Tribute to Elegba... chapter four...

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Mrs. Olympia Rabbish, a strict young woman, had been working for many years as a speech teacher at a local St Paul’s boarding house on the edge of Riddlehill, and a few weeks earlier had taken the honorary post of principal, which she was very proud of. Without waiting for dawn, Olympia woke up before sunrise, took a cold shower, tucked her long, thin hair into a tight knot at the back of her head, dressed neatly and made an almost solemn walk through the corridors of the educational building, checking that everything was in order. This check lasted until the shift attendant came and gave the signal for the start of the school day. As soon as the corridors heard the voices of children and the doors of the study cabinets slamming, Olympia would go up to her office and began to work, thus keeping everything under control and avoiding contact with school staff and students. No, this woman did not suffer from arrogance. Simply, having become a principal, she chose the path of a hermit, as much as possible for the position, protecting herself from communication with employees and children. Therefore, from her point of view, it was easier to work calmly and create an indestructible image of the leader.

This morning, thank heavens, was no different from many previous ones. The principal could not stand all sorts of emergency situations that disturb the peace and regularity of events, but, of course, she could not predict everything in the world. It was the middle of the week. Olympia Rabbish was already comfortably seated at her desk and was looking through the week-old reports with incredible interest, as if it were some kind of exciting book with an adventure story and an unexpected ending. Several members of the Board of Trustees, who, by the way, had been providing legal and material support to the boarding house for many years, were supposed to visit the complex with a check the other day, and the principal was simply obliged to put everything in order in the documentation. In addition, a certain Mr. Stefan Jernigan, a specialist from London and an applicant for the vacancy of an English teacher, was supposed to arrive today. Unfortunately, this vacancy remained open for a long time, since it was incredibly difficult to find a person who wanted to teach orphans, and, to be honest, for a very small salary. Nevertheless, such a specialist was found by hook or by crook, although Olympia could not understand in any way what a teacher from a metropolis could find in this bearish corner at the end of the world.

At half past ten a thin girl of about fifteen with large thick-glass glasses and a mane of unruly curly hair on her head, knocked on the door, timidly reporting that an applicant named Stefan Jernigan was sitting in the waiting room, and the principal, putting the papers away on the table, ordered to invite a guest to the office.

A young guy, about twenty-five, hesitantly crossed the threshold, greeting quietly. His eyes ran from side to side, and his fingers tightly gripped an old shabby leatherette briefcase. Stefan Jernigan looked very simple, even slovenly and did not look like a resident of a big city at all. Unrefined, disheveled black hair, two-day-old stubble, old glasses wrapped with colorless duct tape. He was dressed in a worn gray jacket with leather patches at the elbows, a faded burgundy shirt and jeans. There was mud from the road on the boots, which once again indicated that the person claiming to be an English teacher was a total slob. Looking at the guest from head to toe, showing disapproval with his whole appearance, Olympia, however, politely invited him to sit on a wooden chair with a soft pillow, which stood against the wall. No matter how this awkward young man looked, he still had a higher education, which was more than enough to work with children in an orphanage.

“If it were not for the need to close this vacancy, I would have sent him away immediately!” Olympia thought, realizing that she still had to take a sloppy young man to work. “Yes, even the queen herself would vouch for him!” Of course, the Queen of England did not know that guy, but someone nevertheless put in a good word for Stefan and extremely strongly recommended that the new principal hire this talented, albeit slightly unsightly, guy. Stefan brought with him a letter of recommendation from Gregory Grantchester, who was the son of one of the oldest and most respected members of the Board of Trustees, thanks to whom the boarding house has remained afloat to this day. Also, Gregory Grantchester was a longtime childhood friend of Stefan 's. Of course, Olympia could not help but approve such recommendations, although she was skeptical about the letter, nevertheless she listened to the guy’s oral summary and even told a little about the boarding house itself, although, to be honest, she wanted the interview to last as little time as possible.

Olympia ordered to show the young specialist the school, the neighborhood, the library, the hospital building and the dormitory, after which she told him the work schedule for the next week. And this meant that there were four whole days ahead to get comfortable, settle down in a specially allocated room in the dormitory for teachers and collect their thoughts. It might have seemed that the principal was only making things worse, but she could not help but remind the young specialist of the probable difficulties in working with orphans.
In addition to English and linguistics, Stefan was a big fan of mysticism and fantasy. For several years now, he has been studying all kinds of literature about supernatural phenomena. Not too long ago he even visited the ancient Lip Castle in Ireland, known for its paranormal activities. Stefan never saw the ghosts there, but visiting such a iconic location was worth the time. Of course, many of Stefan's peers and people around him considered the youngster a crazy and infantile fanatic, and his hobbies and interests were useless, they said. However, the guy had already learned not to accept such judgments and just to do what he enjoys.

