The Good Teacher Page 13

  ‘Lovely manners, sweetheart.’

  Sometimes, with all the attention, Gracie was not so lovely. One recess, Allison had caught the girl standing by the canteen, telling the children at the back of the queue that they should donate their money to her. A few of them had already handed over their coins; two of them were arguing, and another had begun shoving Gracie out of the way.

  Allison was pouring the milk into a plastic cup when she heard her mobile ding. A message from the president of Wirriga soccer club. We’ve just donated the BBQ money. $3800. All the best to Gracie.

  The club had pledged its takings from the summer soccer barbecues on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights, along with some gala days and registration events. Allison opened the laptop and added the donation to the tally on the website, as Maz had shown her.

  ‘Oh my God, Gracie. We’ve done it!’

  ‘What?’ The little girl was licking sprinkles from her fingers. Green and blue balls stuck to her nose.

  Allison turned the laptop around to show her the tally line, now fully orange all the way along with no grey section waiting to be filled. A brand-new tagline shouted: GOAL ACHIEVED: $140,702 of $140,000 goal. It had been a crazy four weeks of fundraising but Wirriga had made magic happen.

  ‘We can get you to the special clinic in America!’

  Allison pulled Gracie off the stool and twirled her around the kitchen.

  ‘Are we dancing, Lally?’

  ‘Yes, we’re dancing! We have enough money for the plane and the hospital and the doctor.’

  ‘Yay! Can you come with me and Daddy?’

  Allison desperately wanted to go. To be Gracie’s stand-in mother. But Luke might not want her there after she’d jeopardised his daughter’s health. And, of course, there was Allison’s fear of flying. And the question of money. She couldn’t afford it. How would it look if the ‘fundraising manager’ used the funds for her own ticket?

  ‘You’ll only be away for one month.’ Allison cuddled the girl. ‘And when you come back, you’ll feel so much better!’

  ‘One month.’ Gracie grinned. ‘One month is thirty days.’

  Allison had been teaching them about time in class.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ve done it!’ Allison danced Gracie around the kitchen again.

  On Friday evening, balloons and streamers dotted Allison’s lounge room. Thirty of Gracie’s Gang held their glasses high and toasted the little girl. Allison, Nadia and Shona had champagne while Maz and the gym crowd were drinking cranberry mocktails. Felix had poured lemonade for his mates, and apple juice for the children. Maz’s parents were cuddling Gracie on the couch; the girl was trying to escape and join the other kids.

  ‘Speech! Speech!’ Maz clapped her hands and stared adoringly at Luke.

  ‘Thank you everyone for creating Gracie’s Gang and making this happen.’ He sniffed back a tear. ‘When Dr Rawson first mentioned immunotherapy, I was over the moon. But then he told me the cost and I didn’t know how I’d ever come up with that kind of money—especially after everything we’ve been through. But you guys have done it. Thank you especially to Allison and Maz.’

  Allison stood up before Maz had a chance to respond.

  ‘Our small suburb has conjured up a miracle for little Gracie.’ Allison held out her arms to encompass them all. ‘And we’ve done it without a major sponsor in sight. I couldn’t be prouder of this community and Wirriga Public School.’

  ‘It just shows that every single dollar counts,’ Maz interrupted. ‘And I feel that we’re following my favourite motto, which is to create your own destiny. We’re doing that for Gracie. Creating a destiny for her.’

  Maz’s motto made no sense in this context; no-one wanted cancer in their destiny.

  ‘This will be our front-page news.’ Curtis raised his voice to be heard over the excitement. ‘The power of the people to make dreams come true.’

  ‘What was Dr Rawson’s reaction?’ Shona asked.

  ‘He said, “I never doubted you’d do it.”’ Luke chuckled. ‘And he was also relieved because everything is planned and ready to go. Here’s to Chicago!’

  Everyone raised their glasses again and shouted, ‘Good luck in Chicago, Gracie!’

  18

  ALLISON

  Term 2, May

  ‘Welcome back, my wonderful wombats.’

