The Good Teacher

by Petronella McGovern

‘Thanks again for helping,’ Allison said. ‘I wish Luke would call back. I’m sure he’ll explain everything.’

  Or would he? He’d lied about the pills.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I overheard your conversation earlier …’ Violetta paused for a moment. ‘Dr Mercado doesn’t have kids.’

  ‘Is there another doctor with a similar name?’

  ‘I guess your girl could’ve gone to the university hospital or the children’s one,’ Violetta said. ‘I’ll phone them for you.’

  Had Dr Mercado sent Gracie to a different clinic, one that specialised in children, after all? To a specialist with a daughter who loved Frozen?

  But listening to Violetta’s side of the conversation as she called one clinic then the other, Allison could work out what they were telling her.

  No-one had heard of Gracie Branson.

  27

  MAZ

  Seven fifty-five in the morning. Maz had rung Nico and swapped shifts so she could be at the hospital with Mum for the discussion with Dad’s specialist.

  ‘How’re you doing, Rick?’ Dr Simmons checked the chart at the end of Dad’s bed as he spoke, his attention solely focused on his patient. ‘Good, your heart has settled down. Did you manage to sleep?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘Great. So, I’ve had a look at your scans this morning and I’d like to do an angiogram.’

  Dad gripped at the bedsheets. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘We inject a dye so we can see the blood vessels. It’ll give us a good picture of any blockages or heart disease.’

  The doctor sounded so calm and rational, taking it step by step. But Maz couldn’t wait for the steps.

  ‘Will Dad die?’ she blurted out.

  Colin turned to her. Intelligent, caring face, a brain full of the knowledge and skills that would help her father.

  ‘He’s going to be okay, Maz. We’ll work out the cause of this attack so we can make him healthier for the future.’

  ‘Sorry, our friend’s daughter just died. Of cancer.’ And Joseph. I couldn’t save either of them. ‘We’re all upset.’

  ‘Gracie?’ he asked.

  Maz nodded.

  ‘She had a rare cancer with an unusual set of complications,’ Colin said. ‘We were all wishing for the best outcome for her.’

  When Maz had rung Nico about changing shifts, he’d asked when the funeral would be. Apparently clients wanted to know. The thought of the whole community crying together over Gracie made her legs shake. Maybe Luke couldn’t face it either. Maybe he’d stay in America.

  ‘Did you know Gracie?’ Mum was asking the doctor.

  ‘Not the young girl herself but I met Luke at the gym and helped him out with a few medical things. Very sad.’

  Of course he knew Luke. Everyone in Wirriga knew Luke and his sick daughter.

  ‘Gracie was very special to us,’ Mum said.

  Mum told the doctor a long story about them taking Gracie on the Manly ferry into the city. They’d walked around the Opera House and had lunch at an outdoor cafe, with the seagulls swooping their plates. Maz remembered another moment—Luke racing her to the top of the steps. He’d won, as he did with every race. They’d kissed in the shadow of the Opera House sails. Somewhere on her phone was a selfie of them leaning up against the white tiles, arms entwined. That night, she’d heard him say to Allison, ‘I promised to take Sarah to the Opera House. But I never did.’

  Since their trip to Avoca, he’d opened up more about Sarah, but Maz didn’t ask much, not wanting to cause him further pain. She knew his wife had died trying to save her horses. Without telling Luke, she’d googled and found Sarah’s memorial page. Tragic.

  When Mum finally finished her story, Colin turned to Maz.

  ‘Your father’s very proud of you,’ he said. ‘He told the doctor in ER that his super-healthy, super-fit daughter had chosen some supplements for him.’

  Maz wanted to run. Away from the ward. Down the long corridor. Out through the shiny lobby. Along the main road still full of diggers and witches hats and workmen in high-vis. Run, run, run. Far from here.

  She managed to nod.

  ‘Do you know off the top of your head what he’s been taking?’ ‘I’ll have to check at home.’

  ‘Okay. Can you give me the names later today?’ Colin glanced down at his pager, ready to move on to the next patient. ‘I assume you bought the supplements locally. The ones from overseas don’t always list the ingredients.’

  Last night, she’d read the letter again. Prosecute offenders. Ten years’ imprisonment.

  But she was only trying to help the people she loved. And Dad had lost twelve kilos on her eating and exercise plan. Maz had bought him a funky new shirt for his birthday that he could wear for the ‘after’ photo shoot. They’d done the ‘before’ shots at the park. For once, Maz had asked Curtis to take an unflattering picture. ‘When you photograph Dad,’ she’d whispered, ‘do it from a really bad angle and make him look as fat as possible.’ Curtis had burst out laughing, but he’d done a great job of capturing every one of Rick’s many kilograms.

  In those early days, Maz had given him a few capsules to kickstart the weight loss. She knew that success breeds success. If Dad got off to a flying start, he’d see the difference immediately and want to keep going. Mum didn’t like taking any tablets, not even paracetamol, so Maz hadn’t offered any to her.

  For Mum’s ‘after’ shot, Maz was hoping that her sister could borrow a dress from the boutique.

  And then Maz needed someone younger, a woman who’d gone from wearing an enormous ugly blouse to a slinky red dress. Those were the transformations that inspired others.

  Could any of it still happen?

  When Mum disappeared off to the visitors’ toilet down the corridor, Maz finally had a moment alone with her father.

  ‘Dad, were you still taking the pink pills?’

  ‘I dunno, love, I just swallowed what you said. You’re the boss.’

  Dad was staring at the tiny television. Onscreen, a politician chatted with factory workers at a barbecue. He held up a burnt sausage in a roll, slathered with tomato sauce.