Walking around the neighborhood of the boarding house, Stefan watched how hard some of the children were studying, reading books and discussing classical literature. The stereotype that every orphans grow up as hooligans and troublemakers never fit in the mind of a newly minted teacher. Looking at how kind the eyes of these same children who do not know parental affection can be, Stefan could only imagine how important friendship can be for them and how pure their souls are. In addition, he simply loved children, although he himself did not even plan to marry and have his own offspring.

However, in the afternoon, Stefan witnessed a fight between two boys in the backyard of the academic building. He had to separate the juvenile instigators. After finding out the cause of the quarrel, Stefan was surprised to discover that, it turns out, you can get angry just because someone took your place in the dining room. These were the reasons for the discord between two local boys. Having reconciled the tomboys among themselves, Stefan gathered the children around him and for at least half an hour occupied them with an exciting story about ghosts in an old Irish castle. It was significant that they were not at all afraid of scary plot twists and vivid, frightening metaphors, but on the contrary, they wanted details and carefully absorbed every detail without missing a word. Thus Mr. Jernigan, the new English teacher, made his first friends at Riddlehill in the faces of restless children.

Toward evening, Stefan, having already managed to settle into his room in the teachers' dormitory and even after taking a nap for several hours, changed into clean clothes and, hurried outside, went outside the boarding house fence. Leaning against the iron pillar, Stefan crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoughtfully to the side, as if waiting for someone any minute. The sky was overcast and it looked like it was going to rain. But this did not frighten Stefan. He was here for a reason and had no intention of leaving.

Ten minutes later, the door of the educational building swung open and Olympia Rabbish hurried to the gate with a quick step. Wrapped up in a warm woolen coat, she quickly moved her feet, heading towards Stefan. It was already getting dark. A gusty wind picked up. Shivering from the cold, Olympia called her colleague by name. Mr. Jernigan looked towards the Headmaster with a slight smile. The cold also did not frighten the young teacher at all: he was dressed lightly and did not even pay attention to the decrease in air temperature.

"You've come," said Stefan, smiling.

"Of course I have! I said I would come! This is my duty as principal!" Olympia threw irritably, obviously unhappy with the need to be outside in such overcast weather. “Since you came to our boarding house, Mr. Jernigan, peace and serenity have somehow disappeared of their own accord. Now this. If it wasn't for the respect for good old Mr. Grantchester..."

“Enough grumbling, principal,” Stefan interrupted her, noting that this gloomy woman can sometimes look extremely funny, even in moments of her own displeasure. “Soon, at last, our dear Gregory will be here, and everything will be all right."

"I don't understand, what is all this for? Why is Mr. Grantchester’s son paying us a visit today? The fact that the purpose of his visit is kept secret from me puts me in a state of bewilderment and, frankly, annoys me!" the principal continued in the same tone, bent even more from the cold, as if some invisible vise had squeezed this woman.

“Something important has happened, Olympia,” Stefan said cryptically. “Otherwise, Gregory wouldn't have come from London so urgently. But he asked me and you to meet him, which means that this is important for the three of us. I have some guesses, but perhaps let's wait ..."

Olympia pursed her lips and said nothing more. Looking into the distance, the principal of the boarding house and the English teacher just kept waiting.

Ten minutes later, a light fog pierced the beam of car headlights and a car drove up to the gate of the boarding house, stopping right in front of the waiting couple. The door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared in front of them, wearing a long black overcoat with the collar turned up and an old-fashioned shabby hat. This was the long-awaited Gregory Grantchester, though his face remained half-hidden. Of course, Stefan recognized the childhood friend with no problem and immediately approached him with a hug.

"Old man!" Gregory said hotly. "We haven't seen each other for a long time. Mrs. Rabbish, good evening. Glad to see you in good health."

Olympia Rabbish evidently did not share the euphoria of these two crony friends and only cautiously nodded in response, dryly asking why all this fuss. Gregory Grantchester took off his hat and revealed a very young face. He appeared to be no more than twenty years old. Blue eyes, a slightly aquiline nose, thin lips and cheekbones: the young Grantchester was handsome, you can't argue with that. Even Olympia, who had already protected herself from all sorts of emotions and feelings for a long time, froze in a daze for a couple of seconds, looking at the young man. Gregory's voice did not match his appearance at all, but rather would have suited an adult, mature man. Mrs. Rabbish looked inquiringly at her guest again, trying not to show liking.

