The Good Teacher Read online

  Now, Maz was sitting cross-legged on the rug in the lounge room building a Lego house big enough for Barbie to sit inside.

  ‘Bigger! Bigger!’ Gracie demanded, handing over another pile of red blocks.

  When she’d first arrived, the girl clutched Luke’s hand, but Maz had set up the toys and pretended to play by herself. Within minutes, Gracie sidled up next to her. As they chatted and played, Gracie draped her pale hand over Maz’s knee.

  ‘We’re going to build the biggest and best Barbie house in the world,’ Maz said. ‘And it will have windows at just the right height for Barbie to see out.’

  ‘Lucky Barbie.’ Gracie cradled the doll against herself. ‘I saw people KISSING out my window.’

  When Gracie shouted the word, everyone looked up. Mum shook her head; she still hadn’t been able to find a suitable rental for them.

  Luke raised his eyebrows. ‘Backpackers,’ he mouthed.

  ‘Oooh, kissing! I bet they were in love,’ Maz said to Gracie. ‘Who can Barbie fall in love with?’

  Gracie scooted over to the toy box and rifled through it. She found Ken, whose arms had been eaten off by the neighbour’s dog, and brought him back to Barbie.

  ‘Mwah, mwah.’ Gracie made kissing noises as she put Ken’s face next to Barbie. ‘Mummy and Daddy.’

  The poor kid. Luke said she missed her mum so much. Without thinking, Maz bent down and dropped a quick kiss on Gracie’s cheek. The girl was completely still for a moment, then she threw her arms around Maz’s neck.

  ‘She’s just adorable, Luke,’ her mother said, while Dad worked his way around the coffee table, refilling their drinks.

  Maz caught Kelli’s eye. The sisters knew exactly what each one was communicating. Kelli: Oh shit, Mum wants grandkids. Maz: Your turn first. I don’t even have a boyfriend. Kelli: Nate and I are into partying not parenting. But Luke’s a bit of all right. Potential boyfriend? Maz: He’s really nice but, you know, dead wife and sick child. Kelli: And don’t forget old. Maz: But fit.

  For dessert, Maz had prepared a fruit platter with watermelon cut into star shapes for Gracie. It was still in the fridge but Mum was tipping a box of chocolates into a bowl. Where had they come from?

  ‘Mum, we’re not doing sugar,’ Maz hissed. ‘Put them away.’

  To distract Gracie from the chocolates, Maz asked the girl to check if Barbie’s arms and legs would fit into the Lego house. And then she listened in to Kelli’s conversation. Her sister was asking Luke how he’d become a fitness instructor.

  ‘I started off as a swimmer,’ Luke said. ‘Squads every morning at five-thirty.’

  That explained his impressive shoulders and upper body.

  ‘I made it to the Commonwealth Games. Almost got to the Olympics. Just missed out.’

  Wow! She should tell Nico so he could add it to Luke’s bio at the gym. Imagine being good enough to go to the Olympics—top of the top. But Maz could hear the frustration in his voice: ‘almost’ didn’t cut it.

  ‘Impressive!’ Kelli grinned at Maz behind his back. ‘Did you meet some famous people?’

  Kelli shouldn’t have asked that; Luke could’ve been one of those famous people. Another Ian Thorpe. Michael Klim. Even his name sounded right for it. Luke Branson. Maz knew that training was as much a mental game as a physical one. All those hours in the pool, following the black line. Competing with teammates for the one spot. It took a mental toughness that few possessed.

  ‘Yeah.’ Luke chuckled. ‘I knew some swimmers. I met Michael Phelps once. Did you know he’s won the most Olympic medals of all time? Twenty-eight. Amazing!’

  ‘What was he like?’

  ‘He had a few great sayings. He told me that to get to the top, you have to do things that other people aren’t willing to do.’

  It was similar to one of their quotes at the gym, but Luke was looking at his daughter as he said it. Maz felt he wasn’t referring to swimming, but to saving Gracie.

  6

  ALLISON

  As Nadia sliced the lemon tart for dessert, Allison asked if she could stay the night. After another week where Felix had only come over once, Allison couldn’t bear being home alone. On a Saturday night. A night when she and Tony were supposed to have attended his colleague’s sixtieth birthday party in an Italian restaurant overlooking Sydney Harbour. Had her husband taken the new woman instead?

