The Good Teacher Page 16

  Now, as she handed over her passport at the check-in counter, Allison’s heart was thumping. Oh dear God, this was a mistake. How could she possibly board this flight without Tony or Nadia next to her? The minute she was finished with the check-in, she’d take the Valium.

  And then she’d be going through security with her carry-on bag.

  Security. All at once it occurred to her: Allison had packed the herbal pills but she had no idea what they were. Would she be arrested before she even boarded the plane?

  23

  FELIX

  Felix flinched at the cool water seeping through his wetsuit and paddled into the break. Only a small crew this morning. Yesterday’s rain and the foamy backwash had put some off. But it’d be worth it for the clean little sets.

  The water reflected the grey skies. Grey below, grey above. Even the long beach was washed of colour—a dark beige instead of its usual sparkling gold. He used to see Luke and Maz jogging along the sand early on Sunday mornings. They blended in with all the other fit bods working out. Before Mum and Dad had split up, he mostly surfed at Queenscliff—easier to get to, but so many tourists and wannabes. Here at Curl Curl, he just had to watch out for the strong rip.

  A chopper buzzed overhead. Autumn, so it couldn’t be beach safety and shark monitoring patrols. Maybe a rescue helicopter heading for the hospital. Paddling hard for a left shoulder, Felix felt the power of the ocean surging around him. Then he was popping up. Balanced on the surf board, the curve of the water, the swish of his speed. Three seconds of perfection. Soaring, gliding, riding the sea.

  In and out, up and down, Felix could do this all day.

  Dad had left at seven-fifteen this morning, as usual. Felix had told Helena that sport was first period and he had surfing; she didn’t know his timetable.

  School. Who needed that shit today? He’d set up a fake Google account and sent an email. Felix Walsh is sick today and will not be attending. He should be better by tomorrow. Kind regards, Allison Walsh. They couldn’t check with Mum; she’d be in the air on the way to Chicago.

  Sitting on his board, he turned back towards the beach, counting the number of surfers. Ten and one just coming into the sea now. No-one hanging around the sand, apart from one woman spinning in a circle. Felix frowned and watched her. That was Maz. She’d ordered some more protein powder for him, along with a new performance enhancer, creatine. It was working—his quads and biceps were bulking up. Even Pearl had noticed. Next time Felix needed to do any kind of surf rescue, he’d be straight in, not freaking out about his lack of strength.

  Maz had made a promise not to tell his mum about the protein powder, nor Luke, who might accidentally mention it. Felix and Darcy took it in turns to pay for it. Dumb move by Darcy to steal from Luke’s wallet and Mum’s purse. Freaking obvious. But Felix forgave him.

  Darcy had been pretty stressed about his sister’s pregnancy. If his strict-as parents found out, they would’ve gone ballistic. Together, Darcy and his sister had got enough money in time for her to do the medical termination—two tablets. Otherwise it was going to be more money and full-on surgery. His sister didn’t bother telling the dope-head boyfriend; he had no cash to spare.

  Felix looked back at the sand. Maz was still there, spinning. Why was she dancing on the beach after Gracie had died?

  Cute little Gracie. Luke with a heart attack. Fuuuucckkkk. It happened to other people—on the news, whatever—but not to people living in his own house. At first, he’d hated that they were there, but then Luke was pretty chill. Gave Felix tips on training at the gym. Talked to him as one adult to another. Not like Mum and Dad, who treated him like he was still ten years old. And Gracie was funny. She loved telling him jokes. Why is Cinderella so bad at soccer? Because she always runs away from the ball. Sometimes Gracie laughed before she even got to the punchline.

  Felix did a duck dive, let the water wash over him.

  When Dad heard the news, he’d been sad for precisely ninety seconds.

  ‘Oh, how terrible. That drug was supposed to be the miracle cure.’

  Then he’d gone back to watching a climate debate on Four Corners. As if it was no big deal that a kid—a five-year-old—had just died. Helena had cracked open the door of the little bedroom and stood in the dark staring at her sleeping baby.

  Sleep didn’t happen for him last night; Felix had too much shit going through his head. Mum wouldn’t cope with this, not after everything else. She’d be devo. He should go and stay with her for a bit when she got back.