"I brought you a child. He will be raised and nurtured in your boarding house until he reaches adulthood. This is an official order from my father, chairman of the Board of Trustees."

Obviously, no one understood. Looking at Gregory in bewilderment, Stefan and Olympia waited for further clarification.

"His name is John. He is an orphan. The parents died. The baby was in the London maternity home for a few weeks, but it will now be in your boarding house, Principal."

"But, how... why? I can’t understand anything ..." Olympia muttered in confusion, finding her words with difficulty. “We can’t afford to take a newborn. We don't even have a nursery. Who will take care of the newborn baby, pray tell? First of all, we are an educational institution and a boarding school. I deeply respect your father, young man, but don't you understand: what you are asking for is not at all within the competence of the orphanage! And why should this particular child stay with us? Why not give it to some family that wants to adopt a boy? Explain yourself."

Deciding not to waste time any longer, Gregory opened the car door and pulled out a baby wrapped in a blanket. The child slept tight, wrapped in blanket, and as he gently opened the baby’s face, the guy walked slowly up to intrigued and even slightly frightened Olympia and then showed her the baby in question.

At that moment, covering her mouth with her hand, the principal staggered in horror and recoiled a few steps back, barely containing her emotions. There was indescribable fear in her eyes. Shaking her head negatively, Olympia leaned against the rusty iron column of the fence, took a breath and whispered:

"Blessed Virgin Mary… What is this…"

Gregory covered the baby's face with a blanket, taking the principal's reaction with restraint, as if he had not expected otherwise.

"Are you completely out of your mind, young man? We cannot accept a child like him. Do you even understand what you are doing right now?" Olympia retorted almost furiously. “You doom both us and the poor child to torment. It does not and will not have a place in the human world! And the stay in our institution of this child will turn into hell! What you are asking for is beyond common sense! Come to your senses!"

"I knew you'd react like that," Gregory sighed, handing the baby over to Stefan's arms, still silent. “Still, no matter what you think and whatever arguments you put forward against my father's request, the child will remain here one way or another. This baby's life is of the utmost importance, and it's fortunate that we found him before anyone could harm him. Here, at the boarding house, John will be safe. He will grow up under your supervision, receive primary and secondary education. And when he turns eighteen, I'll take him away. Do you understand the task, Mrs. Rabbish?"

The guy's voice took on a harsh and demanding tone, which made the principal of the boarding house probably feel extremely hurt. Closing her eyes, she took a breath. Well, she had no choice. Realizing that the child would grow up as an outcast, that his peers would offend him every day, Olympia, with incredible anxiety in her heart, obeyed the will of the young Mr. Grantchester and silently nodded, again looking at her frowning interlocutor.

Finally, it started to rain. Thunder rolled across the sky, heralding a storm. Stefan, casting a brief glance at his friend, carefully handed the child to Olympia, who, still looking at the bundle as if it were something vile and dirty, opened the baby's face again, trying to once again see the unusual child.

“Once again I want to emphasize how important the safety of this child is,” Gregory said. "Someday, after many years, John will learn the whole truth about himself and his extraordinary origin. Someday we will return him to where he will fulfill his destiny. Nevertheless, while the boy is growing, this truth must be hidden from him at all costs.

"What truth are you talking about?" Olympia said without taking her eyes off the baby. "Will I hear at least something today that will not cause a million questions?"

"Just do what you have to, Mrs. Rabbish. No more. The story connected with the birth of John is too confusing and long. If I start to understand it right now, I will confuse both you and myself. Not today. And not now."

Looking incredulously from Gregory to Stefan, Olympia sighed heavily and nodded. Well, what could she do: to obey the will of the people, one way or another connected with the Board of Trustees, was her direct duty.

"Here and now, Olympia. I want you to promise me that before John comes of age, you will take care of him like any other child living in your boarding house. You will give him the opportunity to learn and develop, like any normal child. And most importantly, listen carefully, this is important: do not let John go outside the complex. Never. I understand that I am now placing on you a great responsibility with which you will have to live for many years. But we have no other choice," Gregory said, stopped, took a breath, and pursed his lips, as if he did not find anything to add.

"Why do you need my promise if you leave me no choice?" Mrs. Rabbish snapped irritably, clearly wanting to end the unpleasant conversation as soon as possible. "I understand you. You made yourself very clear, Gregory! Everything will be as you said!"