  ‘We can walk you home if you’re over the limit,’ Nadia said. ‘You can get the car tomorrow.’

  ‘Please?’ she begged. ‘I’d rather stay.’

  That morning, a dark green sedan had been parked opposite Allison’s house. She knew all the neighbours’ cars and it wasn’t one of theirs. It’d been there on Thursday afternoon too. Nadia would brush it off: Just kids going up into the bush tracks. But this wasn’t the sort of car driven by kids.

  If Allison was inside her house as darkness fell, she’d check each room and close the curtains as the light faded. But if she came home in the dark, she wouldn’t have a chance to prepare. When the curtains weren’t closed and she turned on the lights inside, she’d see herself reflected in the window panes, terror etched across her white face.

  In Nadia’s guest room, listening to the sounds of the family preparing for bed, Allison prayed for sleep to come easily. Although now she was worrying about money. Unlike her, Nadia loved playing with numbers, perfect for her job as a management consultant. Tonight, they’d worked on a spreadsheet listing Allison’s income and expenditure. Sixteen years ago, Allison and Tony had bought the house for a quarter of a million; Nadia estimated it would sell for six times that now. Allison needed around seven hundred thousand dollars to buy out Tony—an insane amount.

  After a night when she finally slept, Sunday morning was cooler and they walked Nadia’s dog along the length of Manly beach, around to the headland and back. Allison pointed out the grimy block of flats where Gracie and her father were living.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ Nadia made the dog sit so she could see better. ‘Everyone’s smoking there, and they’re probably doing drugs too.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about inviting them to stay,’ Allison said. ‘Just until they find somewhere else to live.’

  Nadia frowned. ‘I know you like to take in strays, but is now the right time for you?’

  ‘I need—’ a family to care for … someone in the house at night … a way to stop Tony … ‘—someone else to focus on.’

  ‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much?’

  Allison knew Nadia was choosing her words carefully. The subtext: You’re in a fragile, emotional state. You can barely look after yourself. What can you offer that poor girl?

  The front door was ajar when she arrived home mid-morning. Were the robbers brazen enough to ransack her place in full daylight? Taking a step back onto the path, Allison checked the street—two cars parked nearby; one was Tony’s four-wheel drive. If he wasn’t moving back home, why did he still have a key? Allison shoved the door open and voices drifted down from upstairs.

  ‘Sorry it’s a bit of a mess.’ Tony apologising for her. ‘Do you think we need professional styling?’

  ‘Definitely. I can suggest a lovely woman. And you’ll need to fix the pool, of course.’

  ‘Yes, yes. That will be sparkling.’

  Tony and a bloody real estate agent. She’d asked him to postpone the appointment. He’d emailed back some kind of automated meeting request which Allison hadn’t even opened.

  She stormed up the stairs and found them standing by her bed. The clothes she’d worn on Friday were draped over a chair. Her old beige bra had fallen onto the carpet. And, as luck would have it, she recognised the agent as a father from school.

  ‘Ah, here’s Allison,’ Tony announced.

  Gritting her teeth, she struggled for politeness towards the real estate agent.

  ‘Sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Thanks for coming but we’re not quite ready to sell yet. We’ll call you.’

  The two
men, dressed in their smart casual pants and open-necked shirts, glanced at each other. Allison knew that look: Here’s the crazy lady! Well, stuff them. Her name was on the deeds. Tony needed her signature to sell.

  ‘I’ll have a quick squiz around the garden and meet you downstairs.’ The agent hurried off into the corridor.

  ‘This is my house, Tony,’ she said. ‘I’m not selling.’

  ‘We can’t afford to keep it.’

  ‘You can’t afford to keep it.’ Allison tried not to shout. ‘You can’t afford to have two houses. This is all about what you want.’

  ‘I know it’s been a shock but we need to move on. It’s time.’

  ‘No. You don’t get to tell me when to move on.’

  He was standing against the window. Behind him, Allison could see the native forest, gum trees as tall as the house. She imagined running towards him, pushing him backwards. Watching him falling, falling. And then she imagined the opposite. Pulling him onto the bed. Their marital bed. Pulling him on top of her. The familiar outline of his body, his mouth on hers.

