always Sami’s favourite.’
Places had been set for everyone at the big kitchen table, but Fabiola said she’d better ride back while there was still light. Sami clutched at her arm as she turned away and stroked her hand. She smiled at him, receiving a wide grin in return.
‘
Demain
?’ Sami said, in a questioning tone, asking if Fabiola would be back tomorrow.
‘
Demain
,’ Fabiola replied, gently patting Sami’s cheek. Bruno escorted her outside and asked for her verdict. Sami was malnourished, she reported. He also had hypertension, very high blood pressure and some gastric and bronchial infections that she’d identify when she had the results of the blood and other samples she’d taken. He would need major dental work, a broken bone in his left arm would probably need to be reset, and she thought a specialist had better look at the whipping scars on his back. Some of them weren’t healing.
‘He’s in poor shape, but in no immediate danger as far as I can see. As for the problems I can’t see, I’ll get the blood-test results in a day or so and I’ll let you know what they find. Physically, he needs rest, a good diet and some antibiotics. I’ve started him on a course that should clear up the infections in his scars. Dillah has the tablets. He seems calm enough, so I’ve stopped the sedatives. Psychologically, he’s in a bad way.’
‘Is it straightforward autism?’ Bruno asked.
‘There’s no such thing, and a lot of us are no longer convinced it’s a useful term,’ she replied. Autism used to be seen as morbid self-absorption, she explained, then it was said to be the result of bad parenting, and more recently that it was genetic. Some specialists thought it came from mercury poisoning or some other new toxin in the environment. All modern medicine could truthfully say was that autism was a catch-all word used for people who did not react conventionally to current social norms. They could be mute, hyperactive, extraordinarily gifted in some ways and almost psychopathic in others.
‘What happened to him as a child in Algeria was likely to trigger some kind of extreme reaction. Post-traumatic stress in children often presents itself as elective mutism, they just decide not to speak,’ she went on. ‘But whatever condition Sami had when he was growing up here has been hugely complicated by the new traumas he went through in Afghanistan. On the bright side, he’s obviously capable of strong affection. He shows it for Dillah and Momu, and for your dog. That may be a good sign, but from the way he reacted to me he might have something we see in orphanages, a reactive detachment disorder. Kids starved of contact and affection when young will often grab desperately to any adult in sight.’
‘Do you think prison psychologists will be able to help him?’
She said nothing but looked at him solemnly for a long moment and then at the rifle slung over his shoulder and sighed. She turned away to mount her horse, and said, ‘I don’t think I’m qualified to judge.’
‘Will you be back to see him tomorrow?’ Bruno asked. ‘You told him you would.’
‘I’d like to, but I’m not sure your prison psychologists would want another doctor getting involved,’ she said. As she settled in the saddle she added, ‘If I’m needed, of course I’ll come. In any event I’ll call you when I get the test results.’
At table, Sami used a spoon to devour his food and kept his left hand curled around his plate as if to protect it. Dillah was watching Sami, and she put her hand on his arm and told him gently, ‘It’s alright, Sami, there is plenty of food. We won’t be hungry.’
Sami smiled at her but continued to bolt his food. He seemed unconcerned at the sight of Bruno’s rifle leaning against hischair. He was evidently accustomed to the sight of armed men, even when they kept their weapons to hand as they ate. That was probably commonplace in Afghanistan, Bruno thought, but perhaps not if
Places had been set for everyone at the big kitchen table, but Fabiola said she’d better ride back while there was still light. Sami clutched at her arm as she turned away and stroked her hand. She smiled at him, receiving a wide grin in return.
‘
Demain
?’ Sami said, in a questioning tone, asking if Fabiola would be back tomorrow.
‘
Demain
,’ Fabiola replied, gently patting Sami’s cheek. Bruno escorted her outside and asked for her verdict. Sami was malnourished, she reported. He also had hypertension, very high blood pressure and some gastric and bronchial infections that she’d identify when she had the results of the blood and other samples she’d taken. He would need major dental work, a broken bone in his left arm would probably need to be reset, and she thought a specialist had better look at the whipping scars on his back. Some of them weren’t healing.
‘He’s in poor shape, but in no immediate danger as far as I can see. As for the problems I can’t see, I’ll get the blood-test results in a day or so and I’ll let you know what they find. Physically, he needs rest, a good diet and some antibiotics. I’ve started him on a course that should clear up the infections in his scars. Dillah has the tablets. He seems calm enough, so I’ve stopped the sedatives. Psychologically, he’s in a bad way.’
‘Is it straightforward autism?’ Bruno asked.
‘There’s no such thing, and a lot of us are no longer convinced it’s a useful term,’ she replied. Autism used to be seen as morbid self-absorption, she explained, then it was said to be the result of bad parenting, and more recently that it was genetic. Some specialists thought it came from mercury poisoning or some other new toxin in the environment. All modern medicine could truthfully say was that autism was a catch-all word used for people who did not react conventionally to current social norms. They could be mute, hyperactive, extraordinarily gifted in some ways and almost psychopathic in others.
‘What happened to him as a child in Algeria was likely to trigger some kind of extreme reaction. Post-traumatic stress in children often presents itself as elective mutism, they just decide not to speak,’ she went on. ‘But whatever condition Sami had when he was growing up here has been hugely complicated by the new traumas he went through in Afghanistan. On the bright side, he’s obviously capable of strong affection. He shows it for Dillah and Momu, and for your dog. That may be a good sign, but from the way he reacted to me he might have something we see in orphanages, a reactive detachment disorder. Kids starved of contact and affection when young will often grab desperately to any adult in sight.’
‘Do you think prison psychologists will be able to help him?’
She said nothing but looked at him solemnly for a long moment and then at the rifle slung over his shoulder and sighed. She turned away to mount her horse, and said, ‘I don’t think I’m qualified to judge.’
‘Will you be back to see him tomorrow?’ Bruno asked. ‘You told him you would.’
‘I’d like to, but I’m not sure your prison psychologists would want another doctor getting involved,’ she said. As she settled in the saddle she added, ‘If I’m needed, of course I’ll come. In any event I’ll call you when I get the test results.’
At table, Sami used a spoon to devour his food and kept his left hand curled around his plate as if to protect it. Dillah was watching Sami, and she put her hand on his arm and told him gently, ‘It’s alright, Sami, there is plenty of food. We won’t be hungry.’
Sami smiled at her but continued to bolt his food. He seemed unconcerned at the sight of Bruno’s rifle leaning against hischair. He was evidently accustomed to the sight of armed men, even when they kept their weapons to hand as they ate. That was probably commonplace in Afghanistan, Bruno thought, but perhaps not if
Similar Books