The woman uttered these words in one breath, after which she withstood a short pause, trying to find the strength in herself not to give free rein to her emotions and pull herself together, and then she added with her cold straight tone:

“But, one way or another, realize that no matter how hard we try, no matter what conditions we put this child in, the boy will never become like ordinary children. And he will never become one of them. Never, Mr. Gregory Grantchester!"

"John does not need to become his own among ordinary children. But you can create a similar illusion."

The young man, without saying another word, stared at his indignant interlocutor for a couple of seconds, then put on his hat, turned on his heels and, shaking Stefan's hand in parting, quickly walked towards the car. Opening the car door, he looked back, taking one last look at the young principal of the boarding house with a baby in his arms, he paused a little, as if he wanted to say something else in the end, but eventually changed his mind and got into the car. The engine roared and the car moved along the road, leaving Stefan and Olympia Rabbish with the baby in their arms under a heavy overcast sky.

It was getting cold. Maintaining silence and relative calmness, the director, carefully holding the child in her hands, and the teacher entered the gate and locked it. Thunder boomed again - and heavy rain began, loudly pounding on the roofs of the buildings of the complex.

The child, however, slept soundly and did not even suspect what awaited him in a few years, how unsweetened life would be in a boarding school among his peers, and, most importantly, how unusual his fate would be many years later.

Time is an extraordinarily interesting thing: sometimes it stretches like infinity, and in the end it seems to be only a moment that flashed somewhere in the distance, finally throwing an ironic laugh. And just like that, sixteen years have passed since that rainy evening. Mr. Gregory Grantchester rarely visited the boarding house, perhaps a couple of times a year, because numerous business in the capital of England took away any opportunity to get out to Riddlehill and also because the man was generally satisfied with the work of Olympia Rabbish: the principal sent him weekly reports on John's condition and assured that the child lives quite normally, although he has a number of problems, however, typical of all adolescents. Gregory never met John himself, though he saw him a few times in the corner of his eye during the visits.  However, every time he came to the boarding house, he always found time to see an old friend Stefan. So today was no exception.

Trying to relieve the strain of an unpleasant conversation with Olympia, which deeply disappointed the man today, Gregory was on his way to the school building, hoping to find Stefan Jernigan there: at the height of the school day, probably, the English teacher had to be there. Fortunately, it was.

The teacher’s room looked unkempt and a bit gloomy, but today’s gloom has replaced the joy of meeting. Gregory greeted a friend reading the book, who suddenly jumped in the chair, and his fright immediately turned into a pleasant surprise, very close to euphoria. The men embraced each other tightly, laughing and exchanging enthusiastic comments.

"How many years have passed?" Stefan exclaimed in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I'm so glad to see you! Here you know how to surprise, sly one!"

At that moment, a middle-aged woman entered the staff room. It was the history teacher, Liana Grayson, a gloomy but harmless person. She looked in surprise at the two hugging men, as if she had noticed something out of the ordinary, took the folder with papers she needed from the shelf and hurriedly left the room.

"Don't pay attention," Stefan said simply, waving his hand. The locals are not spoiled by visitors. And over the years, we’ve been becoming wild, frankly. You could, by the way, come more often. When did we last see each other? A year ago, I think. Or not?"

"Do you know what happened to John?" Gregory suddenly changed the subject.
Stefan hummed. He looked at his friend suspiciously, as if he had suddenly received answers to all his questions and now did not know what to do with them now. Nevertheless, the English teacher shrugged his shoulders, making it clear to the guest that he did not have the information.

"I met him in the morning in the library. And then he went to class," Stefan muttered uncertainly, clearly suspecting that he had missed something. "Then what? Something happened?"

"Did you hear anything about the incident and the boy who fell out of the window?" Gregory kept asking.

"I heard," Stefan nodded. "A mysterious story, but it seems no one was hurt. What’s that got to do with John?"

Now Gregory hummed. He gave his friend the opportunity to understand everything himself. It didn't take long for Stefan to do this: his face lit up with understanding of what was happening, but it frightened him more than pleased.

"But he still has two more years to go. Really..."

The men sat at the teacher’s table, swamped with papers and raggedy books. Stefan quickly freed him from the rubbish, removing some of his belongings on a wide wooden windowsill, and placed two tin cups. The old electric kettle took a long time to heat the water, so Gregory, sitting on the creaky chair, briefly as possible, told a friend what had happened this morning. Of course, although John was hit by a car, but was not injured, Gregory was still furious that the boy was allowed to go outside the boarding house.

"God only knows what might have happened if I hadn't found him. Accident! Do you understand? We were saved by chance. No more!" the man exclaimed as he watched Stefan pour herbal tea into mugs. “I don't think the bully could have fallen out the window himself. I'm pretty sure that..."

