The doctor broke off and hummed a few bars.
'That was what it seemed. Hummed by a child one year old. I was curious enough to ask Mrs. Filler whether she had heard it on the wireless and learned that the family taste fancied variety, sports news and cinema organs almost exclusively. I remember thinking that even if the child had happened to hear a version on a cinema organ he showed astonishing tonal memory, and then for one reason or another I forgot the incident until later. Probably, I very reasonably told myself that I had made just a foolish mistake.
'I must have seen the child several times during the next two or three years, but I admit I've no recollection of doing so, for, as I said, he was too healthy to be really interesting, though I wish now I'd kept an eye on him. It was not until his boy was over four that Jim Filler came to see me one Monday evening and gave me an interest in the boy which I'm never likely to lose.
'Jim had cleaned up and polished off the quarry dust for the occasion. He seemed a bit uncertain of himself.
' "I don't want to waste your time, Doctor," he said, "but I would be grateful if you'd come, casual-like, and 'ave a look at our Ted sometime when me and the missus is there."
' "What's wrong with him?" I said.
'Jim fiddled his cap in his hands.
' "I don't know as there's owt wrong with 'im, exactly," he said. "It's—it's, well, 'e's a bit queer, some'ow, in a manner o' speakin'. It's got me and the missus fair worried an' all. She don't know as I've come 'ere. So if you could drop in kind of accidental like, you know―?"
" "But what's wrong with him?" I asked again. "Do you think he's backward; not up to the rest, or something like that?"
' "Nay, t'lad's bright enough that way. 'Taint nothin' o' that kind. Fact, some ways 'e's a bit too bright, that's a funny thing. 'E don't often talk like a nipper and many's the time I've 'eard 'im use words what I'm sure 'e ain't never 'eard from me and the missus. Understands what's said to 'im, too, better than any kid I know."
'I asked a few more questions, but Jim seemed to be holding back for some reason or other. If it had been another man I might have been short with him, but I knew Jim. His type is the incarnation of stubborn commonsense. In the end I got rid of him by promising to go round the next evening, though I didn't expect to find much amiss.'
Chapter Three
THE BOY WHO SAW SOUND
'Evidently Jim Filler had changed his mind and told his wife that I was coming, for she didn't seem surprised to see me. In honour of the occasion they took me into the front room, an apartment with a curious stage-set appearance, but I stopped Ada Filler as she was putting a match to the fire and suggested that we all went to the kitchen. We'd all feel more natural and less Sunday-best in there, as well as warmer.
'Even so, it wasn't easy to begin. Neither of them was anxious to come out plainly with the trouble. We had to exchange a number of ineffective sentences before Jim cut through it and became his usual forthright self again. He put on a dogged expression.
' "I know it'll sound daft, Doctor, but it's God's truth. Me and the missus's ready to swear to that, so if you'll 'ear me right through―?"
' "Go ahead and tell me. I'll ask questions afterwards," I assured him.
' "Well, this is 'ow it was. Saturday tea time we was all in 'ere waitin' for news on t'wireless so as I could check my coupons―" he began.
'It certainly was an odd tale that Jim had to tell.
'Mrs. Filler had been setting the table, while her husband and the two children waited for their tea. Jim had copies of his pool entries and a pencil ready to check them. At six o'clock he switched on to Droitwich. It meant that they'd have to listen to the weather forecast and a lot of political talk before the important stuff came along, but you could never be sure how long it would take to get the sports bulletin and it wasn't worth risking missing any of it. Well, he switched on all right and the dial lit up, but nothing came out of the speaker. He pressed the switch on and off a bit and looked at the outside connections. They were right enough.
' "Eeh-h-h, there's summat wrong wi't' bastard, there is, an' all," he decided.
'He turned the set round and took off the back. It looked all right, at least there was nothing obviously adrift. He scratched his head. It's not as easy to trace trouble in a modern mains set as it was in the old battery days. The insides look alarmingly efficient.
'It was then that young Ted took an interest.
' "What's oop with it, Dad?" he asked, coming closer.
' " 'Ow should I know?" inquired Jim, with irritation.
'Well, it was then that the strange thing happened. Jim said that young Ted had looked at him "sort of surprised like," then the child had pushed in between him and the set. He didn't look inside it, Jim said; he put his head down at it as if he were going to butt it, then he lifted his face again and looked at his father.
' "It's in there. That's where it stops," he said and pointed to a black object in the cabinet.
' "It were a transformer," Jim said. "An' 'e were right, too. Chap 'ad a look at it yesterday and one of the windin's was gone."
'Later, Jim had remembered another "funny thing."
'Several weeks previously he had been taking his son for a Sunday walk. They were on the Derby road where the grid lines run almost alongside when young Ted looked up at a pylon for no reason and said suddenly, "It's stopped."
'Jim couldn't make out what he was talking about and probably didn't care much, but he remembered that on the way back young Ted, equally without reason, had said, "It's going again, now."
'It wasn't until he got back that he learned there had been a breakdown somewhere which had put the grid out of action for half an hour or so.
'But he only recalled that afterwards. At the moment, he was chiefly concerned over the prospect of missing his football news.
' Now I'll 'ave to go and buy t'Football Special, when t'papers come in," he groused.
'Young Ted had made no immediate reply to that. He had sat silent for a while looking rather puzzled, then with the air of one who had considered the subject unsatisfactorily from all angles he said:
' "Why, Dad?"
' "Why, what?" asked Jim, whose mind had gone on.
' "Why'll you 'ave to get a paper?"
' "Because," explained Jim, patiently, "because we can't 'ave t'bloody wireless, that's why."
'There was a pause while young Ted took this in.
' 'D'you mean you can't 'ear what the man's sayin'?" he inquired.
' "Course that's what I mean. Ow d'you think any of us is goin' to 'ear owt now t'set's busted? You shut up, and eat your tea."
There was another pause.
' "I can," said young Ted thoughtfully.
' "You can what?"
' " 'Ear what 'e's sayin'."
'Jim transferred his gaze from his tripe to his son. He looked at him hard for some moments without speaking. He didn't want to turn on the lad for lying if it was only some childish make-believe game.
' "Well, tell us what t'chap is sayin', then," he invited.
'Young Ted did. "Brentford, one," he said. "Stoke City, nought. Derby County, nought. Birmingham, one. Everton, two...."
' "An' 'e were right," Jim went on, leaning forward. "I know 'e were right. I checked 'em up on my list as 'e said 'em, an' then I went out an' got t'paper to make sure. 'E were dead right, every time."
'Ada Filler went on as he stopped.
' "I never 'eard of nothin' like it. It don't seem natural. Do you think it's dangerous, Doctor?"