“Absolutely. It turns out it wasn’t him that wasn’t right for schooling, it was just that the school wasn’t right for him…”

“Yes, but … Mr.…?”

“Call me … Cuthbert. I believe you’re Elaine, aren’t you?”

“Er, yes…” Miss James was completely and utterly flustered. “I do think we should talk about Marty’s attainment levels,” she said.

“Me too! The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination … guess who said that…?”

Miss James looked baffled.

“Einstein again…” Grandad looked at her once more. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page. He really has been doing well, and he’s turning into a fine young man thanks to you! And as we all know, you cannot judge a book by its cover or know how the worm will turn out until it grows up…”

“Er … I suppose not…”

“Well, I’m glad we all agree.”

Grandad had stood up by now. He turned a dashing smile on her.

“I’m so glad we met at last!” Then he gave her a long studied look and drew a deep, deep breath. “You really are an inspiration! Such an inspiration!” Then he turned and dragged Marty out with him. Miss James sat looking like she’d been in an accident with a charismatic steamroller.

Grandad and Marty picked up some french fries on the way home, and decided to swing by the allotment to check on the pumpkin. Grandad lit the fire and dragged his squeaky chair outside. Marty upended an old tree stump and sat down. They ate, watching the flames, their faces boiling hot and their backs freezing cold.

“Thanks for tonight,” Marty said.

Grandad smiled.

“It’s okay…”

They listened to the wood crackle in the flames for a moment.

“It’s true, you know … what I said about Einstein…”

Marty thought about this a moment.

“There’s nothing we can’t achieve if we can dream it…”

Marty still appeared doubtful. Grandad looked at him. “So, you want to know what the big plan is?”

Marty looked up. Grandad had shuffled to the end of his chair.

“Are you actually going to tell me?”

“I think it’s time…,” Grandad said, his eyes suddenly becoming animated. He leaned closer to Marty. Looked around. Made sure there was no one listening. Not that there was anyone on the allotments at this time of night except for a few owls.

“What are we going to do, Grandad?”

Grandad paused dramatically, fixed Marty with a wonderful smile, and said …

“We’re going to Paris…”

“What?!” exclaimed Marty. “You won the lottery or something?!”

“Nope! It’s an absolutely delicious plan, Marty! We’re not going by plane…”

“Sorry, Grandad, I don’t get it…”

Grandad took his time, enjoying the expressions on Marty’s face.