"John doesn't look like a villain at all!" Stefan flatly declared, sitting on the edge of the table. "You can trust me. This boy is condescending and tolerant even to those who offend him. I bet he’d never hurt anyone if he wanted to."

"I guess no. But by compulsion - I guess yes." Gregory began to pour out arguments, but to Stefan they still seemed unconvincing. “I'm sure you're telling the truth and that John grew up to be a good boy no matter what. But we must not discount his origins. And especially what he was born to do. You haven’t forgotten sixteen years later about Parnasida, have you...”

"I remember, I do," Stefan nodded his head a little annoyed. "You know, do not you. Don't rub salt in the wound!"

Parnasida was Stefan's lover many years ago. Moreover, sixteen years ago, she tragically passed away, but after so many years, the wound from the loss has not healed. By the way, this grief was common for two men: Parnasida was also the sister of Gregory Grantchester. And, of course, such a tragedy could not be forgotten by itself.

"John is in the hospital wing now, I took him there myself. And, judging by what happened today, we won’t have to wait for John to come of age,” Gregory rumbled, lowering his tone of voice, almost in a whisper. There was no one in the teacher's room except for these two men, but Gregory seemed to be afraid that someone might eavesdrop on their conversation. "I think it's time to tell him everything."

"Already?" Stefan gasped.

"Do you have doubts?" Gregory frowned as he sipped his tea. “Didn’t you once come up with an idea that turned into a great plan? Didn't you agree to go to Riddlehill, literally to the end of the world, to put this plan into action, to give yourself a chance and finally throw off the burden of guilt from your soul? We have waited sixteen years. But now it seems to me that your confidence has waned. Tell me it's not. I need you, buddy. I can't do it without you, you know that."

Stefan lowered his head. The man became accustomed to frowning and preoccupied, even sad. The friend's words were true. Stefan reproached himself for the wildest uncertainty, which every year more and more took possession of him. How to tell Gregory Grantchester that in sixteen years a person can become completely different? And do we need to talk about it at all? Stefan loved Gregory very much and could not go against him and against his own plan. The man made such a conclusion in his head literally within a few seconds threw an anxious and short glance at the interlocutor and nodded.

“Do what you have to…” he muttered, and then took a mug of tea as if only to warm his frozen palms. It was indeed a bit chilly in the teacher's room.
Gregory sighed heavily and, leaving the tea on the table, got up from the chair, which still creaked loudly, settled next to Stefan on the corner of the table. He hugged him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Stefan bit his lips, as if holding back the words that were about to come out.

"We're doing this for her. For our Parnasida," Gregory repeated. "You must trust me as much as I trust you. We are friends."

Stefan nodded again and smiled. He looked at his old friend with a heavy, full of uncertainty look, and through this confusion he nevertheless smiled. Gregory guessed that he was oppressing Stefan, he understood that perhaps he had come many years later with not very good news, but this moment had to come sooner or later. Gregory removed his hand from his friend's shoulder and added:

"I'm going to the hospital wing now. To John. I won't force him to do anything. I'll give him a choice."

"Well, then what?" Stefan asked.

Of course, this question was rhetorical, but Gregory answered anyway.

“Then everything will happen as it should happen,” he said confidently and calmly and, patting his friend on the shoulder for the last time, he stood up from the corner of the table, adding, “I am glad to see you, my priceless friend. I really missed you."

The man then headed for the exit and fled outside the door, leaving Stefan alone and confused. For a few more minutes, the English teacher sat in deathly silence, and then he jumped up like he was scalded, and rushed to the dormitory, forgetting about his fascinating reading, from which he was distracted by the guest, and about the lesson, which was supposed to take place in half an hour. The decision was made: it was at this moment that Stefan Jernigan's sixteen-year teaching career was completed.

Around that moment, John opened his eyes: he woke up. The hospital wing of the Saint Paul boarding house was located in the northern building and was the most distant building from the hostel. And this meant that the probability of seeing one of the peers was reduced to zero, which could not but please John. The boy did not remember how he got into the hospital room; the last thing that revolved in his memory was a feeling of cold and pain. Who brought him back to such a hated place remained a mystery.

Surprisingly, the boy's body did not hurt at all: no bruises, no wounds. John lay in a narrow hospital bed on a soft pillow and under a very warm wadded blanket and felt unusually fine, as after a quality long rest. He had not felt so good for a long time: silence caressed his ears, the rays of the setting sun played on the windows with fleeting glare, peace seemed like paradise, and even the anxiety that serenity might be interrupted was drowned out by a languid, pleasant feeling of time stopped.

