Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(68)

‘The teacher started talking to him about the extraordinary mathematical ability she’d demonstrated in just one day. She showed him the sums she’d completed, and I always remember that he dropped my hand to listen.’

The sad smile returned as she relived the memory. Kim wondered at the symbolism of that one small act for it to have remained a memory for over sixty years.

‘I watched him that night when we got home. I sat on the sofa and watched him testing her and quizzing her. My mother watched too, clapping her hands in delight when my father turned the calculator to show that Belinda was getting the answers right.’

The story was about the younger girl, but Kim’s attention was on the girl sitting on the sofa, watching.

‘Eventually, Belinda got bored and turned back to her toys. Our parents went to the kitchen and talked privately. But that was the day everything changed. From then on, my father tested her every night.’

‘Is that when Jemima was thrown out?’ Kim asked.

Veronica nodded, looking surprised that she’d remembered.

‘Eventually he started going to the school to see how her education was being handled. He wanted her to advance through the years more quickly, but the school couldn’t oblige.’

‘Why not?’ Kim asked, as she realised the room was emptying around them.

‘Because she lacked in other areas, Inspector. Her English was below average and her ability to retain other subjects was poor at best.’

‘Really?’ Kim asked, surprised. She’d assumed a child genius excelled at every subject.

‘My father didn’t believe them; felt they were holding her back. So, he took us out of school and gave up his job to teach us. He devised a curriculum whereby he could hone her mathematical ability and work her hard to catch up in other areas. I just learned whatever he was teaching Belinda.’

‘Why did your father take you out of school?’ Kim asked, not unkindly.

‘Because by this time my father believed Belinda’s gift was genetic and that I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I was lazy. Anyway, he began reading about the father of Maria Agnesi.’

Kim shook her head.

‘Maria Agnesi was born in the eighteenth century. She was a walking polyglot and spoke seven languages fluently by the time she was thirteen. She also excelled in mathematics and philosophy. Her younger sister was a musical prodigy, and her father arranged entertainment evenings.’

Jesus, Kim thought. It seemed he’d done more than study Agnesi. From what they’d learned of the sisters’ childhood her father had pretty much modelled himself on the man.

‘Some believe that prodigious talent arises from innate talent of the child. And some believe the environment plays the dominant role. My father decided to leave nothing to chance. At first my mother tried to object but eventually he just overruled her.’

‘And how was that, the home learning?’

‘My father turned the dining room into a classroom: two desks, a blackboard, shelves full of books, pictures replaced with world maps and periodic tables. All stimulus was removed and if we were caught looking out the window the blind was drawn.’

‘But, how was it?’ Kim asked, again. She could now picture it but she wasn’t interested in the décor of the room.

‘Probably took me longer to adjust. I’d been at school for a few years and had friends.’

There was no bitterness in her tone, just acceptance.

‘And the one good thing about school, Inspector, is that it ends at a certain time every day.’

‘He worked you hard?’ Kim asked.

‘Oh yes, and took away other toys as encouragement or punishment, whichever way you want to look at it.’

‘That’s harsh,’ Kim said, remembering something from the post-mortem.

‘Any physical incentives?’ she asked.

‘I’m guessing you already know that or you wouldn’t ask,’ she said.

‘A ruler edge across the knuckles?’

‘And the back of the head,’ Veronica said, touching the nape of her neck. ‘The first time he did it was because I’d made Belinda laugh with a funny face while he was out the room and she couldn’t stop giggling once he returned. It was one of those fits that the more you try to stop the more you laugh. She couldn’t stop, and he rapped her knuckles with the ruler in frustration and that then became the focus tool, if you like, but that’s not what I remember the most about that first time.’

Kim waited.

‘It was my mother standing in the doorway. I looked at her hopefully, sure she would say or do something, and for a moment I thought she was going to, but she turned and walked away.’

‘He sounds like a monster to be honest,’ Kim observed.

Veronica shook her head. ‘He wasn’t. He was never the most loving father but this gift of Belinda’s compelled him to make the most of it, to explore and hone it. I’m not saying he was perfect but he wasn’t a monster.’

Loyal even now, Kim observed, despite the fact that his actions had shaped the lives of both sisters.

Kim tried to imagine what it had been like for Veronica, taken form a normal school environment, away from friends, play and interaction to the cloistered, solitary existence created by her father.

‘He tried so hard to mould us despite the fact that studies indicate that prodigiousness in childhood is not a strong indicator of later success. Child prodigies rarely grow into adult geniuses. There’s a window of time during which it’s interesting.’