The startled teacher rushed over and helped Roger to his feet. The boy was more surprised than hurt, and although his left knee was slightly grazed, he was crying loudly, mainly through shock.
By the time Jenny turned round, Andrew and Natasha had disappeared. Once Roger had been sent to the school nurse to have iodine splashed liberally onto his minor graze, Jenny returned and tried to pull the concrete block back against the wall.
Using all her strength, she still found it a struggle, and gazed in amazement at it as she realised she had just witnessed paranormal activity. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Andrew who had been responsible, as his expression had displayed a mixture of hurt and concentration at the exact moment.
What would she do about it?
Jenny wasn’t sure, so for the moment, she decided to do nothing.
Over the next days and weeks she kept a close eye on Andrew, and several times she witnessed very subtle yet undoubtedly paranormal acts. Once, he was just out of reach of a paintbrush, but she saw the required item fly through the air the three feet that lay between them.
On another occasion, he was painting, and someone ran past and knocked his beaker of water over. He looked at the item, which had passed the point of no return, and it simply righted itself without a human hand touching it. Jenny was now certain that Andrew was a very unique boy.
One afternoon in November 1958, the children had gone home for the day and Jenny drove to the slightly secluded house where Andrew lived with his Grandparents.
It was a big old house, called ‘the Gables’, several miles outside the town in a wooded area, set back off the road to Henley-on-Thames. She parked the car on the drive and rang the doorbell.
A kindly looking lady with grey hair answered the door.
“Yes?”
“Hello, I’m Jenny Hutchins, I’m Andrew’s teacher. Would you be Andrew’s grandmother?”
“Yes dear. I’m Rhona Nash, is there a problem?”
“No, not really. I just wanted to have a few words about Andrew. Is he home?”
“Yes, he’s in the garden helping his grandfather rake up the leaves. That’s one of the real problems with living in a beech wood. Do come in. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“If you’re making one, but don’t make one specially,” Jenny said as she entered the house.
It was tastefully decorated in a pre-war style, if slightly faded now. A lot of antique furniture and quality paintings showed her that there was some money still in the family, if not enough to afford a private education for her grandson.
She was led through to the kitchen, and Rhona filled the kettle and placed it on the Aga.
“If you don’t mind sitting here while we wait for the kettle, otherwise we could go into the drawing room?”
“No, this is fine,” Jenny said, taking her coat off and sitting at the large kitchen table.
“We tend to live in here most of the time. Force of habit,” Rhona said, a little apologetically. “Now, what’s the matter with Andy?”
Jenny frowned, unsure as to how to progress this.
“Mrs Nash, this is going to seem a bit strange, but have you ever noticed anything odd about Andrew?”
“Odd? In what way?”
“I will be honest, I’ve seen things that I can’t explain, I don’t fully understand and I’m unsure exactly what to do about it. I saw Andrew move a large heavy object without touching it and, more recently, he seems to be able to move all kinds of things, even when he is nowhere near them,” Jenny said, feeling a real fool.
Rhona sighed, sitting down.
“Yes dear, I have seen them too. I did tell him not to, as no one else could do them, because someone would ask questions and probably end up taking him away to do tests.”
“When did you first notice something?”
“When he was very young. He was still in a high-sided cot, and he would manage to acquire a drink or food when there was none near his cot. I once saw his favourite teddy fall from the cot, and before I could go and retrieve it, it seemed to fly back to his bed all by itself.”
Rhona made the tea. Then the two women exchanged experiences for several minutes, so Jenny was now convinced that Andrew was an exceptionally gifted boy.
“He is very bright. He’s nearly a full two years ahead of his peers, and yet he rarely opens his mouth in class,” Jenny said.
“Ideally, I should like to send him to a private school, but we just can’t afford it. Geoffrey is retired, and his pension is enough to keep us, but there is very little room for extras,” Rhona said.
“To be honest, I don’t know if that would help him any. Most private schools are boarding schools, and I don’t actually believe he would thrive in an environment like that,” Jenny observed.
“Maybe you’re right. I certainly don’t want him to go away. He is the only person who can get through to Geoffrey.”
Jenny frowned, so Rhona explained.
“My husband was in the trenches in the first war. He came home and we married. We lost our son when he was very small, but we managed to get over that. He settled down to his job in the Civil Service, but when Caroline died, he just seemed to withdraw and cut himself off from everyone, even me. Little Andrew is the only one whom he tolerates, and the little lad can bring the old boy almost back to where he used to be.”
They watched the pair out of the window. Both were smiling, and Jenny could not remember ever seeing Andrew smile in class.
“They look very happy,” she remarked.
Rhona smiled.
“Jenny, what do you intend to do with this information?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to know whether you were aware, and hoped that somehow we could work out what was best for Andrew. You see, I identify so much with him, as I lost both my parents too. I really don’t think it is healthy for him to display the gifts he has. At the moment I think I am the only person who knows, but if it gets out, then who knows what kind of circus would start?”
“Oh, I know. I’ve thought the same thing, but how does one tell a six year old about things like that?” Rhona asked.
It was getting dark outside, and Geoffrey and his little grandson returned to the house. They took off their coats and wellies and entered the kitchen.
Geoffrey looked suspiciously at Jenny until Rhona introduced her to him. Andrew smiled slightly and waited patiently for his grandmother to make him some tea.
She had been baking and cut him a small piece of gingerbread. He was very solemn and polite and he took the plate and napkin. He sat down carefully next to Jenny and ate his cake. Jenny was astounded as to how untypical of a six-year old he was.
Geoffrey was not good with visitors, so he politely nodded at Jenny and retired to his study.
“Andrew, Miss Hutchins is here to talk about your special things,” Rhona said.
The boy looked at Jenny, his large amber eyes seemed to penetrate deep into her soul.
“Andrew, you have shown me that you can do things that most people can’t do. Do you know what I mean?” Jenny asked.
The boy nodded.
“What can you do; can you tell me?” she asked.
“I can move things, I can talk to people without speaking, and I can change,” he replied, as if it was all so normal.
“You can change, what do you mean?”
Andrew finished his tea, and then he walked over to the dresser. On the dresser was a photograph of his mother when she had been much the same age. He picked it up and looked at it for a moment, and then he handed it to his grandmother, and closed his eyes.
To both women’s utter amazement, his facial features, and indeed his whole bearing altered very slowly and subtly, so in a few moments both women looked at an exact replica of the photograph. Andrew now looked exactly like his mother had at the same age.
“I can’t grow hair quickly. I’d need another few minutes to grow my hair the same length as her. But I could if you wanted to,” the little girl said, even her voice had changed.