A few minutes later, a short plump woman in a white coat entered the hospital room. She had a stack of clean towels in her hands. Seeing that John woke up, the woman quickly approached him, smiled, and in a kind, gentle voice said:

"Finally woke up. Does anything hurt? Do you want to eat or drink? Ask me for any reason, do not be shy, my boy."

John lifted himself up on his elbows and sat down on the iron headboard. The boy shook his head in denial and smiled at the good-natured nurse.

The woman in the white coat was called Megan, or simply Maggie's sister. She was one of the few workers in the hospital wing and one of the brightest and kindest people in the boarding house. John was more often than anyone else in the hospital wards, and meetings with Sister Maggie were always filled with light and comfort. Megan also loved this boy very much, tried to please him, and when John was a child and got into the hospital, Megan read him bedtime fairytales. Of course, over time, this tradition faded away: now Megan and John were just talking over a cup of hot fruit tea with oatmeal cookies. This treat in Sister Meggie's domain was, thank God, in abundance.

“You definitely need to eat,” Sister Meggie said it, going to the closet to put the towels on the shelves. "Tonight's dinner is rice and fish and a piece of pumpkin pie for dessert from Madame Rosie. Oh, that cook, felt like you were going to be in hospital bed again. She was delighted to know that you were here. Of course, not the reason for this, but the fact itself. Well, you got me."

"I'm a little hungry, yes," John said, tucking up and hugging his knees. "And how are you, Sister Maggie?"

"It's just a mad house, to be honest. Alex was brought to us in the morning: I thought he again became the instigator of the fight, but it turned out that he fell out of the window. He's lost all sense of self-preservation, silly. Thank God it was okay. He is sleeping now. Then Gregory Grantchester himself brought you in. I just couldn't believe my eyes! And about an hour ago, Neal came in, you know, a boy from the junior class. Also got into a fight with someone. After all, the children do not live quietly, whatever you say. And sister Agrippina finally retired. She is a happy person, by God," she answered, rolling her eyes. "You better tell me what happened to you. We were all very scared. They say you wanted to run away from the orphanage. We all thought so when Gregory Grantchester..."

"And who is he?" John frowned, interrupting Sister Maggie, and added "this Mr. Gregory Grantchester ..."

“Who is he? Oh, God Lord!” the woman exclaimed in astonishment. "Gregory Grantchester is the head of the board of trustees, a very influential and, most importantly, generous person. The boarding house would not exist now if it were not for this generous gentleman. Once his father helped our establishment, and now Mr. Grantchester himself patronizes us. Great people. Truly! But he rarely comes here. And if he pays a visit, then only to the headmistress and only on important urgent matters. That's why I was immensely surprised when I saw him in our hospital wing."

John has never heard this name. Therefore, some important gentleman saved him from something and brought him here. But saved him from what? In addition, can it even be called salvation? Return to the orphanage. Wouldn't it be better to disappear, go on the run and live the life of a hermit? John thought for a moment and turned to the window, where the sun was setting over the forest horizon.

"I think he’ll still be here today," said Maggie, grinning, and finally laying out the towels, she closed the closet and went to the boy’s bed.

"Why did you decide this?" John asked.

“Well,” said Meggie and sat on the bed next to the boy, “when Mr. Gregory brought you in, he strictly ordered us to take care of you, provide all possible assistance, well, with a hint that he would come and check . So I thought that all this is strange, because in fact you do not even know him. He's kind, though, very kind..."

“Really, it’s strange…” John nodded.

In fact, no one has ever shown such concern for him: a complete stranger who does not give a damn about an ugly juvenile orphan. Of course, John was intrigued by this and wanted to see this mysterious head of the board of trustees, Mr. Gregory Grantchester, as soon as possible.

"You know, we'll probably do this way," Maggie said playfully. "You stay in bed, and I'll bring dinner here. You sing, then we'll chat, and then Mr. Gregory will appear, I guess. Then we will ask him about everything and will not let him go anywhere until we find out all the details. Well, how do you agree?"

John pulled away from his thoughts for a moment and, looking into Sister Maggie’s bright, shining eyes, smiled and nodded. Strange, but still, the place where people get with diseases and injuries seemed to the boy the most comfortable and safe of all where he managed to visit.

"Yeah," he said. The viscous state of mind and body dulled consciousness, and Meggie's speech seemed confused and too fast for perception.

“Well, that’s nice,” the nurse summed up and, turning around, hurried to the exit from the hospital ward.

