The Rosie Result Page 19

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Do you think you could have a look at his computer? Just to see what he’s been doing?’

  Incredible. Rosie was asking me to deliberately invade the privacy of a family member. To commit cyber-crime. On the vaguest of suspicions. Fortunately, there was a practical impediment.

  ‘It’s likely he has a password. He’s intelligent and he’ll have used some complex string.’

  ‘Don, he’s eleven. He likes hanging out with older guys. Plenty of parents would have installed some sort of filter or would insist on having the password.’

  ‘We could do that. It would be more honest.’

  Rosie won the argument, despite my reminding her of the nickname incident, where we had disregarded Hudson’s wishes due to good intentions.

  The technical quality of computer security is generally excellent. The weakest point is the involvement of humans. I did not expect to find Hudson’s password on a piece of paper stuck to the underside of his desk. But I only needed a minute to walk into his room as Rosie distracted him while he was logged on and copy his browsing history to a USB drive.

  The results were mostly predictable for an eleven-year-old entrepreneur interested in science fiction. He contributed to a discussion group for sci-fi book collectors, had a PayPal account that I had authorised for book trading and interacted with various online sites for that purpose. There had been minimal recent activity—no surprise, as he had been focused on the Library app.

  The unexpected discovery was a series of visits to sites devoted to autism, including a diagnostic questionnaire—a self-administered adult instrument rather than a version for use by parents.

  ‘Can you tell what he scored?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘No. The URLs are for the public websites. They don’t include his responses or the derived score.’

  ‘So, do we discuss it with him?’

  ‘I thought the idea was not to reveal our unethical activity and hence turn him against us. As we did with the nickname incident.’

  ‘You agreed to it. Anyway, it seems he’s a step ahead of us, so maybe this is the time to tell him what the school’s been thinking.’

  Hudson’s move to Ms Waddington’s class had proceeded without apparent trauma.

  ‘She’s okay,’ said Hudson as the three of us drove to the bar.

  ‘Also, you’ve escaped from the class clown,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah. Jasper was a little out of control. But there was a kid who started annoying me, and Ms Waddington gave him a detention just like that. Bang. He says he’s going to get me.’

  ‘Is the threat credible?’

  Hudson laughed. ‘He’s not big and his friends aren’t… dangerous. So, probably not.’

  ‘You’ll tell us if he does anything?’ said Rosie. ‘Anything nasty.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Any other benefits of the class change?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m allowed to use my computer to write. And she lets me sit behind the screen.’

  ‘Behind the screen?’

  ‘Not the computer screen. A different screen. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Rosie.

  ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘We can wait. Tell us about the screen,’ said Rosie.

  ‘It’s just a big whiteboard at the back of the room. It blocks out the rest of the class, so you don’t get distracted. It’s not punishment or anything: you get to choose. You can still hear.’

  ‘Brilliant idea,’ I said. ‘Who proposed it?’

  ‘I think Ms Mingos, the teacher’s aide. She comes in to help with Dov. The kid with autism.’

  It was the obvious opportunity to raise the topic with Hudson but by the time Rosie had pointed this out, I had parked the car and Hudson had gone inside, where staff would be setting up for the evening.

  32

  ‘Aren’t you due for a night off?’ Amghad had come in for an ‘informal review’ but had spent most of the time talking with Minh.

  ‘We agreed that I would work every night for the first three months.’

  ‘Always best to set the bar high and then ease off. And you’ve had your whole family putting in. Anyway, give some of the staff a chance to shine. I hear you’re a bit of a control freak.’

  ‘You want me to—’

  ‘All good. But let’s call it five nights a week from here till the end of the three months. Minh’s fine with it. And we won’t be keeping score.’

  ‘I plan on taking Sundays and Tuesdays off as statistically they have the least orders,’ I said.

  ‘Fewest orders,’ said Hudson. He laughed. ‘You did that on purpose.’ It was our first family dinner at home since the bar had opened.