  If only she could hold on to the house, she could hold on to the hope that one day her family would come back together.

  ‘Allison, I haven’t handled this whole thing very well. It’s my fault. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am to have hurt you.’

  Words, words, words. He’d said them all before. But Tony wouldn’t listen to her words.

  ‘I want Felix to live here with me.’

  ‘Have you been watching my house, Allison?’

  The question came from left field. Her cheeks flamed in response.

  ‘I don’t even know where you live. You won’t tell me.’

  ‘You’re endangering us.’

  Now it wasn’t just her cheeks burning, heat flooded her whole body.

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Perhaps you should see a psychologist?’

  Tony had refused to go to marriage counselling but he wanted her to see a psychologist.

  ‘Get out of my bedroom, Tony!’ she shouted. Then, remembering the agent creeping around somewhere, she lowered her voice. ‘Get out of this house. And give me back the fucking key.’

  She held out her palm but her husband—former husband—strode past her, without handing it over.

  ‘If I see you near our house again, I’m calling the police,’ he said. ‘And Felix won’t be staying with you at all.’

  After school on Tuesday, Allison and Luke stood on the hot brick steps outside the kindy classroom, watching the children play.

  ‘She’s settling in really well,’ Allison told him. ‘Very talented at drawing and painting. A real artist!’

  He nodded distractedly. Was he even listening to her, or was he checking out Summer’s mother, who’d arrived in a short pink dress and very high pink heels? She’d do herself an injury tottering around the schoolyard in those. The woman strutted in front of them and bent down to pick up a schoolbag, exposing more of her toned thighs. Allison suddenly remembered that Summer’s parents had separated at the end of last year. What was the mother’s name? Tony wouldn’t, couldn’t, have fallen in love with her … could he? She was the complete opposite of Allison.

  Luke was talking and Allison tuned back in.

  ‘The thing is … we’ve had some blood tests … some bad results … really bad.’

  The man wasn’t looking at Summer’s mother. Like Allison, his mind was elsewhere.

  ‘Bad results,’ Allison repeated, giving him her full attention. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Does it mean a different kind of treatment?’

  ‘She’ll finish this round of chemo but we’ve run out of options in Australia.’ Luke put both hands on his head and stared upwards, into the sky. ‘Dr Rawson wants to get Gracie onto an immunotherapy trial in Chicago.’

  Allison glanced over at the little girl, who was creating a fairy garden of sticks with Evelyn and Summer. The girl with the bandana had started to open up; she told jokes and made her classmates laugh. Although, she was still having the occasional meltdown.

  ‘So, you’re going to Chicago?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He let out a long, deep breath. ‘The whole thing’s so expensive. I lost so much in the fire. We were only renting the farm and we weren’t properly insured. It’s not just the money though—the clinic isn’t keen to take a child. But Gracie’s condition is so rare that Dr Rawson is hoping they’ll accept her anyway.’

  Allison tried to ask the next question in the most delicate way.

  ‘And if she doesn’t get accepted?’

  ‘She needs to start the trial by May,’ he whispered. ‘It’s her only hope.’

  Oh dear God, no. With all that Luke was facing, it would’ve been easy for him to stop fighting. To lie down in the dirt and say: I give up. That was what Allison felt like doing. If she didn’t have to come to school to teach the Wirriga Wombats, she wouldn’t get out of bed each day.

  ‘Maybe we can start a fundraising campaign?’ Allison suggested.

  ‘That’s a kind thought.’ Luke slowly shook his head. ‘But I can’t ask people for money.’

  They both watched Gracie giggle as a pile of sticks collapsed. They couldn’t lose this girl, Allison thought, they just couldn’t.

  Despite Tony’s warning, Allison was again parked just up the road from his place in Curl Curl. With Felix’s cap on her head and the new haircut, she barely resembled her old self. Although, of course, Tony would recognise the car. She’d driven past at four-thirty on Wednesday afternoon, ten o’clock on Thursday night, and seven on Friday morning. No sign of the mystery woman. Perhaps she would appear now, at midday on Saturday.

