When She Was Bad(83)

Relief made my muscles weak. I had been given a reprieve.

At the time it was all taking place though, all those years ago, it hadn’t been relief but pure fury that had flowed through my veins when my nemesis, Dan Oppenheimer, first encroached on what had been, up to then, my assessment, my territory.

I hadn’t slept well in the days following the meeting at the Child Welfare Department. I was young and inexperienced when it came to judging personal interactions. (I still struggle. In fact, a shrink I was seeing a few years ago asked me if I’d ever considered whether I might be on the autistic spectrum. ‘Most of us are,’ he said glibly.) I could tell that something had been damaged between me and Ed Kowalsky, but not what or how deep the damage went.

We were due to meet with Laurie again. This time we were visiting the preschool she’d been attending two days a week. The idea was we’d chat to staff about her progress and observe her interacting with the other kids and then take her out for ice cream with Jana. We’d agreed it would be low-key and informal, so I was taken aback to arrive at the tiny school office to find that Ed had brought someone else with him. Daniel Oppenheimer. The two of them filled the cramped room.

‘Ah, Anne. You know Dan, I take it?’ said Ed casually.

I nodded, unable to look at my classroom rival – which was a tricky feat considering Oppenheimer’s freakish height.

‘He’s going to be joining our sessions from now on. I felt we’d now reached a point in the proceedings with Laurie where a fresh pair of eyes would be a boon, and of course Dan knows the case inside out from his involvement with David’s assessment.’

‘But what about cross-overs? I thought you decided the two cases needed to be kept completely separate, to avoid the possibility of us influencing one another?’

Ed was nodding before I’d even finished, as if he’d anticipated the question.

‘Quite so. Quite so. But now that the preliminaries are over and we’ve had time to, ah, get the measure of each child’s needs, I think that danger is past. I’ll level with you, Anne. I believe we’ve reached a critical stage with Laurie. Her age now makes it imperative that we reach a decision on her future quickly, and I think Dan is ideally placed to help us arrive at that decision.’

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it must be obvious, even through the sweater I’d put on against the sudden chill. After a mild September which had failed to distinguish itself fully from the sweltering months which preceded it, fall had finally arrived over the last couple of days, bringing cool winds which I welcomed wholeheartedly.

‘Right. Of course. The more the merrier.’

My own jolly voice grated in my ears, but what else could I have done? It was obvious that, when faced with the choice between potential competition and potential dissent, Ed had chosen the former. Dan Oppenheimer would aim to build his career out of this case in a way I’d never dare to. I’d always suspected this was probably the real reason Ed had only allowed him to see half the picture. But now I’d proved less biddable than he’d imagined, he was going into damage limitation. If there were three of us, the majority view would hold. Oppenheimer would back up Kowalsky if it was strategically advantageous for him to do so. I was effectively being sidelined.

The women who ran the preschool buzzed around Dan and Ed. They kept calling Dan ‘Professor’, although he did try to correct them. To me they addressed all the practical questions – would we be wanting coffee, lemonade? – and the more domestic details about Laurie’s life. So in the middle of an anecdote about how Laurie had helped another, younger child, the woman relating it turned to me to mouth ‘to the toilet’ before turning back to the others to continue her story.

And all the time, as I sat awkwardly on the tiny chair that was the only choice after the men had been offered the two spare full-size ones, anxiety was churning my insides. Should I have kept my opinions to myself? Followed Ed Kowalsky’s lead? Stayed quiet for the sake of my career? I thought about Harvard and Yale and Cornell, the office I’d envisaged for myself in a redbrick building with ivy growing up the walls and a view out over the treetops as they turned from green to orange before shedding completely. Now, from my vantage point across the years, I call out to my younger self wedged into that little chair with her ungainly knees up under her chin. ‘Toe the line,’ I say to her. ‘Nod when he speaks and agree when it’s your turn. There’ll be time enough to find your voice when you’re out of there.’ But, miserable and agitated, my younger self doesn’t hear.