  ‘How was school?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Stop it, you two,’ said Rosie. ‘Tell me about this screen you were talking about the other day. Isn’t…Dov…pretty annoying? And he’s trying to have time out and now you’re there.’

  ‘Not really. He’s only there so he doesn’t get hassled. I don’t hassle him; he doesn’t hassle me. He’s actually okay—he’s pretty funny.’

  ‘Funny hilarious or funny weird?’ I asked.

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Do you consider him a friend?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Hudson. ‘I mean, he’s weird, but I’m getting more used to weird people. And he’s pretty smart. Doesn’t code, though. He’s into cars. He knows everything about Grandpa’s Porsche: like, everything. You can ask him any question.’

  ‘So, if we consider him a friend, you have a total of two, correct?’ I said. ‘Including Blanche.’

  ‘I’ve got lots of friends. Maybe more than you. I’m not… isolated.’

  ‘Don’t you two turn this into a competition,’ said Rosie.

  ‘It’s not a competition—it’s a game,’ I said. ‘Dave.’

  ‘Dave,’ said Hudson. ‘He’s my friend too. Ask him.’

  ‘Carl.’

  ‘Ditto. Ditto Eugenie. Ditto George.’

  Hudson was right. He and George had spent time together in New York. But he had spent minimal time with our other older friends.

  ‘Isaac and Judy Esler,’ I said.

  ‘Merlin and Tazza.’

  ‘Hold it,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m going to change the rules. Only friends within two years of your own age.’

  ‘Unreasonable,’ I said. ‘Obviously—’

  Rosie gave me the zip it signal. ‘Start again.’

  ‘Blanche,’ said Hudson.

  I was in trouble already.

  ‘Dave,’ said Rosie and followed it with a firm nod. I was apparently supposed to lie about Dave’s age.

  ‘Dov.’

  ‘Judy Esler,’ said Rosie and gave me the same signal. Judy was at least ten years older than me, but Hudson might not be aware of that. It seemed that, having defined the rules, we were conspiring to cheat against him.

  ‘Hey, two on one,’ said Hudson.

  ‘He already said Judy,’ said Rosie. ‘And Dave. Two all.’

  Hudson appeared to be searching his mind for additional friends.

  ‘The point I’m making,’ said Rosie, ‘is—’

  ‘Nadia.’

  ‘Who?’ said Rosie.

  ‘A girl in my class. She’s a friend. I’m not making it up.’

  Rosie told me later that Hudson had turned red. I had been preoccupied with searching my mind for clues to Laszlo’s age. Before I could find any, Rosie declared Hudson the winner and instructed me to serve dessert.

  ‘Could you beat up a kickboxer?’ asked Hudson. Despite it being a fine day, he had asked me to drive him to school. I guessed that the question related to Blanche’s father, Gary the Homeopath. While a professional fighter of any kind would be a formidable opponent, I had no information as to whether he had maintained his skills and fitness.

  ‘It would depend on his or her proficiency. The world’s best kickboxer would almost certainly defeat me, and the world’s worst kickboxer would
presumably defeat themselves without any action on my part.’

  Hudson laughed at my joke. ‘You said “almost certainly”. How would you fight the world’s best kickboxer?’

  ‘As quickly as possible. Ideally before they realised that the fight had begun. Probably commencing with a leg sweep. Boxers are generally ineffectual on the ground.’

  ‘Why are you asking? That’s all you had to say.’ Rosie was annoyed that I had answered Hudson’s question without interrogating him about his motives.

  ‘When I was at school, there were frequently discussions about whose father would be superior in a fight. In some cases, there was evidence to draw on.’

  ‘You could be right, but how many kickboxers do we know? Maybe Hudson is afraid of him.’

  Rosie raised the topic with Hudson while we ate crumbed barramundi and forty-five-per-cent celeriac mash. ‘You should invite Blanche around for dinner sometime. Maybe we could ask her family.’

  ‘Her brother’s probably too little. Anyway, not for a while. She’s pretty mad at her dad.’

