One Night

Five years later

“Ms. Parish, we need to speak to you right away. The headmistress requires a meeting straightaway.”

Hannah tried not to sigh into the phone. “Yes, Ms. Kinsley, I’ll be there shortly.”

She hung up and quickly packed her bag, being as discreet as possible. It was a Friday, and she knew Mr. Harris wouldn’t be in the office at all. The problem was sneaking past Mr. Harris’s administrator. Mrs. Bridgette Sawyer. She was a broody old woman, completely bitter and a stickler for the rules. She seemed particularly concerned with anyone breaking those rules, especially the high moral code she wanted everyone to adhere to.

This made Hannah Parish a target. A child? Out of wedlock? Mrs. Sawyer had been mortified. 

Mr. Harris and the rest of her colleagues came to her defense, claiming that it was a new millennium. But Mrs. Sawyer didn’t care, and she would not stop her incessant chidings and judgement of each and every little thing Hannah did. So now, being called to her son’s primary school by his teacher, she was forced to sneak out of the office like a little mouse. The indignity of it all.

She was down the lift and on her way to the underground when she realized she forgot her coat. It was springtime, but there was a chill in London. It had not relented all week. She berated herself as her shivers became spastic. 

But now that she had escaped the office and was on her way, her worries for her soon came to the forefront of her thoughts. 

Jack Parish was the child that had been conceived that fateful June night. Jack was so incredibly dear to her. He was a funny little guy, his observations were always spot on for his age. His cheerful disposition lifted her spirits in the early years when things became difficult for her. But recently, or more specifically, when he had started school he had run into problems.

In the back of her mind she had always sensed it, those strange, indescribable things about her son. But she knew none of it was logical or possible. And she really did not want to hear from another teacher that Jack was causing problems. That he was a problem child. 

The brick wall and iron gates of Rothridge Primary school were gleaming and imposing. Her boss, Mr. Harris had a connection and she was able to enroll Jack in the prestigious private school. It was all for Jack’s future, but as the school year went on, and he was switched to different teachers, she felt lost.

Hannah knew that she’d never fit it. Not with those posh parents and their pedigrees, but she felt that so long as the staff and teachers were good, and the education was wonderful, there wouldn’t be much to worry about.

Now, with the constant calls of misbehaving, she couldn’t help but feel defensive. That perhaps they had picked out her child because she was of less means than the other parents. 

It was with this attitude that she strode into the headmistress's office. She was nearly fuming and reeving for a fight. She deflated when she spotted her child sitting on a chair, his face red, and his shaggy black hair falling into his face. She knew she kept it a bit long, but she didn’t like cutting it too much. His hair was beautiful and it was just like his father’s. The twitch that her body gave in response to that memory was enough to make her shy away from it. She needed to concentrate. 

“Ah, Mrs. Parish,” the woman with the severe brows and spectacles spoke from her behemoth chair.

“It’s, Miss Parish headmistress,” her son’s petite teacher corrected. She was standing near the headmistress with her back hunched and a perpetual running nose. Ms. Kinsley was lovely but she did herself no favors by wearing bulky sweaters and having terrible posture.

“Very well,” the headmistress cleared her throat. “Ms. Parish, I am Headmistress Crossly. Under normal circumstances I enjoy meeting my pupil’s parents, but that is not the case today.”

Hannah tried to quell her irritation and instead focused on her son. She reached him and smoothed out his hair. “What happened?”

Ms. Kinsley spoke up after a sniffle. “Jack is a good boy but,”

The headmistress cut her off. “Excuse me Ms. Kinsley, but Jack is not a good boy.” She gave Hannah a sharp look. “He is a badly-behaved little boy, causing problems with other students. He is a distraction, and he is a troublemaker. He is constantly pulling pranks.”

Hannah’s brow wrinkled as a guarded expression took over her face. “I don’t believe that.” She said firmly.

“You don’t have to believe it. I am telling you that the child may not return the following year.

Hannah was shocked. “But he hasn’t done anything! Do you have proof to back up your accusations?”

Ms. Kinsley winced. “Well, not exactly.”

“Then you are punishing an innocent child!” Hannah grabbed onto Jack, who at this point was crying. She held her baby close to her, wishing he wasn’t subjected to those hurtful words.

“Ms. Parish, I understand that no parent wants to hear that their child is bad. But I can assure you, yours is. He has the strangest bouts of temper, and whenever his tantrums arise, students and faculty get hurt.”

This startled Hannah, “What do you mean? Jack wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh really?” The headmistress asked in a haughty tone. “Then why did two of Mr. Parish’s classmates get sent to the nurse’s office today?”

Hannah held Jack and continued stroking his hair. “Let’s go sweetling.”

“Ms. Parish, where are you going?” the headmistress was affronted.

“I have had enough of this. I won’t let you speak ill of my son. Not one moment longer.” She held firmly onto her son’s hand and walked out the door. It took all of her willpower not to pick up her child and run for the exit.

