do it?

If he was right then I really could do it. I could get a scholarship and go to the school and if he ever found out about the trick it would be too late. They would not take the scholarship away just because he said to; they wouldn’t take it away if he said he only gave me the reference because he thought I was his son, and anyway how could he say that was why he gave me the reference? Sibylla would have more disposable income if I went; she could buy Schürer’s History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ, the brilliant four-volume update by Vermes and Millar which no home should be without. If I could persuade a Nobel Laureate that I was his longlost son surely I could persuade my own mother that I had got a scholarship to Winchester.

I thought: Why can’t I do that?