John followed her with his eyes and began to look out the window again. Still, there was nothing more pleasant than this peace and quiet, a sense of security that sometimes seemed so rare and unsteady. Sighing heavily, the boy got out of bed and, slowly, went to the toilet room. Taking a clean towel, he threw it over his shoulder and, bending over the tap, turned on the cold water and washed his face.

A knock on the door startled John, and he dropped his towel. An unfamiliar male voice behind him said softly:

"You have become so mature..."

"Who are you," the boy said in a barely audible voice. Holding his breath for a moment, he shuddered, as if feeling an invisible hand resting on his shoulder. Of course it wasn't. The stranger stood at the threshold of the toilet room, and John watched him in the reflection of the mirror.

"My name is Gregory Grantchester. You may have already heard my name."

"You brought me here," John finished. “Yes, Maggie's sister told me. Hello Mr. Grantchester."
"I would like to talk to you. Let's go to the room, shall we? It will be more comfortable there than in the restroom, don't you think?"

John turned to the stranger. Now he could get a better look at the man. Gregory Grantchester had short dark hair, a face that was already beginning to cover wrinkles and beautiful, kind eyes that inspired sympathy and trust. The stranger smiled. He seemed not so much kind as familiar, as if John had met his unknown relative. It was scary, the feeling of a soul mate connection. John just didn't know what to think yet.

Without saying a word, the boy nodded and left the restroom. Gregory Grantchester followed him.

There was not a soul in the hospital room. As John sat down on his bed, he covered his feet with a soft blanket. Gregory stood near the window. With his hands folded on his chest, he gazed at the boy for a few seconds, as if trying to see all over his unusual face, which made John very uncomfortable. Although the boy was already accustomed to being stared at shamelessly, this was one of the rare occasions when the beholder's curiosity was not mingled with disgust. As for the first meeting, the behavior of this man seemed to John extremely unceremonious.

"How are you, John?" Gregory said softly.

The question seemed surprisingly simple to the boy.

"As you can see, it's not boring... But in general, it's satisfactory. Hands, feet in place. The head, too."

Laughing a little audibly and turning away for a couple of seconds, Gregory continued:

"I see that it's not boring. I'm interested in your state of mind, John. You live restlessly, probably something is happening ..."

"Why do you think so?" the boy frowned.

"You ran away from the orphanage right in the middle of the school day. Did something scare you? Can you tell me what happened to you this morning? Don't be afraid, our conversation will remain private in any case."

"I know…" John answered slightly annoyed. "Why are you interested in this? After all, we do not know each other ... Yes, and everything ended fine. Nobody got hurt. Maybe forget about all this mess?"

"Well, actually, your peer, I think his name is Alex, fell out of the window. Strange story. It seems to be an accident, but his friends say otherwise," without a hint of accusation, and so, in between times, Gregory said. “John, were you there when Alex had that accident?”

The boy pondered. He tried to recall in detail what had happened so quickly in the morning in the corridor of the educational building. Something pushed the hooligan through the window frame. Something unknown protected John from the aggression of his peer. But what was it? To tell this gentleman everything clean? But will he believe in such an implausible story? The boy's heart began to pound so that he could feel it in his chest: excitement swept over his body in an icy wave.

"Alex and his gang..." John sighed heavily. "Bullies from my school group. We don’t get along with them, to put it mildly…"

"Is it because of them that you decided to run away?" Gregory said without the slightest surprise.

"They can be very cruel and unfair... They say that I am... a freak and..." John held his breath for a couple of seconds, and then looking at Mr. Grantchester, finished "...and that I must die. Sometimes I start to think that it really would be better for everyone…"

Gregory Grantchester frowned. His slightly wrinkled face seemed to drop in a sad thoughtfulness, which made the appearance of a guest gloomy and even frightening. John was already beginning to regret telling this man about his conflict with the local hooligans. "Blabbermouth!" he reproached himself in his thoughts. “I should have kept my mouth shut!”

"So what happened this morning?" said Mr. Grantchester. "How did it happen that Alex fell out of the window? I'm sure neither you nor his friends would do such a thing."

"Why are you asking?" Shaking his head slightly and covering his eyes, John asked quietly. The boy realized he’d cornered himself, and this Mr. Grantchester won’t just give up on his questions.

“It seems to me that something happened that seemed strange to you. Something unusual and inexplicable. Please tell me am I right?"

A shiver ran down the boy's spine as Gregory Grantchester spoke as if he was expecting a definite answer. But if he knew about that strange whirlwind that knocked Alex off his feet and damaged him, then why ask about it? John found himself convinced that this Mr. Grantchester was not as simple as he might have seemed. The boy, realizing his innocence meanwhile, shook his head, finding no reason to hide anything.

