Authors: Helen de Witt
He broke off and hesitated, and he said: I think you said she didn’t tell you—that is, what did she say exactly?
I said: Well
He said: It doesn’t matter. You’ve a right to know. I owe you that much.
I thought: I’ve got to stop this
I said: No—
He said: No let me finish. This isn’t easy for me, but you’ve a right to know
I thought: I’ve got to stop this
but Sorabji had had so much practice on the programme stopping people who were trying to stop him that I did not know what to do.
I said:
No
. I said: You don’t have to tell me anything.
I said: I’m not really your son.
He said: God knows I deserve that. You’ve every right to be bitter.
I said: I’m not bitter, I’m just stating a
fact
.
He said: All right, a fact, but what about this— and he smacked the pages of Fourier analysis with his hand and said That’s a fact too, you can’t just walk away from it. The relationship’s there whether you like it or not. You know that as well as I do or you wouldn’t be here. Well you may as well know
all
the facts,
and he began striding up and down the room and talking very fast to keep me from trying to interrupt—
He said: My wife is a wonderful woman. A wonderful woman. She’s always done her part and God knows I entered the marriage with my eyes open. It was an arranged marriage—my father wanted to help out an old business associate, and also though he’d married out himself—perhaps because he’d married out himself—he wanted me to marry a Zoroastrian and for one reason or another he hadn’t seen anyone suitable here. I don’t mean there was any pressure, don’t get the wrong idea about this, my father realised I’d been brought up to be thoroughly Westernised. He just asked me to meet her, he said she was a beautiful girl, well educated, delightful personality, of course if I didn’t like her there was no more to be said but it wouldn’t hurt to meet the girl, he’d pay all my expenses to fly out to Bombay and we could just take it from there.
Well, of course we didn’t fall in love at first sight but we got on pretty well, all things considered; and I realised if I went ahead with it I could count on my family 100% in my career which frankly was the only thing I really cared about, and all in all I think it worked out pretty well. There’s something to be said for it, you go into it with your eyes open.
He put up a hand to keep me from interrupting and he said—but then in the early 80s I went to a conference in Hawaii on infrared. That’s where I met her. She gave a paper; one thing led to another; before we knew it we were head over heels in love. She was—I don’t know what she’s like now, but when I first saw her I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life. She took my breath away. It sounds trite but it’s just a description of fact, it was like being kicked in the stomach. One of those things you don’t believe until it’s happened to you. And she was brilliant too, had some amazing insights for someone her age; I’d never imagined what it would be like to be with someone you could talk to without thinking about how to explain it.
He was silent for a moment. Before I could think of a way to take advantage of this he was talking again.
He said: It was hell to go back to London but I did it somehow. She went back to Australia. We kept meeting at conferences for the next few years. Finally I said things can’t go on like this. I didn’t want to hurt my wife but things couldn’t go on. Colossus was about three years behind schedule but it really did look as thought it would go up in another four maybe five years, I said as soon as Colossus was in orbit I’d ask Firoza for a divorce, she could come to England if she liked, it wouldn’t be hard to find her something, or I’d start looking for something in Australia, she said she was pregnant and I said What do you want to do.
He said: She just kept looking at me. I said What do you want me to do? She started to cry—it was dreadful to see her like that. I said What do you think I can do? You must be aware of the implications. I said—these things torment you later but at the time I had a terror of being swept along, of not thinking clearly—I said What is your estimate of our fossil fuel reserves? What kind of science do you think people will be able to do without petroleum by-products? How much longer do you think people will be able to do the kind of science we do? Can we be sure they will be so brilliant they will be able to do what we do without petroleum by-products?
I must have been in a state of shock myself, I realised that later, but at the time it seemed desperately important to get her to make some kind of statement about fossil fuel reserves, it used to come back to me later. It would have come to the same thing in the end, but why wasn’t I kinder? I could have comforted her and instead I kept going on and on at the poor girl about petroleum by-products—it seemed desperately important that one of us should keep a clear head. She just kept crying. But what could I do? Colossus was at a stage where I couldn’t possibly go through the disruption of a divorce—and anyway the financial parameters were impossible. Academic salaries in this country being what they are I couldn’t possibly support two families—well, I’d had some offers from the States over the years, I might have swung it financially but the disruption of switching institutions, not to mention countries, there was simply nothing I could do.
She kept crying and looking at me. She said George—I said Why are you looking at me like that? Did I make the world? Am I a magician? Do you think I like this?
I said What do you think I can do?
She stopped crying and she said maybe she could manage something but I couldn’t let her do that. She was so brilliant and she’d worked so hard—grown up in the Outback and saved up money herding sheep or knitting or some such thing to send off for her first telescope—I couldn’t let her throw it all away. She’d only just got her lectureship, so she’d no entitlement to maternity leave—I said You’ve got to be practical, what are you going to do, go back to the sheep? Spend your life spotting comets?
She said all right, she would deal with it. She asked me for some money. There was nothing I could do. Anyway I didn’t hear from her after that but of course I could see that she continued to be productive in the field and her career was going ahead full tilt, so I naturally assumed … I thought maybe one day she’d put in a proposal for some of the unscheduled time on Colossus and I could help push that through the unscheduled time being at such a premium, but in the event she did all her work through other observational facilities so nothing came of it.
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?
If it didn’t work out I could always go to Cambridge at 13 instead. It might work out. At least it would be better than another winter on the Circle Line.
He was looking at me sympathetically.
I said: I don’t know.
I thought: Why wouldn’t it be right not to tell him? Sibylla would be happy. He’d be happy. He’s obviously been going around for years feeling guilty because there was nothing he could do, and now there’s something he can do. What’s wrong with letting him think there’s something he can do?
The phone rang.
He gave me a sort of rueful is-there-no-end-to-it smile. He said: I won’t be a moment.
He went to the desk and picked up the phone. He said: Sorabji!
He said: Yes, what seems to be the problem?
There was a long pause.
He said: I couldn’t agree with you more, Roy, but what do you imagine I can do about it? I’m not even on the committee—
There was another pause.
He said: I’d be only too delighted to help if there were anything I could usefully do, but I really don’t see any way round it—
There was another pause.
He said: That’s a very interesting suggestion.
He said: It would certainly be unorthodox, but that’s not to say—
He said: Look, Roy, could I call you tomorrow? I’m in the middle of something right now. I don’t want to raise false hopes, but let’s not rule out any possibilities.
He said: Good. Yes. Thanks for calling.
I kept looking at him. I couldn’t work out what was going on. I couldn’t work out what had been going on with Dr. Miller, and I couldn’t work out what had been going on with the Australian astronomer; I couldn’t even really work out what was going on with his three children and the pages of problems. All the relevant evidence did not seem to be available; I could not see any way of getting all the relevant evidence. Based on the evidence available, the last person I would ask for further relevant evidence was Sorabji.