  Allison smiled at her class of twenty-three children; only one missing. Some had damp fringes, their hair plastered in straight lines across their foreheads. Rain dripped down the windowpanes and beat a steady drum on the roof. A cold wetness had settled in the small gap between Allison’s trouser leg and her left shoe. No-one was ever prepared for rain on the first day of term. At least inside the classroom shimmered with colour—the silver starfish mobiles hanging from the ceiling, the coral reef collages stuck to the walls. The heavy coastal rain made it feel like they were actually living in their under-the-sea theme.

  ‘Did everyone have a lovely holiday?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Walsh.’ A chorus of voices.

  ‘My granny took me to Sea World,’ Zack called out. ‘I saw dolphins jump in the air. They can talk!’

  Allison had read his father was in jail, awaiting trial—he hadn’t been granted bail.

  ‘Yes, Zack, dolphins are very intelligent. Thank you for sharing. Let’s remember to put our hands up before speaking.’

  Instantly, Evelyn’s arm shot into the air. ‘Mrs Walsh, I think I forgot my lunch.’

  Anxious Evelyn. Her sandwich would’ve been carefully wrapped by her mother and put inside her lunchbox into her bag. But if Evelyn didn’t look now, she’d be edging towards the door, asking over and over, distracting the class.

  ‘I’m sure it’s there, Evelyn.’ Allison smiled at her. ‘But why don’t you have a quick check?’

  The girl’s next worry would be the empty chair beside her. Having a classmate with cancer had increased her anxiety a thousandfold.

  ‘Wonderful Wombats, come onto the mat and we’ll take it in turns to talk about our holidays.’ Allison beckoned them over to the sky-blue rug. ‘When you’re all sitting nicely, I’m going to start with some great news about Gracie.’

  At six-fifteen this morning, when the radio alarm blared into the darkness, Allison had at first confused the pitter-patter of the rain with the sound of Luke showering. Lying there, cocooned in her doona, she’d ached for that first weekend of the school holidays. Gracie creeping into her bedroom and pretending to whisper: Are you awake, Lally? One morning, dancing around the bed, singing ‘Let It Go’, high-pitched and sweet and awfully off-key.

  Instead of Gracie’s giggles this morning, it was the radio news. In the continuing fallout from the banking royal commission, another CEO has had his contract terminated with an alleged payout of one and a half million dollars. Allison had jabbed at the button to silence it. Over a million dollars for an unscrupulous banker to spend on sports cars and houses when it could be used on research and medicine to save countless lives.

  ‘Listen up, everyone.’ Allison waited for the children to settle on the mat before continuing. ‘Remember how Gracie was going on the plane to America in the school holidays?’

  At the end of last term, the solar-powered school sign had flashed out a message: GOOD LUCK IN CHICAGO, GRACIE!!!!! Curtis had taken a photo of Gracie underneath the sign for the Northern Beaches News.

  ‘She’s at the hospital over there and she’s had three infusions now. An infusion is a medicine put inside her body. It’s all going really, really well and Gracie feels great.’

  Three infusions down, nine to go. Depending on the blood counts and scans, another round in four months. Thank God, they hadn’t closed the website after they’d achieved the goal; donations were still coming in and the extra money could go towards the second round.

  ‘Can we send her a photo?’

  ‘Good idea, Ty. Let’s squish together on the rug so you all fit in the frame. We’ll do a smiling photo and then one with crazy faces
. Ready?’

  After Allison had taken the photos, she showed them a picture of Gracie smiling on the Navy Pier Ferris wheel, with the Chicago skyscrapers behind her shimmering in the sun. Gracie would’ve loved being up so high. In her arms, she held Winnie the Wombat—the class had sent the mascot along with her to America for good luck.

  Anxious Evelyn piped up: ‘Is she all better now?’

  ‘Almost. She needs a few more infusions. Let’s send her the crazy picture and she might reply before the end of the day.’

  Underneath the photo, Allison typed: Good luck, Gracie! Love from the Wirriga Wombats.