  Dad had blasted him yesterday, before they’d found out about Gracie. Why did you tell your mother about the baby? Felix couldn’t believe that it had taken Mum more than a month to bring it up. Couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been interrogating him every second day.

  And now, Dad was checking the doors more often. Peeking out at the street. He’d told them the letterbox was off limits; that didn’t matter because no-one was getting mail here anyway.

  Last night, Felix had caught the end of a conversation between Dad and Helena.

  ‘She keeps denying it. I’m starting to believe her.’

  Mum didn’t seem to get that her actions had been scaring them all.

  ‘But if it’s not Allison, does that mean he knows where we’re living?’

  Who was he? Should Felix be looking over his shoulder too? Felix just wanted life to go back to some kind of normal—a new normal, where Mum and Dad lived together by the beach and he could surf every day. That’d never happen though.

  Another set was coming in, hopefully he’d get a good one here. He nodded across at Jed, the plumber who seemed to spend more time on the waves than working. Felix understood: life was better out here. These guys were older than his school mates, they’d done stuff, been places. Maybe he and Jed could grab a bacon-and-egg roll from the cafe later. Analyse the waves, the tides, the sandbanks, the clouds, the rip, the forecast for tomorrow. Anything but what was rushing through Felix’s head.

  If a five-year-old girl could die, it could happen to anyone.

  24

  MAZ

  Maz steered her Barina up and around each ramp of the multistorey car park. Finally, on level seven, an empty spot appeared and she manoeuvred into it. Clients at the gym said the car park of the new hospital had an amazing view from the top. Glancing out, Maz noticed the orange sunset was bathing everything in a golden light—the ocean stretching from Manly to Palm Beach, the jagged skylines of Bondi Junction and the city. But Maz didn’t have time for an Insta post; she had to get inside to see Dad.

  The lobby’s atrium had coloured glass panels, like a hip office building, not a hospital. All shiny and new. Maz hadn’t taken much notice of the years of controversy—the destruction of natural forest, the closing down of the old hospital, the lack of supplies on opening. But now Dad was here, they’d better have sorted out the teething problems.

  As she followed the signs to Emergency, Maz slowed with each step. What state would Dad be in? She took a deep breath as the nurse pulled open the curtain surrounding her father’s bed.

  ‘Ah, here’s my girl.’ Dad smiled and held out his arms towards Maz. The action made him wince.

  Tubes snaked into his nose, and stickers and wires were poking out of the white hospital gown. They were linked to a machine that beeped every second or so. The colour of Dad’s face matched the grey of the nurse’s hair; she fussed around checking the monitor. Mum was sitting on the chair next to him, a magazine balanced on her lap. MEGHAN AND HARRY SPLIT UP shouted the front cover.

  Maz hugged Dad carefully, avoiding the tubes.

  ‘How’re you feeling?’

  ‘They’ve told me I’ve got the heart of an Olympic athlete,’ her dad boasted.

  Biting her lip, Maz said nothing.

  ‘An Olympic athlete who’s been put out to pasture.’ Dad laughed at his own joke, then winced again.

  Mum explained to Maz that he had chest pain and also nausea, which were symptoms of a heart attack
, though the doctors were investigating a range of potential causes.

  ‘So you might have had a heart attack?’ Maz asked.

  Just like Joseph. But Dad was here, conscious, talking.

  Dad nodded and avoided Maz’s eyes. Flipping hell, she’d said it to him so many times: Dad, you’re a heart attack waiting to happen. But he’d lost all that weight, he was getting healthy. Why would it happen now?

  Mum beckoned Maz closer and turned away from the bed slightly, the nurse a barrier between them and Dad.

  ‘Dad told the doctors that he’s been really stressed lately,’ Mum whispered.

  Now that Maz thought about it, her father had been grumpy in the last few weeks.

  ‘Apparently, they’re doing lay-offs at his work.’

  Oh shit, none of them wanted to go back to those days. At least she and Kelli were both working. And maybe Kelli would get a bonus tonight—she was at a fancy restaurant in Darling Harbour for the Fashionista sales awards and hoping to win top sales assistant.

