“She’d go over to the other side?”
Matthew looked at the speaker. Gerald Finnison was a civil servant responsible for the allocation of budgets within the security services. He was also a small-minded fool.
“Mr Finnison, there are only two sides as far as Amber is concerned, hers and the other side. Which side are you on?”
The other man laughed dismissively. “You make this little girl sound as if she’s a national security threat; she’s just a girl, for heaven’s sake!”
The Brigadier turned his hawk-like nose towards the civil servant, whom he disliked enormously in any case.
“Mr Finnison, this girl represents the results of many thousands of pounds worth of taxpayers’ money and many thousands of hours of important research that was demolished at the stroke of a politician’s pen. No doubt on the advice of an ignorant and sycophantic civil servant, not unlike several in post at this time. Never underestimate what you do not understand, and never belittle the opinions and observations of men I trust completely. Do I make myself clear?” he said.
Gerald resented the fact that military men, such as the Brigadier, had any place within official corridors of power, but more than that, he was actually frightened of men who led from the front, commanded utter respect and loyalty and seemed to fail to acknowledge that civil servants had any place in life at all.
He wisely shut up and bided his time.
“Well, Matthew, what’s the plan?” the Brigadier asked.
Matthew outlined both the short term and long-term strategies. Reluctantly, Gerald Finnison found himself reluctantly agreeing to a nominal budget to cover the cost of Amber’s education up to and including university, and the maintenance of the scientific assessment and support team for the next five years. He was then excluded from the technical discussion that took place.
John Beecham and Simon Haddow were both surprised and delighted to be reunited once more. In 1960, Simon had been lured away by the promise of a fine salary, excellent fringe benefits and a better standard of living in America. As the professor in charge of paranormal studies at UCLA, he found the Americans were willing to throw as much research money at him in months that the British government failed to do over several years.
A tall, suave Englishman had approached him at the end of the academic day. The students filed out of the lab and this man had come in after the last one left.
“Professor Haddow?”
“Yes, can I help you?” he’d said, before realising that the man spoke the Queen’s English.
“My name is Rider, professor. I wonder if you could give me a little of your time.”
“May I ask what about?”
“Certainly, it’s about Glenisla House. I’m here to tell you that you succeeded after all.”
Simon blinked a couple of times, but then shook his head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, starting to pile his books up on a table at the back of the lab.
“Professor, my full name is Major Matthew Rider, I am attached to the Ministry of Defence. I have pleasure in informing you that the child of Carol and Robert Masters is displaying significant signs of outshining both her parents and all other subjects potentially by a factor of five hundred percent.”
Simon stopped tidying up his books and stared at the man.
“What?”
“You heard. My invitation is for you to rejoin the team that is to be tasked with evaluating and assisting in her development. I have a letter here, signed by the project leader, Brigadier Wallace. In short, professor, your country needs you!”
“But what about my job here? My family is settled in school and everything!”
“I imagine there will be some time before any activity takes place, we don’t intend approaching her until her twelfth birthday, so that won’t be until March 1964. I suggest you consider our offer. I’m sure the salary won’t match the one you are getting over here, but the research material will bring you a quality of subject beyond your wildest dreams.”
Simon was working out his contract dates and even the ages of his children at that time. Rebecca, his wife, wasn’t actually that thrilled with the American way of life and he would quite like to send the children to a good English school.
“I’ll need to negotiate an education package for my children!” he said.
“I’m sure that can be arranged. Read the letter. I’m staying at the Holiday Inn if you want to talk to me. I’m flying home in two days.”
Then he’d gone.
Simon had rushed home and immediately wondered how to broach the subject with his wife. It was tricky, particularly as he had spent months wearing her down to come over to the States in the first place.
After supper, the children went to bed and he settled down to watch the news.
“God, I hate their bloody television!” Rebecca said.
“Do you really hate this place so much?” he asked.
“Yes and no. Oh, Simon, the house is lovely and your salary is three times what you’d get in England, but it’s just so, so, so American!”
“That’s bad?”
“Not really, it’s just I’m too English and to be honest, I don’t fit in with them. But, I understand your work is important, and we are living very well.”
“My grant is due at the end of the financial year. If I can get a package that is suitable in the UK, would you like to go home?”
Her smile said it all.
Simon kissed her and went into his study to make a phone call. Six months later, they were back in England and Simon Haddow was once more employed by the British Government.
It took the Brigadier and his assistant two years to select and gather the right team. Nevertheless, the team could not agree as to the best method of approach and handling of the child. However, now Matthew had made the initial approach, they realised that all their ideas and theories amounted to very little. Amber’s will and determination had not been considered a factor in their discussions, so they now all had to get back to basics and start again.
Before they knew it, she’d taken and passed her common entrance with a very high mark in every subject. Fortunately for their cover story, her marks were suitable for consideration for a scholarship to just about any school in the country.
“What do we do?” the brigadier asked.
“Bring her in, let’s take on her education as well as develop her powers,” suggested Simon.
“Are you qualified to teach O and A level subjects?” Matthew asked, with a small smile.
“No, but we could bring tutors in.”
“What about socialisation?” suggested Gillian Carter, the psychologist.
“Exactly! She must be exposed to as normal a development as possible,” said the fourth member of the team, Mike Lawrence. Mike was an educational psychologist and an expert in the studies of behaviour.
“What does she need that for?” asked John Beecham, the scientist.
“Because, in every other aspect she is a very normal teenage girl, with the same needs as any other,” said Matthew, feeling more than protective of the girl.
“We don’t want to expose her to too much distraction,” Beecham said.
“If you lock her away, bringing in just some dry old teachers, she’ll probably rebel and we’ll lose her. You forget that she has to agree to our programme, otherwise we should simply go home now.”
John Beecham couldn’t understand why her agreement was necessary.
“She’s a child; surely she’ll just do what she’s told?”
“You never married, did you John?” his old friend Simon Haddow asked.
“What?”
“John, you really need to adjust your ideas. These days, children don’t stay children as long as they did in our day!”