The door opened slowly into a room filled with unimaginable treasures.
‘Come,’ had been the single word response to my hesitant knock.
Mr Saltham’s office was at the back of the old hall, beneath what had once been the stage. School mythology said that nobody had ever seen Old Sea Salt’s office and lived, so I hoped I would be the first. To survive I mean.
On every available space there were marvels. An antique naval globe shared space with an ancient sextant. A brass compass sat next to a plaque with a photo of a large navy ship of some kind. One shelf held a painstakingly detailed model of a sailing ship, the Victory, according to the name on its side. Hanging on a chain from the ceiling was one of those old-fashioned metal diver’s helmets with the big round faceplates.
I had to skirt around a huge brass telescope on a wooden tripod to approach Mr Saltham’s desk. As I did, I noticed a photo of a very young Mr Saltham receiving a medal from the Queen of England.
I didn’t know much about the royal navy, and even less about their medals, but I didn’t have to be a genius to work out that, if the medal was being presented by the Queen, then it was a serious piece of tin.
I suddenly realised there was a lot more to Old Sea Salt than just the grumpy old guy who ran the Glenfield College gym.
His desk was covered with more of the same: miniature ensigns; a tiny brass cannon paperweight; and a clock shaped like the steering wheel of an old sailing ship.
Mr Saltham hadn’t left the navy at all. He had brought it with him.
‘Jacob,’ he said, and I was surprised he used my first name. Saltham called everyone by their surname, and I, if he noticed me at all, was usually ‘Smith’.
‘Excuse me,’ I said nervously. ‘I was hoping for a word.’
He stared at me and did not invite me to sit, although there was a spare seat in front of the desk.
I began, ‘I, er …’
‘I know what it’s about, Jacob,’ he said. ‘And I was wondering when you’d show up.’
This was not going as I had expected it to. He sounded almost friendly.
‘The other day you said something … I may have heard you wrong … but something that sounded a little like: “Stay out of my head.” I wondered what you meant.’
‘You know damn well what I meant.’
‘I um …’
‘Don’t you try any more of your psychic tricks on me. You only got me that first time because I wasn’t expecting it. I hadn’t seen it for a few years.’
I sat down in shocked silence.
‘You mean there are others …?’
Saltham began to laugh. ‘So, you thought you were the only one! That’s rich. You all like to think you are so special.’
‘How many others are there?’ I asked incredulously.
‘How the hell should I know?’ was Saltham’s testy response. ‘I don’t keep a register of these things. I’ve seen perhaps four or five kids come through the school with your sort of ability. “Will Benders” I call you, because of the way you try to make other people do what you want. Most of them were just like you, although there was one young lady who had an incredible ability.’
He paused for a moment, remembering, then shot back to me. ‘Let me guess. You can suggest things; you can put thoughts into people’s minds and make them think they’ve thought of it themselves. But you can’t convince someone to do something they wouldn’t do otherwise or if they’re determined not to do it. You couldn’t make someone jump off a cliff, for example. Sound pretty much right?’
I nodded. As far as I knew he had it right on the button.
‘If you’ve seen four or five of us …’ It felt weird saying us. ‘Then there must be others, in other schools, in other countries …’
‘Thousands, I’d say.’
‘But that’s impossible. We’d have heard about it. It would have been on the news or in Time or CNN or something.’
Old Sea Salt smiled at me. ‘And how many people have you told?’
I said nothing. He was right, of course.
He continued. ‘Besides, I reckon half of them don’t even know they have the power. Not unless they’ve consciously tried to use it.’
My head was spinning with all this information.
‘You can always pick them,’ he was saying. I tried to focus on his words. ‘People in the news, in positions of power, people who seem to have a strange effect on the people around them. Think about it. You’ll come up with a whole list.’
I tried, but my mind was a blank. ‘But how come you can tell?’ I asked, although the answer was already beginning to dawn on me. ‘How come you spotted me so quickly?’
‘Takes one to know one,’ Saltham said, and roared again with laughter.
Then it all made sense.
The somersault exercise. I had failed and failed again. I had been convinced I would fail, and then, suddenly, I had been sure I would succeed. That I could do it.
‘It was you,’ I said slowly. ‘You made me feel confident.’
Saltham stood up and said, ‘I’ve got to get to the staffroom.’
He held the door open for me. I ducked beneath his arm and started to climb the spiral wooden staircase up to the wings of the old stage.
Saltham called up.
‘You’re going to have to make a choice now, Jacob. What to do with it. Your power. Or if you’re going to do anything at all.’
His voice echoed up out of the gloom. ‘Some people have the ability their whole lives and know it, but never use it. They don’t think it’s right to try to control and manipulate people.’
He repeated, ‘You’re going to have to make a choice.’
I shook my head, which hurt from all this sudden and terrifying new information.
And the Spring Fever School Fair was rapidly approaching.