  The nurse finished and disappeared out through the curtain. That woman was a saint for working here. Maz hated hospitals. Poor Gracie having to go every Friday. Maz wanted to inspire people so they didn’t end up in hospital. Empower them to look after their bodies. Sadly, so many people were self-sabotaging: I deserve a piece of cake instead of I deserve a healthy active body. And that was why Luke was so special: he wanted to make the world better, just like she did.

  Would he be too devastated to come onboard with her program?

  Dad was supposed to be their first success story.

  The curtain opened again and three people in green outfits appeared as if they were performing on stage.

  ‘We’re taking you up to Imaging, Rick.’ The nurse announced this like Dad had won some kind of prize. ‘They’re going to scan your heart.’

  Two of them unhooked the wires and tubes from the machine while the third bent down to unlock the wheels on the bed.

  Mum managed to blow a kiss to Dad as the curtain swished closed behind them.

  Two hours later, they’d admitted Dad into a ward; he was staying overnight. Maz thought that would make him feel worse but he was treating it like the best option.

  ‘One of the nurses called it an episode,’ Dad said.

  ‘Like an episode of Game of Thrones? Cool. You can be king of the Dothraki!’

  Oops, didn’t that character die in an early season? She shouldn’t have mentioned him, but there was a hint of a smile on Dad’s lips.

  ‘Luckily medicine has come a long way since then,’ Dad said. ‘You should’ve seen the CAT scan machine. Very sophisticated.’

  Eight o’clock. Maz was desperate to get home, delete her website and collapse into her own bed. She pictured Luke in hospital, just like Dad—lying flat under a white sheet, nurses popping by, but no visitors to cheer him up. Since she’d been at the hospital, dozens more messages had flooded in. Friends, colleagues, clients. She forwarded some to Luke, to make sure he understood how much everyone cared.

  As she was about to say goodnight to Dad, a man came into the room. Attractive, well-built, mid-thirties, wearing a sports jacket and dark trousers—the guy was familiar. He headed straight for Dad’s bed.

  ‘Hi there—Rick, isn’t it?’ He held out his hand to shake Dad’s. ‘I’m the cardiologist who’ll be reporting on your scans tomorrow. My name’s Colin Simmons.’

  Colin. From the gym. Em-Jay would not believe this.

  ‘Thanks for coming in so late to see me.’ Dad beamed at the specialist, suddenly brighter than he’d been for the past hour.

  ‘We want you to be comfortable and get some sleep. Let the nurse know if you’re in any pain. I’ll be in at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and I’ll see you then.’

  Dad nodded like a puppy dog wagging its tail. ‘Thank you so much, Dr Simmons.’

  Colin patted Dad on the shoulder, then smiled at Maz.

  ‘Nice to see you.’ He turned to Dad and explained. ‘I go to Wirriga gym. Your daughter looks sweet but she’s brutal in class. She pushes us hard!’

  Wasn’t it wrong to crack on to your patient’s daughter? She’d let him down gently before but she had to be even nicer to him now.

  ‘What a coincidence.’ Maz blushed. ‘I didn’t know you worked here.’

  ‘Ah well, if we’d had that drink …’ He grinned.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Maz mumbled. ‘As I said, I have a boyfriend.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m teasing you.’ He smiled again. In his work clothes, Colin appeared so professional, so knowledgeable. He’d been coming to her early classes most Saturday mornings for months now and he’d never been sleazy again. Hopefully, Colin could make Dad healthy.

  By the time she was home in bed, Maz felt it had been the longest day of her life. Those twirling sensations had morphed into one big mass stretching from under her ribs to her abdomen. Curling up in the fetal position helped a bit. She rubbed her belly then googled the time in Chicago. Five in the morning. She hadn’t spoken to Luke today, only texted. In case he was awake, all alone with his grief in a sleeping ward, Maz tapped out a message.

  Sending lots of hugs and kisses. At the hospital with Dad tonight, I was thinking of all your hospital visits with Gracie. You’re an amazing father. You did so much for her xxxxxxxxxxxx

  Maz didn’t know how to comfort Luke nor help Dad.