"I was sure that Alex would beat me half to death. But a strong draft appeared in the corridor. It was something like a hurricane, but for some reason this wind only affected Alex and no one else. And because of this wind, Alex fell out of the window. I didn't understand how it happened, but I thought that..."

"...you’d be blamed for this?" Gregory finished his thought, before the boy could finish his sentence.

John nodded, feeling as if a heavy stone had vanished from his soul. Gregory Grantchester continued:

"But after all, one way or another, Alex had to get punished for his atrocities, although injuries are already too much, but this bully got what he deserved. Don't worry, no one will blame you. Although there is, I must confess, something you should know, John. In fact, there are reasons to believe that you still have something to do with this incident. This whirlwind, I believe, is the work of your hands."

John didn't understand at first. He actually thought he had misheard, because Gregory Grantchester’s last sentence made no sense.

"You probably don't even understand everything you've done, John," the man smiled, his words suddenly filled with obvious admiration. “A great power lives inside you, and something tells me that it is already ready to fully break free. And I can help you if you want."

John couldn't say a word. He listened to Gregory Grantchester and his confusion grew. What strength? What kind of help? What is this man even carrying? The boy wanted to say those exact questions, but a strange muteness seized his lips and forced him to remain silent.

"Tell me," Gregory continued, stepping away from the window and sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. "Would you like to leave here? You hardly ever considered this orphanage your home, did you? Maybe take a step forward? What do you think?"

"Leave?" murmured John. "But where? I don't have anyone, and I don't know you..."

"You're an unusual boy, John, and you know it. You are different from your peers, and I'm not just talking about your triangular growths on your face..."

Now John was full of confidence that the person who found him on the road and brought him to the hospital complex was not a random person in his life, and the conversation must have had a certain context. Nevertheless, what does this Gregory Grantchester want and where does he propose to go?

"I'll tell you about a place where unusual people live. Unusual in the broadest sense. Moreover, it's not far from here. This place won't judge you for the way you look. In this place, you won’t be judged by anyone for how you look. Never. In this place, everyone treats each other as equals. And most importantly, John, that’s where you’ll finally find peace and purpose. So if you want, I can take you there right now. Everything depends entirely on your decision."

John remained silent. Certainly, the boy did not trust the interlocutor. Mr. Gregory Grantchester was one big mystery, interesting but dangerous.

"It's just a suggestion, of course. And in no way would I want to pressure you. If you are unhappy here, then you have nothing to lose. Is not it? After all, it was you who attempted to escape today."

Mr. Grantchester seemed to understand that John was, to put it mildly, embarrassed by such an unexpected proposal, and with a slightly disappointed bow of his head, he got out of bed, probably about to leave.

"Why do you want to help me? You don't even know me. I see you for the first time in my life..." John said in a frightened voice. "What is your benefit here?"

Gregory looked at the boy in surprise, then smiled again.

"Are you looking for a catch in the offer of help? Although your distrust is reasonable, I can’t argue. And about the rest - yes, you see me for the first time. But I don't. It was me who brought you sixteen years ago to St. Paul's Boarding House, which has become your home for many years. And out of the corner of my eye I watched you grow up. Don't be afraid of my help. Just think. You won't change your life by sitting within four walls. To remain in the shadows for such an unusual boy as you is extremely criminal and unfair. I hope for your considered and reasonable decision."

John listened to Gregory Grantchester in shock. The boy simply could not believe what he had just heard. If everything is true, then this man could know all the secrets of John's origin, all the reasons why a teenager was different from his peers in the worst sense of the word "difference". John was about to stop Mr. Grantchester on his way to the exit to give a positive answer to his cryptic proposal, but his mouth treacherously refused to open. The monstrous sensation of a rare opportunity slipping through his hands gripped John, shackled him into a heavy stupor.

Stopping at the door, Gregory Grantchester turned to the boy and silently, as if he himself did not want to leave the hospital room, pulled for a few more seconds, still waiting.

"I want to go with you. I agree,” John blurted out, surprised at himself. His heart was beating wildly. The boy did not understand what he was doing and what he was saying. Traveling with this stranger to an uncertain future is no more dangerous than staying here, in a place where John has never been truly happy.

"Then get up and let's go," breathed Gregory Grantchester with obvious relief.

The man beamed with a smile and held out his hand towards the child. John, realizing that there would be no turning back, waved his hand at all doubts and, jumping out of bed, slowly approached Gregory and took his hand. A warm hand squeezed the boy's pale, cold fingers.