  Late last night, Luke had called with praise for the clinical team: ‘They’re so sweet with Gracie. They make it into a game.’ He was focusing on the positives, trying to keep Gracie’s fear at bay. ‘She’s blowing you a kiss down the phone, Ally, and said she’ll see you in two weeks, which is—hold on, Gracie’s working it out … nope, she doesn’t have enough fingers.’ Luke had laughed before repeating her words: ‘Half a whole month.’ Gracie’s funny words and Luke’s deep chortle had made them feel present in the house. But at two in the morning, Allison was awake, hot with a night sweat and the shame of her thoughts. If the infusions work and Gracie gets better, they’ll move out. I’ll sell the house. What will become of me then?

  She wouldn’t be surprised if Tony marched in the real estate agents while Gracie was in America. In one of his texts, he’d accused her of stalking again, parking her car outside his house on the day Gracie had flown out. I wasn’t even on the Northern Beaches for most of Monday, she replied. After the emotional farewell at the airport, Emmanuel had driven to her house, picked her up and taken her out to dinner. Like an old-fashioned gentleman. She’d stayed the night at his place in Neutral Bay and, this time, she’d studied his apartment, wondering what it would be like to create a new home, a new life.

  When her phone rang at recess, Allison was surprised to see Tony’s number flash up. He’d only call if something had happened to Felix. His complaints were all by text. She slipped out of the fire exit at the back of the staffroom and leant against the brick wall, out of sight of both staff and students.

  ‘Is Felix all right?’ she asked before he could speak.

  ‘What?’ One word of irritation. ‘Yes, he’s fine.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Allison, I’ve called the police again. You’re insane.’

  ‘I told you I wasn’t even in the area that day.’

  Should Allison admit that she’d stayed overnight with another man? Would that shock Tony into silence?

  ‘I can’t believe you sent that letter,’ Tony went on. ‘It’s awful. Why would you scare us like that? All of us.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The threats you made in that letter.’

  ‘I didn’t write any letter,’ she hissed, her hand shielding her mouth from any busybodies around the playground. ‘Not this one, not the last one. Stop trying to manipulate me to sell the house.’

  ‘It’s in your handwriting. You’ve gone crazy.’

  ‘I know about the baby, Tony.’

  That stopped him for a moment. She heard a deep intake of breath.

  ‘How do you know? Who’ve you told?’

  Not: I’m sorry for having an affair. For having a baby with another woman when we couldn’t have one. You must be devastated.

  ‘Are you using Felix for free babysitting? Is that why you won’t let him come home?’ She responded to his questions with her own, unable to ask the one she really wanted—How could you do this to me?

  ‘Who’ve you told?’ Tony repeated. ‘It’s important, Allison.’

  Because he was ashamed?

  ‘Nadia.’

  ‘Please, don’t tell anyone else. I’m sorry I’ve been so secretive. It’s a DV situation. Change of name, change of address and so on.’

  He made it sound so professional. Not like it really was. Unethical. Inappropriate. Completely wrong.

  ‘What? You ran off with a client? You had a baby with her!’ She couldn’t keep her voice down now. ‘Oh my God, you should be struck off.’

  ‘No, no, it’s not like that. I never took advantage of her. I helped her out. Her husband went ballistic after the baby arrived.’

  Had her principled, honourable husband slept with his client while he was still married to Allison?

  ‘Your baby?’

  ‘NO!’ She could hear him striding around his office. ‘Is that why you sent the letter? Because you thought the baby was mine?’

  ‘I didn’t write any bloody letter!’

  Above Allison’s head, the school bell clanged. She ended the call without saying goodbye. Took five slow breaths before reentering the staffroom. Now it all made sense. The suddenness of his leaving, the secrecy, his furious reaction about her so-called stalking. Protecting the woman and her baby, protecting his reputation. Presumably the staff at the women’s shelter didn’t know; it would be against all the rules. But how could Tony have trusted his son with this information and not his wife of twenty-four years? Bastard. Did he think that, in her state of abandonment, she’d leak it, ruin his career?

  And what about Helena’s ex-husband? Was he controlling? Or physically violent?

  Tony had put their son at risk.

  If Allison hadn’t been the one writing the letters and hadn’t been the one sitting outside their house recently, then who was the person watching them?