  Rosie nodded like a psychiatrist and Hudson remained silent.

  ‘Why?’ I said.

  ‘He did the worst thing. He hacked her computer.’

  I did not look at Rosie. Doing so might convey some non-verbal indication of guilt. I decided it would be less risky to focus on the facts than on the moral dimension.

  ‘When?’ I asked.

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘How? I predict he took advantage of human fallibility rather than technology.’

  ‘Wrong. Technology.’

  I felt an irrational annoyance that someone who might be better at martial arts than me was also an information-technology expert. ‘Continue.’

  ‘He had a video camera in Blanche’s room.’

  ‘What?’ said Rosie.

  ‘It’s part of the security system. It’s been there since she was a baby.’

  ‘Is Blanche okay with—’

  ‘Not anymore. She’s put tape on it. But it was pointed at her desk. So he could see what her fingers were doing to get her password. Easy because her tablet’s so big.’

  I was impressed but decided not to share that assessment with Hudson and Rosie. ‘A well-known technique,’ I said. ‘And highly immoral. Did he find anything?’

  ‘She’d been looking up stuff about albinism. Der. And vaccination. That was a while ago, but he found it. Probably autocomplete. I think her mum defended her. That’s why…’ Hudson stopped suddenly.

  Rosie gave me an urgent zip it message.

  Hudson looked uncomfortable. ‘Can I be excused?’

  ‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘I think there’s something you need to tell us.’

  Hudson did not speak for several seconds, and I did not need a second signal to remain silent myself.

  ‘You promise not to say anything? Not like with the nickname, when you blabbed?’

  ‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘We’re not going to promise. Some things aren’t right to keep quiet about. If you’re going to tell us he’s violent—to Blanche or her mum—we’re going to do something about it. Do you understand why?’

  Hudson said nothing.

  ‘You made a promise, right?’ said Rosie. ‘To Blanche.’

  Hudson nodded. I recognised myself as a younger person. I might not have seen beyond the rule that promises were not to be broken. Even now, I would need a strong opposing principle. Rosie had one.

  ‘Which is more important? Keeping a promise or preventing someone from being hurt?’

  Hudson nodded. He was ‘taking it in’. Unlike most of the time when I delivered advice to him.

  ‘I don’t know for sure. She didn’t say exactly what happened. But please, please, please don’t get her into trouble with her dad.’

  Rosie wanted to call the police. After a debate with herself, she decided that she had insufficient evidence to motivate any useful action. But she phoned the school the next day.

  ‘Bronwyn listened. As you’d expect. And said all the right things: thank you, it’s important that we know, and so on. She says they haven’t seen anything with Blanche, but I got the impression she wasn’t totally surprised. From what you said about his behaviour at the swimming, he doesn’t exactly hide his anger.’

  ‘Do you think we should still allow Hudson to go to their place?’

  ‘What do you think? You’re the one who’s been there.’

  ‘Blanche’s father doesn’t appear to interact with them. Hudson’s only there for two hours maximum. And Allannah’s always present.’

  ‘I’ve made Hudson promise to tell me if there’s anything that worries him. Oh, and there’s a bit of a silver lining for him. They’re moving Blanche into Ms Waddington’s class for the last term. With him. There’ll be some excuse, but they think she’ll be better than Rabbit at picking up if anything’s amiss.’

  33

  We were approaching the school holidays, when I would have more time with Hudson. And I had now met his two new age-appropriate friends.

  I drove him to visit Dov, the autistic child. Although Dov’s home was accessible by public transport, I needed to meet at least one parent or guardian and make an assessment of the home environment, as recommended in a document issued by the school. It was fortunate that I had not seen the guidelines before allowing Hudson to visit Blanche: insisting on an inspection of Gary’s office might have been awkward.

  On the way to Dov’s, we discussed Phil’s car. Phil had needed the Toyota, and I was driving the Porsche again. It was noticeably shiny, following panel beating, repainting and polishing. Phil had made me promise that I would not let Rosie drive it unless human life was at stake and there was no other option.

