An English Boy in New York (18 page)

‘That's if we don't overrun,' the stage manager said half to herself and checking her watch. ‘We may have to bump the contortionist to tomorrow.'

‘She won't mind,' I said. ‘I understand she's quite flexible.'

The floor manager ignored my brilliant joke.

‘Talk about a sense of humour bypass,' I said as she walked off.

‘Well, I think you're funny, Ben,' Brandi said, laying a hand on my arm and giving me a flash of those amazing teeth. ‘Honestly.'

‘Thanks, Brandi.'

‘Can I get you anything?' she asked.

‘I am a bit thirsty,' I said, smacking my lips, which felt rubbery.

Brandi went off to get me a Coke. While she was gone, my alarm went off. Time to phone Ms Gunter. I needed to keep it straight. I was dimly aware I was being a bit more  …  talkative than I usually would be.

‘Hi, Ben,' she said. ‘Nice suit.'

‘Thanks,' I said.

‘How did it go last night? Gex keep you out of trouble?'

‘You bet.' I grinned. For someone who hates lying I certainly do a lot of it. Maybe Megan's right about me. I'm pathological. But sometimes you just have to lie, don't you? For the greater good.

‘Where are you?' she asked, peering into the camera.

‘I'm in a TV studio,' I said. ‘I'm going to be on the Donovan show.'

‘Never heard of it,' she said.

‘I think it's the equivalent of
The One Show
,' I said. ‘But they told me twelve million people watch it. That can't be right, can it?'

‘Everything's bigger in the States,' Ms Gunter said.

‘It sure is,' I said.

‘Are you OK?'

‘What's wrong. Do I look ill?'

‘No, in fact, you're looking very well,' Ms Gunter said.

Well? What did she mean by that? Was she calling me fat?

‘It might be this BlackBerry camera,' I said. ‘It's quite distorting.'

‘Yes, that's probably it,' she said.

‘Ben, Ben!' the floor manager called. ‘You're on in five!'

‘I gotta go,' I said.

‘Look, Ben,' Ms Gunter said. ‘Keep an eye on Gex, OK? And if he's getting into trouble, then stay right away from him. You can't afford to let him drag you down, got it?'

‘Yeah, I got it,' I said impatiently, looking towards the floor manager, who was waving me on. If I didn't hurry they'd send the damn contortionist on ahead of me and I wasn't having that. I could sense her watching me, her head twisted round like an owl's. Call me paranoid, but I did not trust that contortionist one bit.

‘Ben!' Ms Gunter snapped. I looked back at her, trying to concentrate. ‘I've taken a professional risk getting you into the US,' she said. ‘Don't screw up.'

‘I won't,' I assured her.

‘Break a leg,' she said.

I turned the screen off and ran towards the stage, just as the contortionist had begun unfolding herself.

It was just as well I was so rushed because I hadn't had time to get nervous. Brandi gave me a squeeze on the arm as I went past and I was through a curtain and up onto a bright, hot stage. Jingly-jangly music played and a smallish studio audience clapped enthusiastically as I walked across the carpet, trying not to trip on the coiled cables.

Piper Donovan stood to greet me and crushed my hand with one of his meaty paws, bringing tears to my eyes.

‘Ben Fletcher, welcome to America,' Donovan began.

‘Thank you very much,' I said, bowing slightly.

‘What do you think of New York?' Donovan asked.

I knew the answer to this one. ‘New York is the greatest city on earth,' I said. The audience whooped and cheered. I had them on side immediately.

‘So, you're a knitter, Ben?'

‘That's right, Piper,' I replied. I knew what the next question would be. Something about it being unusual for a boy to knit, etc. etc. I had my answer all prepared.

‘And you can knit faster than a machine?' he asked.

‘That's right, I said. ‘Knitting used to be a male  …  sorry, what was your question?'

‘It says on my card here that you can knit faster than a machine.'

I glanced across to see Brandi standing in the wings, next to the yawning floor manager. Brandi nodded and mouthed ‘yes' at me. What should I say? The studio swam, the audience was silent and expectant, and I felt hot and cold at the same time.

No, I thought. No, I can't knit faster than a machine.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Yes, I can knit faster than a machine.'

‘Really?' Donovan asked, grinning.

