express some trust, or affection. On the contrary—"
"But I didn't say that," Diamond interrupted him. "All I said was that she got up from the chair and held my hand. And speaking of unscientific assumptions, I'm surprised to hear you talking about autism in relation to Naomi before you've actually seen her."
'I specialize in autism," Dickinson said icily. "I wouldn't have been invited here unless the child had exhibited autistic tendencies."
Julia Musgrave judged it right to interrupt the exchange. "Peter, what was it you came in about? Something urgent?"
"Something I'd like you to hear from me before you get it from anyone else," he answered, and went on to tell her how it was that Naomi was back in possession of the marker. "You don't mind?" he said finally, encouraged that she'd nodded more than once as he was relating the episode.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Julia answered. "Anything is preferable to that passive state she's been in for so long. Yes, I'm really heartened. She's being positive at last."
Without much tact, Dr. Dickinson offered his interpretation. "This is very characteristic. Autistic children frequently become possessive about objects, to an exceptional degree, I mean. Mirrors, wheels, bits of crumpled paper. They refuse to be parted from them. It's compulsive." He took a writing pad from his folder and made a note.
"Oh, is that a pencil?" Diamond remarked. "I thought it was a necklace." Afterwards he regretted saying such a bitchy thing, not because he cared a sparrow's fart about Dickinson, but because it wasn't clever to fuel the man's evident dislike of him, which could easily prejudice his assessment of Naomi. Talking first and thinking after was a failing that had got Diamond into trouble in the past, and would again. He had the sense to leave Julia's office after that.
He slumped into an armchair in the staffroom, bemoaning his lowly status in the school. In his days in the police, he would have overruled Dickinson or any other headshrinker if a child's interests were under threat He wouldn't have taken mat horseshit about compulsive behavior. Well, he thought, I didn't take it. But I'd have shown him the bloody door.
He couldn't be sure which way Julia Musgrave would jump. Her calm personality was a tremendous asset in a school like this. She was approachable and open to suggestions; which meant inconveniently that people like Dickinson got a hearing. Under pressure from the shrinks, the Japanese Embassy and the borough council, she was going to find it difficult, if not impossible, to hold on to Naomi. She was massively outgunned. One failed policeman convinced mat everyone else was mistaken wasn't exactly the U.S. Cavalry riding to the rescue.
His thoughts were interrupted by die jingle of tambourines being carried along the corridor, and the music teacher tottered in with the instruments stacked in her arms and the guitar slung across her back, and still wearing her fedora. She dumped everything onto a chair and went to the kettle. "Want a coffee?"
"I wouldn't say no."
"Thanks for bringing Naomi in. I didn't know where she was."
He nodded. "Does she take to the music?"
"Not that I've noticed. Would you prefer tea?"
"Whatever you're having."
They waited for the kettle. The girl, an Australian from her accent, said, "Your name is Diamond, right?"
"Yep."
"Hold on, then. I've got something to show you. I won't be long." She left him to make the coffee.
Presently she was back, with a large sheet of paper. "Did you know you have a secret admirer?" She held the paper up.
He stared, disbelieving. "Naomi did this?"
"Who else?" she said. "And in my lesson. The little hussy won't bash a tambourine for me while you're on her mind."
The mark on the paper was bold and unmistakable:
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A narrow blue rectangle was visible between the World Trade Center and the New York Telephone Company. It was the Hudson River. Viewed from Manny Flexner's office on the twenty-first
"But I didn't say that," Diamond interrupted him. "All I said was that she got up from the chair and held my hand. And speaking of unscientific assumptions, I'm surprised to hear you talking about autism in relation to Naomi before you've actually seen her."
'I specialize in autism," Dickinson said icily. "I wouldn't have been invited here unless the child had exhibited autistic tendencies."
Julia Musgrave judged it right to interrupt the exchange. "Peter, what was it you came in about? Something urgent?"
"Something I'd like you to hear from me before you get it from anyone else," he answered, and went on to tell her how it was that Naomi was back in possession of the marker. "You don't mind?" he said finally, encouraged that she'd nodded more than once as he was relating the episode.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Julia answered. "Anything is preferable to that passive state she's been in for so long. Yes, I'm really heartened. She's being positive at last."
Without much tact, Dr. Dickinson offered his interpretation. "This is very characteristic. Autistic children frequently become possessive about objects, to an exceptional degree, I mean. Mirrors, wheels, bits of crumpled paper. They refuse to be parted from them. It's compulsive." He took a writing pad from his folder and made a note.
"Oh, is that a pencil?" Diamond remarked. "I thought it was a necklace." Afterwards he regretted saying such a bitchy thing, not because he cared a sparrow's fart about Dickinson, but because it wasn't clever to fuel the man's evident dislike of him, which could easily prejudice his assessment of Naomi. Talking first and thinking after was a failing that had got Diamond into trouble in the past, and would again. He had the sense to leave Julia's office after that.
He slumped into an armchair in the staffroom, bemoaning his lowly status in the school. In his days in the police, he would have overruled Dickinson or any other headshrinker if a child's interests were under threat He wouldn't have taken mat horseshit about compulsive behavior. Well, he thought, I didn't take it. But I'd have shown him the bloody door.
He couldn't be sure which way Julia Musgrave would jump. Her calm personality was a tremendous asset in a school like this. She was approachable and open to suggestions; which meant inconveniently that people like Dickinson got a hearing. Under pressure from the shrinks, the Japanese Embassy and the borough council, she was going to find it difficult, if not impossible, to hold on to Naomi. She was massively outgunned. One failed policeman convinced mat everyone else was mistaken wasn't exactly the U.S. Cavalry riding to the rescue.
His thoughts were interrupted by die jingle of tambourines being carried along the corridor, and the music teacher tottered in with the instruments stacked in her arms and the guitar slung across her back, and still wearing her fedora. She dumped everything onto a chair and went to the kettle. "Want a coffee?"
"I wouldn't say no."
"Thanks for bringing Naomi in. I didn't know where she was."
He nodded. "Does she take to the music?"
"Not that I've noticed. Would you prefer tea?"
"Whatever you're having."
They waited for the kettle. The girl, an Australian from her accent, said, "Your name is Diamond, right?"
"Yep."
"Hold on, then. I've got something to show you. I won't be long." She left him to make the coffee.
Presently she was back, with a large sheet of paper. "Did you know you have a secret admirer?" She held the paper up.
He stared, disbelieving. "Naomi did this?"
"Who else?" she said. "And in my lesson. The little hussy won't bash a tambourine for me while you're on her mind."
The mark on the paper was bold and unmistakable:
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A narrow blue rectangle was visible between the World Trade Center and the New York Telephone Company. It was the Hudson River. Viewed from Manny Flexner's office on the twenty-first
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