  Dov had an impressive knowledge of the model. He noted that the vehicle had a ‘turbo’ body, which was wider than standard. I now had an explanation for its susceptibility to parking damage.

  It was hard to detect anything unusual about Dov beyond a weight in excess of the healthy range (BMI estimated at thirty) and his knowledge of cars. As a child, I had studied particle physics, collected coins and developed a chess-playing computer program with similar intensity.

  Dov’s mother’s name was Becca and she was delighted that Dov had a friend visiting. I conducted the house inspection and she accompanied me for the full forty-seven minutes, talking primarily about Dov, who had encountered similar problems to Hudson in dealing with the school environment and forming friendships. Dov had been diagnosed as autistic two years earlier, following unspecified problems with his behaviour.

  ‘The diagnosis was unambiguous?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh my God, I wish. Our GP referred him to a psychologist, and she referred him to a psychiatrist, and we’ve been through every diagnosis under the sun: ADHD, OCD, anxiety disorder, bipolar disorder, early onset schizophrenia, personality disorder. They even asked if he was on drugs. Well, he is now, of course: they’ve thrown everything at him.’

  Undoubtedly, ‘everything’ was an exaggeration, but I was reminded of my own experience with the psychiatric profession. Things did not appear to have changed much beyond the list of possible diagnoses and treatments being extended.

  ‘But the current diagnosis is autism?’

  ‘That’s what his psychiatrist wrote for the school. To get the aide. Who, by the way, is great.’

  ‘So, do you now consider the diagnosis sound and the treatment effective?’

  Becca led me back to the kitchen before answering. ‘How can we tell? He had a speech impediment, and he got a lot of teasing about it. He saw a speech therapist for a year, and he didn’t like doing the exercises, but now he’s happy he did.

  ‘But the drugs. He’s put on all this weight. He was difficult before and now he’s less so, but he’s lost something as well. You know, my mother was on this shopping list of medication: it had just grown over the years, and then she got a new doctor and he took her off everything and started from scratch.’

  It took me a few momen
ts to realise that Becca was not changing the topic but making an analogy between her mother and Dov.

  ‘If you’re intellectually capable, it’s advisable to become an expert on your own body and treatments,’ I said. ‘Medical practitioners observe you far less frequently than you observe yourself. Also, they care less. With children and people with diminished cognitive function, we may need to take that role on their behalf.’

  ‘It’s good advice. I keep thinking, really, how bad was he before we started treating him?’

  Hudson showed minimal interest in seeing Dov again. ‘All he wants to talk about is cars.’

  ‘Is it possible that he would make a similar complaint about you? Substituting science fiction for cars?’

  ‘I’m a bit over science fiction. Anyway, I do lots of things.’

  ‘Example?’

  ‘The Library app. The blocks.’

  ‘I thought you’d finished with the blocks.’

  ‘I can’t do everything at the same time. Der.’

  ‘So maybe Dov is not locked into cars. Maybe you could find a topic of mutual interest.’

  ‘It would be easier to find another person who was interested in apps dev. Like Tazza.’

  I met Hudson’s second new friend when I collected him from school to transport him to an appointment with the dentist. He did not walk out with Blanche, as he previously had, but with another girl.

  ‘Where’s Blanche?’ I said.

  He ignored my question. ‘Hey, Dad. This is Nadia. Is it okay if I go to her place today?’

  ‘You have a dentist appointment.’

  ‘Today? Are you sure? Can we change it?’

  ‘It’s difficult to change. Is it possible to reschedule the appointment with Nadia?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Nadia.

  ‘Aaargh,’ said Hudson.

  Blanche came out alone and I waved to her, but she didn’t wave back, presumably due to not seeing me.

  In the final week of the term, I received another call from the principal.

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve got a problem. Quite a serious problem. Hudson’s all right, physically, but he’s in the sick bay, and I’m going to have to ask you to come and get him.’