“Mum?” Jack’s little voice broke through her fog of panic.

“Yes, love?”

His lower lip trembled, “Are you cross with me?”

Hannah stopped her hurried steps and crouched down in front of him. “No. Absolutely not. I love you best, the most in the world. There is nothing and no one that I like better.”

“Really?”

“Yes, never doubt that my love. You will break my heart if you do.”

His little face flooded with worry. “I won’t doubt you mum.” He was earnest and it was too sweet for her.

“Let's get some tikka masala, how’s that sound?”

He nodded.

Once they were home in their cozy flat and their bellies were full of Indian takeaway, Jack looked at his content mother anxiously. They were on the couch and the telly was playing Mary Poppins.

“Mum?”

“Hmm?” she hummed quietly.

“Am I odd?”

She turned toward him quickly. “Who said you were odd?”

He was silent for a moment, his sigh always followed his mother’s defensive words. “Everyone says that mum.”

“Everyone?”

He nodded, “My classmates, the headmistress, your boss.”

“Mr. Harris says you’re odd?” The offense she felt was palpable.

“Yes, and Mrs. Sawyer.”

“You pay that woman no mind. She is a bitter busybody who has nothing better to do than to criticize every living being that crosses her path.”

“But mum, what if they’re right?”

“They’re not right, love. You are not odd.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You are the only person who thinks that.”

“Being the only one doesn’t mean that I’m wrong. It just means that everyone else is being pig headed.”

“Okay,” he says. He didn’t agree, but he was too young to express what he really meant. How could he tell her the feelings that he had? Or the strange occurrences that seemed to happen to him almost daily now? How could he confess all these things to the one person he loved most? To the one person who’s love and acceptance he desperately needed.

Mr. Harris was able to pull some strings and Jack was admitted to another private school, Everly. It was more free-ranged and artistic than Rothridge. Some would say that it certainly attracted the yuppies and “freethinking” parents. They were just as blue-blooded as the Rothridge parents, but they were eccentric and didn’t really mind one odd little boy. Hannah was relieved, and Jack was grateful. 

He spent the next few years at Everly flying under the radar, trying to keep all of the odd occurrences to a minimum. With the theatrics of his unusual and spoiled classmates, this was easily done. There were some who needed to speak through imaginary friends, others who had various phobias, and most who were outright indulged, but were excused by the teachers and staff because their wealthy parents insisted that they were delicate souls. They insisted that discipline was cruel and stifling to their creativity.

But as accustomed as Jack was to the unusual, it did not prepare him for what occurred on his 11th birthday. 

On March 9th 2008, Jack and his mum were enjoying some teatime and listening to Francois Hardy when there was a knock at the door. 

It was a bit unusual seeing as they were not expecting anyone. Though Hannah had her friends, she spent as much time as she could with Jack. It had been mostly just the two of them for the past eleven years. 

“I’ll go see who it is darling,” she kissed her son’s head and made her way towards the front door of their flat.

When she opened the door, she was wary to see a stranger. It was an old woman wearing unusual robes. Her glasses looked to be from another time. Her complete attire was from another century.

“Can I help you?” Hannah wondered if the woman was lost. 

“Ms. Parish?” she asked.

Hannah’s defenses were up immediately. “Yes, who are you? Are you from Jack’s school?”

The woman patiently shook her head. “No, my name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the Headmistress of a different school. One that may very well suit young Mr. Parish.” she paused, “May I come in? It is best if this is discussed in private.”

Hannah was wary but nodded her head and stepped aside so that Minerva could enter. 

She led her to the cozy living room, Jack already sitting up and moving to leave the couch entirely.

“It is quite alright to remain seated Mr. Parish. If your mother would allow it, I would have this discussion with you both.” 

Hannah hesitated, “Is this something that a child should be privy to?” 

McGonagall nodded, “It regards Mr. Parish and who he is.” 

Hannah felt her heart stop. “A-are you related to his father?” She whispered.

Minerva noted that the young woman covered her mouth to keep the boy from hearing her. She shook her head.

“No. I’m afraid I do not know the answer to that question Ms. Parish.”

Hannah nodded her head and flushed with shame. She knew it was foolish to even think that someone related to Jack’s father would turn up out of the blue. She just had not realized how much she had hoped until that moment. 

How long had she secretly harbored that ember of hope in her heart?

She cleared her throat, “Of course, my apologies. Please have a seat.” She pointed towards a worn but comfortable chair. 

As McGonagall situated herself Hannah jittered with nervous energy. It was so odd to have this complete stranger in her home, wanting to talk to her and her son. But in the end politeness won out.

“Would you like some tea?” Hannah offered.

Minerva shook her head, “No thank you Ms. Parish.”

 She turned to look at the boy seated quietly next to his mother, then Minerva froze. She was transported to another time, another boy from so long ago. The shining but shaggy black hair. The steel grey eyes. Everything about him was just like the other boy.