‘You bet!' I said.

A lone woman whooped at the back, perhaps assuming that everyone else would be joining in.

‘I thought I told you to wait in the car,' I shouted at the lone whooper. Everyone screamed with laughter. Suddenly I had the crowd right where I wanted them. I felt triumphant already!

‘And this is going to happen this Sunday at KnitFair USA? Is that right?' Donovan asked.

‘You bet,' I said again, ‘I'm going to be there. And the machine's going to be there. And we're going to go head to head.'

‘And you're going to win?'

‘Oh yeah!' I said.

‘But this is the KnitMaster 3000 you're up against,' Donovan said, reading from his card. ‘This is the newest, fastest knitting machine on the planet.'

‘You haven't seen me knit,' I said.

‘Well, we do have some video footage,' Donovan said. ‘Do you want to see Ben knit?' he called to the audience. They knew their role and screamed their approval. A large monitor flicked into life and I saw the YouTube video of me from the final of the AUKKC. There I was, my fingers a blur, the Hoopie taking shape, a goat wandering in the background.

‘Wow,' Donovan said as the video ended and the crowd clapped obediently. ‘You ARE fast.'

I winked. ‘I'm the fastest,' I said. More cheers.

Donovan put his fingers to his ear and held up a hand for quiet. ‘Now, we've got Dr Kovac from KnitCorp on the line. Dr Kovac.'

I looked up to see the man who'd been pictured in the
New York Times
article. He smiled and nodded quickly. ‘Good evening, Mr Donovan,' he said.

‘Now, Dr Kovac, your company, KnitCorp, manufactures the KnitMaster 3000, is that right?'

‘That's correct, Mr Donovan,' Dr Kovac said with a small nod.

‘Ben here tells us he can knit faster than your machine. Do you think that's possible?'

‘Absolutely not,' Dr Kovac said. ‘The KnitMaster 3000 can knit a thousand rows per hour, without making any mistakes. A human, even a human as fast as young Ben here, could not hope to do more than forty or fifty.'

‘Ben?'

‘Well, we'll see about that,' I said insanely.

‘Also, garments knitted by humans will have mistakes,' Dr Kovac went on. ‘A sweater knitted by machine will be perfect, every time.'

I couldn't help myself. ‘Well, Mr  …  Dr  …  Kevorkian, maybe people don't
want
perfection,' I said.. ‘Maybe people like to find the occasional flaw in their sweater. Maybe people like having a hole in their sock.'

‘If so, then this can be programmed into the pattern,' Dr Kovac droned. ‘And my name is Kovac, not Kevorkian.'

‘People don't want programming,' I said. ‘People don't want mass-produced. People want character, originality, uniquen  … 
inity
!'

The crowd was on its collective feet by now whooping and cheering.

‘Well said,' muttered the man with the hole in his stomach.

Dr Kovac was shaking his head, a smug smile on his face. ‘I'm afraid retail sales figures don't agree with you there, Ben. People want to know what they're buying. They want their clothes well made, cheap and available quickly. Only machine-knitting can offer that reliability. Hand-knitting is a dying art.'

‘Actually,' interjected the man who was marrying the death-row prisoner. ‘Home crafting is on the rise. My fiancée makes and sells toilet roll covers on Etsy.'

The crowd clapped slightly less enthusiastically, perhaps not sure if they should be applauding a criminal.

‘She gives the money to an animal rescue charity,' he added. There was a roar.

‘I look forward to meeting you on Sunday, Ben,' Dr Kovac said when the noise had died down. ‘I admire your courage, but you cannot possibly win.'

‘We'll see about that Dr Kev  …  Kovac,' I replied coolly. ‘We'll see about that.'

The crowd went bananas and it took the floor manager ages to calm them down. I lapped it up, the glow of the Canadian paracetamol surging through my blood, the hackles on my neck raised. I was Katniss Everdeen being interviewed by that blue-haired bloke. Piper Donovan was on his feet applauding me. The man with the hole in his stomach stood, clutched his side with one hand and clapped me on the back with the other. Brandi was bouncing up and down in the wings, delirious with joy. All the while, a tiny voice of reason deep down within me was enquiring as to just what on earth I thought I was doing.

But the voice was easily ignored, and one thing was for sure.