  How could Allison win her family back when she didn’t even know what she was up against? No-one could tell Allison a thing about her. It was almost as if the woman didn’t exist. In all their time together, Tony had never behaved this way. Even at the beginning of their relationship, when he’d gone back to England after his student exchange, he’d written detailed letters every week, describing people and parties. Years later, when his friends and family had come over for the wedding, Allison felt she knew them all.

  Watching the house would not provide any answers—Allison knew that logically. I’m doing it for the safety of my son, she told herself. Much like the mystery woman, her son never came out of the front door either. He’d stayed with her for one night this week and brought Darcy over to play Xbox. While they’d been eating a late afternoon tea, the boys had suddenly asked about terminations.

  ‘We were talking about it in personal development today,’ Felix had said. ‘Is there, like, a time limit?’

  ‘I think twelve weeks,’ she’d answered slowly, wondering where this conversation was heading. ‘But if the pregnancy is further along, they can do a different sort of procedure.’

  Felix had never been interested in girls. Even when some of his friends started dating, he’d remained fanatical about soccer and surfing. Had all that changed in the last few months? He’d be so embarrassed if she brought up the subject of a girlfriend in front of Darcy.

  ‘Is it illegal?’ Darcy asked. ‘Someone in class said it was.’

  ‘No, it used to be.’

  A few months ago, she would’ve explained how New South Wales had been the last state to decriminalise abortion; she’d have given them an overview of women’s rights and men’s responsibilities. But her enthusiasm for imparting knowledge to the teens had waned. Instead, she wanted to interrogate Felix about the woman in the house. Who is she? What’s she like? Take a photo. Find out her name. Do I know her? Is she one of my friends?

  Staring at the house now, Allison saw a curtain twitch. The contents of her stomach did a quick somersault. Oh God, she’d finally see her replacement; see what was so special about this woman that Tony had been willing to discard their marriage with barely a backward glance.

  Come on, come on. Hurry up and show yourself.

  When her mobile beeped with an incoming text, Allison rea
lised she’d been holding her breath. If she looked down at the screen, would she miss the woman coming out of the door? With her gaze fixed on the house, Allison felt for the phone on the passenger seat. She brought it up to the window and held it in the same frame.

  The warning from Felix was written in capital letters.

  GO HOME NOW B4 DAD SEES U.

  Allison’s own house seemed even quieter than when she’d left that morning. Maybe she should get a dog to welcome her home and chase the night fears—and burglars—away? There’d been another break-in last week, just a few blocks away near her mother’s street.

  Sitting in the car had made Allison sweat. She yearned to jump in the pool but the water was still green. A cold shower would have to do—to wash away the shame that burnt with Felix’s text message. She stared into the bathroom mirror, pressing at the bags under her eyes, stretching out the lines on her forehead. ‘Fifty and fabulous,’ she’d toasted Nadia on her birthday last year. Allison’s toast would be: ‘Fifty and failed.’

  Moving her fingers to her jaw, Allison flattened the skin, checking closely for the two spiky black hairs to be plucked as soon as they made their hideous appearance. We should have tried harder for another baby. The thought came unbidden as always. The hair on the left had grown. Allison pincered it between her thumb and index finger and yanked. Damn, it slipped out. She really should buy some tweezers. After drying her hands on the towel, she plucked at it again. This time, the offending hair lay dark and incriminating against the flesh of her thumb. She turned on the tap and washed away the evidence.

  Allison had first discovered the black curling strand about six months ago. She’d shouted out to Tony in shock.

  ‘Oh my God, I’ve turned into a witch.’

  ‘You’ll be growing warts on your nose next,’ Tony joked.

  She hadn’t laughed. This was it. The Change, as her mother’s generation called it. A descent from busy, fertile mother to worn-out, infertile old lady. We should have tried harder for another baby. The thought had almost overwhelmed her as she’d checked her body for any other signs of menopause. It’d taken years to conceive Felix, even though the medical tests showed no problems. After Felix, she was thrilled to fall pregnant again quickly, but she’d miscarried at ten weeks. Felix was three, then four, then five years old. They tried half-heartedly. Allison was edging closer to forty. The job came up at Wirriga Public and it was too good not to apply. Allison delighted in shepherding the chubby-cheeked kindy kids through their first year of big school. Allison thought she had accepted her one-child family.