  A message popped up. As she’d guessed, he was awake. She opened the message. Two short sentences.

  It’s all my fault. I don’t know how to get through this.

  Luke could not give up, it wasn’t in his DNA. That was what had attracted Maz to him. Sure, Luke’s body was ripped and he had a great smile, but his attitude was ten out of ten. He gave everyone—particularly his daughter—a hundred and ten percent every time.

  And why was it his fault anyway?

  She pressed his number and held her breath. When the call was answered, Maz suddenly didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Luke, it’s me.’

  ‘Hey, babe.’ His voice—defeated, flat.

  ‘I know you’re hurting something bad. What can I do to help?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone can help.’ He sniffled. ‘This is too big.’

  ‘You’ve been through so much.’ Maz hesitated. ‘Do you want me to fly over?’

  She didn’t have a passport, couldn’t afford the time off work, wouldn’t be able to finance her birthday party if she spent her savings on a flight to Chicago, but she’d do it for him.

  ‘It’s okay, babe. Ally will be here soon.’

  Maz pushed the twinge of jealousy aside. Well, the schoolteacher could do all the grown-up organising stuff and then, when Luke was home, Maz would do all the physical comforting.

  ‘I’m here for you too.’ She tried to think of a motivational saying. ‘Remember that quote on the studio wall? When you decide not to surrender, that is strength.’

  ‘I’m so tired of the battle.’ He groaned. ‘What’s this about your dad being sick?’

  As Maz explained, Luke started consoling her; it made her feel guilty.

  ‘Don’t worry about Dad, that’s my job.’ She traced the seam of her doona cover. ‘Luke, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could for Gracie.’

  ‘Those pills …’

  Maz couldn’t breathe.

  ‘I didn’t tell the doctors,’ Luke muttered, ‘but I think they interacted—’

  ‘You said you spoke to Dr Rawson.’

  All Maz’s research had been online; Luke had promised to check with the specialists.

  ‘I thought they wouldn’t take her on the clinical trial if they knew.’ Luke hesitated. ‘I didn’t tell Dr Mercado.’

  25

  ALLISON

  At last, Allison was out of the cramped aeroplane and onto American soil—the Valium had done its job. A number of flights must have landed around the same time; she was swept along in a mass of humanity towards LAX Passport Control. At the edge of her vi
sion, Allison spotted the police in their dark uniforms, their guns strapped to their bodies. So many of them, watching everything. Instead of making her feel safer, they made her more nervous. Avoiding eye contact, Allison queued up behind a Korean family for the passport scanner machine. Snippets of different languages floated in the air. Eventually, it was her turn to scan her passport and her fingerprints. Like a criminal. When the machine spat out the piece of paper, she looked like a drug mule in her photo. Oh God, would they let her into the country? These days, they used any excuse to turn foreigners away. That Australian children’s author had been detained for having the wrong visa even though it was the right one.

  Allison moved on to the next queue. It snaked around and around with tired travellers rocking on the spot. Tension hung above them like an invisible mist. Off to her left, Allison heard shouting. A tight circle of officers, their shirts emblazoned with DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, were dragging off a scruffy young guy. Allison staggered forward to the counter with her passport and print-out.

  ‘What’s the purpose of your visit?’ The officer demanded.

  ‘Holiday.’ Allison tried to smile through her lie. ‘Vacation.’

  ‘Are you travelling alone?’

  Why can’t a woman of forty-nine holiday alone … is there a law against that?

  ‘My friend is already in Chicago. I’m meeting him tonight.’

  Not at a wine bar. In the hospital. Later at the morgue.

  ‘How long are you intending to stay?’

  ‘Ten days.’

  ‘Are you here for work?’

  ‘No, not work.’ Was he trying to trick her? She repeated what she’d said before. ‘A holiday.’

  Finally she was through. But the next checkpoint was Customs with her suitcase, where she must declare all food and drugs.

  She stood still as the throng ebbed and flowed around her. Think logically, she told herself. Despite her worry, the pills had passed through Australian security without question. Presumably they would have taken them if they were illegal. But as a schoolteacher, she couldn’t afford to get arrested. If she lost her job, she’d lose the house. Then she would’ve lost everything.