There was no way that damned contortionist was getting on today.

‘Turn it off,' I groaned. ‘I can't bear it.'

We were sat in the hotel room watching a streamed recording of the Donovan show on Brandi's iPad. I was waving my hands around like a mentalist on screen, haranguing the poor Dr Kovac, playing to the audience. Gex howled with laughter.

‘You had them eating out of your hand,' Brandi said admiringly.

‘I was talking absolute rubbish!' I said. ‘And why didn't you tell me my trousers were tucked into my socks?'

‘I thought that was British style.'

‘Are those orthopaedic socks you're wearing?' Mum asked.

‘It's a long story,' I sighed. ‘No wonder the contortionist kept looking at me in the green room. I thought she was out to get me.'

I watched myself stand, basking in the audience's applause, face shiny, grinning like a maniac. I shook hands with everyone, acting like I'd just been nominated to run for president at the Democratic National Convention.

‘Well done, Ben,' Mum said, giving me a hug.

‘This calls for a celebration,' Brandi said, opening the fridge. She pulled a mini champagne out. ‘Anyone?'

I eyed Gex suspiciously and he shook his head.

‘I'm not sure I want champagne,' Mum said. ‘I could murder a cup of tea though. I wish we had a kettle.'

‘I wish we had Hobnobs,' I said.

‘What are Hobnobs?' Brandi asked. ‘'Cause I know a British supermarket in Brooklyn. You can get all kinds of British food there.'

‘Ooh, we could get proper tea,' Mum said.

‘Cadbury's Creme Eggs,' Dad suggested.

‘Chilli Pringles,' Gex added.

‘No,' I said. ‘We're here to experience life in New York. We eat Philly cheese, we go out for coffee, we have waffles and matzo balls an  … 

‘Wonton soup,' Dad said.

‘Er  …  exactly,' I replied.

‘Maybe I could go and check it out for all of us,' Gex began.

‘No,' I repeated. ‘No one is going to the British supermarket.'

‘All right, Ben, you've made your point,' said Mum.

‘Well, we have to celebrate,' Brandi said. ‘Let me take you all out for dinner.'

Mum and Dad looked at each other. ‘We have tickets to
Stomp
,' Mum said apologetically.

‘Well, thanks for inviting me,' I said. ‘I love
Stomp
.'

‘And Keith and I are going to a basketball game, innit,' Gex said.

‘Does no one ever think to invite me to anything?' I protested.

‘Well, I'm inviting you,' said Brandi with a sweet smile. ‘Just you and me for dinner. What do you say?'

I had just enough time before dinner with Brandi to catch up with the
Knitwits!
girls. Brandi gave me the address of where to meet her later and then I took the subway uptown to Alanna and Marie's hotel, which is a lot nicer than ours. There is a homeless guy out the front but he hardly smells at all and offered me no advice when I gave him a quarter.

‘So great to see you!' Alanna said.

‘We heard you on the radio,' Marie said.

‘You heard that?'

‘Yeah, and we saw you on TV,' Alanna said.

‘Oh.'

‘Yeah,' Alanna said. ‘Did you  …  really mean all that stuff.'

‘Hmm, not all of it,' I said, I think I must have been blushing. The girls were trying to hide their disapproval but it was clear they thought I'd been a bit of a numpty.

‘Well, I was sort of hoping I could use the podcast interview to clear the air,' I said.

‘I think that would be a great idea,' Marie said.

We ordered coffees in the lobby bar and found a quiet spot in the corner to record the interview.

‘So, Ben Fletcher,' Alanna said. ‘Here you are in the US of A. The Big Apple. How are you finding it?'

‘I love it here, Alanna,' I said. ‘It really is everything I'd expected and more.'

‘And you've caused quite a stir since you arrived,' Marie said. ‘You've been interviewed on the Piper Donovan Show, tell us about that.'

‘Ah yes,' I said, pausing briefly. ‘I  …  er  … ' I was suddenly tongue-tied.

‘You made some comments we can all agree with,' Alanna said, coaxing me.

‘Yes. I think I was right to suggest that hand-knitting had a bright future and that machine-knitting is not the only game in town,' I said. ‘But I also said some things that should probably not, when all's said and done, be taken too seriously.