Rhona went very pale and had to sit down. Andrew saw that this distressed her and changed back into his familiar self.
“When you do this, do you change everything?” Jenny asked, not knowing whether he would understand.
“You mean do I become a real girl down there?” he asked, pointing to his crotch. “Yes. I can become exactly whatever I want.”
“How did you find out you could do this?” Jenny asked.
“Grandpa was telling me about my dead uncle Mark, and how he often would wonder what he would have looked like had he lived, so I tried to imagine it, and made myself look like him.”
“You mean you now look like he would have looked like?”
The boy shook his head.
“No, Grandpa told me never to do it again. It hurt too much.”
“Can you do anyone, or is it just relatives?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only done Mummy and Uncle Mark.”
“Andrew, now listen carefully. It is very important that you never ever tell anyone about this. I won’t tell a soul, but you must never do this changing, or any other of your special things when people can see. They won’t understand, so when people don’t understand they react with fear and often do silly things that end up hurting others.”
“I know, Granny said that ages ago,” he said calmly.
Jenny smiled.
“Then why did you show me?” she asked.
“Because I read your mind, and I know you are a kind person, I’m not afraid of you,” he said.
Jenny was speechless.
When she could speak, it was almost a whisper.
“You, . . you read my mind?” she asked.
He nodded.
“What did you see?”
“You hurt like me and my grandparents. You lost those you loved and you are lonely like us. You think I am a nice boy and you want to help me. You are very frightened that if I use my gifts, someone will try to use me to gain power over other people, and that is wrong.”
Jenny’s mind was in a whirl. This was just too much, too quickly.
Then Andrew spoke again.
“That is a good idea, I think I should like that,” he said.
Rhona frowned.
Jenny’s mouth opened.
Andrew turned to his grandmother.
“Granny, Jenny wants us to both leave the school at the end of the term, and she will become my full time teacher. That way I will still be educated and there will be no risk that I will get into trouble until I can control my powers.”
Rhona looked at the younger woman in astonishment.
“I thought it. I never meant……” Jenny stammered.
“I never said she said it. It was an idea, and it would help, as I keep forgetting not to use my powers,” Andrew said. Even his speech pattern was far advanced for one so young.
“I will let you talk about it. I promise to try hard not to use my powers again at school,” Andrew said, leaving the two women alone.
CHAPTER TWO.
As it happened, it was not possible for things to happen like that. For a start, Jenny was not able to leave without giving more notice to the school, and so they agreed to wait until the end of the school year, at the end of the summer term.
Jenny was only twenty-four but had been left quite well off financially. She had inherited both her parents’ estates. Her elder brother had been a pilot in the RAF, and had been killed in 1943. She had drifted into teaching after Oxford, as she knew no one in England, and had no family that she knew of. She was still uncertain what to do with her life, but she did like working with children. She had had several boyfriends, but no one special, as most of the boys were after either a glamorous appendage or a wife.
Jenny was not plain, but she was not beautiful. Her mouth was rather too large, and she was not the slim model type that most men seem to yearn for.
She was a well-proportioned girl, with light brown hair, a generous bust and firm seat. She was not in the market for a husband; neither did she want to go to an endless series of parties with all the best people.
She had bought a small cottage on the outskirts of Wallingford, where she became quite settled. Her old contemporaries from university thought she was mad, but she actually preferred her own company. Andrew had been right, she was lonely, but she didn’t know what kind of man with whom she wanted to share her life.
Andrew kept his promise and never used any of his visible powers that she saw. She was aware that he could, and did, read people’s minds, and she began to realise that he also had the power of suggestion.
For on one occasion, Roger was bullying Natasha and Andrew came round the corner. Jenny was standing a little way off, and simply observed.
Roger was pulling Natasha’s pigtails. Suddenly, he let go as if burned, recoiled in terror, and ran screaming across the playground.
Jenny walked over to Andrew, who was trying to look innocent.
“All right, young man. What did you do?”
He opened his mouth to deny anything, then changed his mind and closed it again. He smiled.
“I made him see snakes instead of pigtails,” he said.
Jenny smiled. “Well, don’t do it again. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but you have to be careful,” she said.
Andrew simply nodded and smiled some more.
“It was very nice to watch,” Jenny admitted, and the little boy looked pleased.
Christmas came and went, and 1959 arrived. It was a cold winter, and the children went tobogganing on the Wittenham Clumps. Jenny was a frequent visitor to the Gables, and she was even persuaded to take young Andrew to try out the toboggan his grandfather had made.
Jenny had to admit to being absolutely intrigued by the boy and tried to understand why he was as gifted. Rhona had muttered about something to do with his parents being involved in secret war research, but knew very little else.
Spring arrived, and Andrew turned seven on the 5th March, and then it was a slow warming to summer. Jenny worked through her notice, and then set herself up as a certified home tutor, registering herself with the local department for education.
Geoffrey was by now not at all well. The winter had been unkind to him, and as he was nearly seventy, he was prone to colds and had caught influenza. Less active and more withdrawn than ever, it was a struggle for even Andrew to get him to respond in any way.
The main problem stemmed from when he had been gassed in the trenches of the first war. His respiratory system was vulnerable to all manner of infections, and he didn’t help the situation by continuing to smoke his pipe.
Jenny was at home when she received a phone call from Rhona in late August.
“It’s Geoffrey. He has been taken in to hospital in Oxford. He collapsed hardly able to breathe. Is it possible you could look after Andrew for me as I have to go in?”
“Of course, do you need a lift?”
“No, I can still drive,” Rhona said.
Jenny immediately packed a small overnight case and set off for the Nash home.
Rhona was clearly very worried, but she was organised enough to have a shepherd’s pie in the oven for young Andrew’s supper.
Jenny smiled at Andrew, who was sitting in his favourite window seat in the drawing room.
“He’s dying,” he said, his voice bland and devoid of emotion. It was a statement, and Jenny did not doubt the truth for a second.
Jenny just looked at him.
“He’s got something in his lungs. Cancer?” he said, questioning his information.
“Yes, it could be. How do you know?”
“I’ve seen it. It’s like a black cloud.”
Jenny stared at him.
“I don’t think I can get rid of it. I have tried very hard,” he said, and started to cry.