Mrs Black first noticed it on the way home from school. She’d just rounded the corner into her street, when old Mr Green shuffled past. Mrs Black, her arms weighted down by the box of maths books she was carrying, nodded to Mr Green.
“Lovely day, isn’t it!” she began loudly. Mr Green was a bit deaf. He gave her a puzzled look, and Mrs Black jumped. The words had come out all wrong. They had sounded more like “Take away fifty-six.”
Mrs Black tried again. “Nice time for a walk!” she bellowed.
Mr Green frowned and adjusted his hearing aid. “Five times four what?”
Mrs Black felt a hot embarrassment creep up her neck. She tried to smile, and shrugged her shoulders in a “never mind” sort of way. The box of books tilted dangerously. Mr Green muttered to himself and shuffled on.
“Circle paper,” she called, and the hot sweaty feeling turned to a cold shiver. She’d wanted to say, “See you later.”
Mrs Black coughed to clear her throat. Maybe she was coming down with the flu.
She reached her gate as the paper girl cycled up. Mrs Black listened for the girl’s proud cry of, “Here is your newspaper girl!” but the words she heard were: “Equal to part of the whole!”
Mrs Black shook her head. It didn’t help. There was an ominous pattering in her ears like the distant tread of numbers, and her tongue felt thick and heavy. She unlatched the gate and walked up the path.
Mr Black opened the door and smiled. “Thirty metre rule?” he asked.
Mrs Black nodded. It was, indeed, thirsty work at school, and she supposed that’s what he had said. The marching thump of numbers echoed through her head.
She dropped the box of books on the floor and wilted into a chair. Mr Black brought in a pot of tea and teacups on a tray. He opened his mouth to speak.
Mrs Black flapped her hands in agitation. She tried to say, “Something’s upset me.”
“Subtract sixty-three?” repeated Mr Black.
Mrs Black shook her head. She wasn’t feeling at all well. “Arithmetic,” she said miserably, rubbing her stomach.
She pointed to a cup of tea and said, “Divide by three.” A shiny tear trickled down her cheek.
Mr Black picked up the cup and looked at it. “Subtract sixty-three, arithmetic, divide by three,” he muttered. He leaned forward and peered into Mrs Black’s eyes. Then he checked her tongue.
“Mmmm-ha,” said Mr Black. He reached into the box of maths books, took out a pencil and pad, and wrote: I THINK YOU ARE HAVING A MATHS ATTACK. He shook Mrs Black’s shoulder and showed her what he’d written.
Mrs Black raised one eyebrow. It sank again to join the drooping lines on her face.
Mr Black wrote: YOU NEED SHOCK TREATMENT.
Mrs Black’s eyes opened wide and she shook her head, but Mr Black took a deep breath.
“Addition!” he shouted.
Mrs Black sprang to attention, in a sitting position.
“Thirty-three plus twenty-five,” cried Mr Black.
“Fifty-eight!” she answered.
“Multiply! Four times twelve!” Mr Black commanded.
Mrs Black saluted and snapped out, “Forty-eight!” and smiled.
“Division!” ordered Mr Black. “Eighteen by three.”
Mrs Black began to laugh. “The answer’s six!” she giggled.
Mr Black narrowed his eyes and summoned up a line of numbers: “Nineteen minus three plus seventeen minus eight?”
Mrs Black struck them down. “Twenty-five!” she cried.
“How are you feeling now?” he asked.
“Fine!” his wife replied. “I really do feel great.”
“I think you’re cured,” said Mr Black. “Now drink your tea.”
“Tea!” groaned Mrs Black. “I forgot to get anything for dinner!”
“You need a rest,” said Mr Black. “I’ll get dinner.”
“Ahh,” said Mrs Black. “That would be nice. What are we having?”
Mr Black disappeared into the kitchen and returned looking thoughtful. “What would you say,” he said, “to a circle of pizza, divided into eight equivalent parts? Add to that — lettuce leaves, quartered tomatoes and triangles of toast, followed by a rectangle of ice-cream dotted with spheres of hundreds and thousands?”
Mrs Black stretched back in her chair and smiled contentedly. “I’d give it ten out of ten,” she said.
‘Mrs Black and the Maths Attack’ was first published by Random House New Zealand in 30 Weird & Wonderful New Zealand Stories in October 2003.