  During the next period, Allison found it hard to focus on teaching as she tried to figure out the situation. Was Tony worried about Helena’s ex-husband or sure that he wouldn’t find her? Tony had stayed away from Wirriga, from all their old friends. Was the man someone they knew? While she asked the class to think of words beginning with the letter H, her thoughts looped around and around. H for House. H for Home. H for Happy. Husband. Heinous. Hazardous. Hateful. Hostile.

  By the time the bell rang at lunch, Allison couldn’t see the other side of the oval for the torrents of rain. The hollow next to the toilet block had turned into a pond. Puddles dotted the playground, the basketball court was a slick of dark green. An announcement over the loudspeaker informed everyone they’d be staying inside today.

  ‘Please get your lunchboxes from your bags,’ Allison said, ‘and come down onto the rug.’

  Lunch in the classroom would send them all mad, particularly on the first day of term. The hyperactive ones were tumbling puppies who needed their daily exercise to stay calm inside.

  Within ten minutes, the noise was bouncing off the ceiling.

  ‘Zack took my apple.’

  ‘Where’s the red Lego?’

  ‘Can I have a fairy picture?’

  Searching through her folder of colouring-in sheets, Allison realised she’d given all the fairies to Gracie to keep her occupied on the plane. She found a hot-air balloon and handed it to Selina. This morning, when a group of kindy parents had asked about Gracie, Selina’s mother wanted to know more about the infusions.

  ‘It’s a new drug,’ Allison had explained. ‘They give a small dose every few days.’

  ‘Immunotherapy didn’t help my brother.’ Selina’s mother shook her head sadly. ‘It’s meant to be a wonder drug but it doesn’t work for everyone.’

  Allison had nodded her understanding while silently imploring: Please don’t tell me your negative cancer story.

  ‘Well, there are all kinds of immunotherapy drugs,’ Allison had said. ‘This is a different type.’

  The type to bring hope.

  Selina gathered a handful of crayons for her hot-air balloon and began colouring. After Allison had divided the pile of Lego between four children, she opened her bag to take out her sandwich. And for a quick peek at her mobile. Had Tony called back or set a lawyer on to her? Had Gracie replied to their photo?

  The screen was busy but not with text messages.

  Eleven missed calls from Luke.

  Whatever Luke had to tell her could not be sai
d in a recorded message. Five times Allison called him back. No answer. By then, she was home, on to her umpteenth cup of tea, prowling the empty rooms of the house. Each time she went to add milk to her mug, Allison stood staring at the sparkly heart frame stuck to the fridge: her and Gracie at Luna Park. The sky blue above them, the Harbour Bridge in the background, their faces glowing. That day, she’d had Gracie to herself; they’d gone on the merry-go-round, bumbled through the maze of mirrors in Coney Island and whizzed down the big slides on sacks. Then Gracie had asked about the Ferris wheel.

  ‘I don’t think our ticket covers that ride,’ Allison had said.

  ‘Oh.’ A sigh of disappointment. ‘Daddy says it’s a bird’s-eye view.’

  Gracie had been on a high all day and, just like that, Allison had punctured her joy with a lie. A pin popping a balloon.

  ‘The truth is, sweetheart—’ the Ferris wheel seemed to sway above her ‘—I’m scared of heights.’

  ‘What do you call a bird that’s scared of heights?’ Gracie rushed out the joke that she’d told many times before.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘A chicken!’ Gracie had laughed. ‘Birds can’t be scared of heights. And not you, Lally. Grown-ups aren’t scared.’

  ‘Well, grown-ups can be scared.’ Allison took a deep breath. ‘I’m scared to go on that Ferris wheel.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Lally. I’ll look after you.’

  Allison’s legs had trembled as she stepped from the platform into the carriage. Gracie’s hand snaked into hers and held it tight. Up in the sky, heart hammering, stomach queasy, Allison had to keep her eyes fixed straight ahead on the horizon. Afterwards, they’d bought a bucket of hot chips and chocolate gelato. Not on Luke’s approved list but she needed them to settle her tummy. Slurping on her gelato, Gracie had echoed one of Luke’s gym phrases: ‘You did good!’

  The mobile rang while Allison was staring out of the sliding doors, watching the rain in the gum trees. The leaves glossy green with the wetness, the trunks orange-red.

  ‘Ally …’ Luke said. His words dissolved into soft sobs.