  ‘Bet he doesn’t eat that once the cameras are off,’ Dad said. Then he turned his focus on Maz. ‘What’s the problem with the pink tablets? Are they the ones that stop you feeling hungry?’

  Maz thought her father hadn’t listened to her explanation for each pill; it seemed like he had.

  ‘No problem.’ She smiled. ‘Just trying to work out what you were taking.’

  ‘I wanted to make you proud, love. Be a success for your program.’

  ‘You’ve been awesome, Dad!’

  But still, he’d ended up here.

  ‘Don’t tell your mother about the pills.’ Dad was fussing with the small cup of water on his tray table. ‘She thinks it was all my own hard work.’

  ‘So were you still taking the pink ones?’

  ‘Yep, pretty regularly.’

  Too often?

  ‘Okay, I’ll write a list for the doctor and bring it in.’

  Dad reached out and patted Maz’s arm. ‘Don’t worry, love. It’s nothing to do with your pills. It’s those layoffs at work. They’ve put stress on my heart. Maybe I should sue the bastards?’

  With her ancient laptop on the kitchen table, Maz cranked up Rita Ora’s song, ‘Let You Love Me’. Sang along to every word. Maz wished that she was with Luke. Wished Gracie was alive. Wished Dad was happy and healthy at home. Wished that Smokey was curled up beside her now, a soft fluffy ball of comfort.

  On her website, Maz had two photos of Gracie—a kind of before and after. In the first, she was bald and not smiling, wearing a hospital gown; it was an old picture from Luke. In the second, Gracie floated through the air on the swings at Manly beach, the sea sparkling behind her. Dressed in a bright purple t-shirt and shorts. Her head covered by a pink beanie with shiny hearts.

  Bio-Antidotes have been helping Gracie to liv
e a Better Life.

  Gracie has a rare cancer which has spread through her lymph nodes. Together with the medicines from the hospital, our awesome antidotes are giving Gracie’s body the strength to fight this disease. The antidotes are boosting her immune system so that all parts of her body are stronger.

  Gracie is seeking further treatment in America and needs our help to get there. Bio-Antidotes will donate 10% of every sale to Gracie’s campaign. You can also donate by clicking on this link.

  Note: If you are having chemotherapy or any other treatment, please seek medical advice before taking Bio-Antidotes.

  She’d added that last line to cover herself. Luke said he’d spoken to Dr Rawson about the supplements and she was sure he must have; he was so protective of Gracie’s health. But then he hadn’t told Dr Mercado.

  According to Colin, overseas supplements didn’t always list every ingredient. Was that why she’d got the letter from Australian Border Force? A quick online search brought up an article on a Chinese medicine that included a poisonous herb banned by the USA. The poisonous herb wasn’t listed as an ingredient, and it had been linked to cancer! The article ended with this message: There is a common misconception that because these remedies are ‘natural’, they are healthy. This is not so. They need to be treated like medicines, with testing, medical trials, regulations and labelling laws. Consumers need to know that the drugs they are taking are legal and safe.

  Why hadn’t she seen all this when she’d been researching which supplements to import?

  With shaking fingers, Maz clicked on to the site manager menu of her Bio-Antidotes website and pressed the button—Unpublish Site Now. After tapping to confirm, she went back online. Refreshed the page.

  Thank God, the website was gone.

  Now she had to ring her clients.

  The Northern Beaches News arrived in her letterbox after lunch with Curtis’ story on page three. Maz scrutinised the photo of herself, sitting on the front wall staring down the street. She had a funny expression on her face, a half-smile, turned down at the sides, with sadness in her eyes. She’d had to fight that automatic urge to smile.

  Maz found her quote in the midst of a section about Nico’s gym. It included the picture of Gracie in her tiny gym outfit.

  Luke’s workplace, the Wirriga Wellness Club, has also been instrumental in raising funds. One of the gym instructors, Marilyn Humphrey, expressed her shock about Gracie’s death.

  ‘We were so sure this treatment would work,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe that Gracie’s not coming back. If only love and support could make a sick person better, then Gracie would be here with us today. She had the love of a whole community.’

  Geez, why had Curtis called her Marilyn? No-one knew her by that name. The quote he’d come up with was okay but she wouldn’t have said it herself. Luke always believed: ‘You need more than love and luck; you have to work hard to make your own luck.’ But as hard as he’d tried, Luke hadn’t managed to do it. Twice, with his wife and his daughter, luck had gone against him.

  What time was it in Chicago now? Four p.m. Maz rang Luke’s mobile. It went straight to voicemail and she left a brief message. ‘Thinking of you, babe. Hope you’re doing okay. Love you lots.’ He seemed so far away and her words so meaningless.

  Maz read the article again, slowly this time. The main photo was from Gracie Day, the event they’d held at school. At the end, Curtis had mentioned another type of Gracie Day—one that the little girl wouldn’t be attending.

  A number of community groups are discussing a Wirriga picnic to celebrate Gracie’s life. Once the details of Gracie’s memorial service and the picnic have been finalised, we will announce them in the paper and online.

  How could Maz have been so reckless? An unqualified twenty-two-year-old like her should not be importing and selling pills. Why had Luke encouraged her? He was smart—much smarter than her.

  Had he been too desperate for a cure, too desperate to try anything and everything?

  28

  LUKE

  Luke lay on his back, the grass scratchy against his shirt, staring up at the clouds. They resembled the shoreline of a beach, scalloped, wispy, as though the waves were lapping against it. Just like Curl Curl. That beach had everything—a long stretch of sand to sprint along with Maz, a pool for laps, and waves for surfing. Even a short clifftop walk for people like Ally who didn’t enjoy exercise. And ice-cream for Gracie. Forbidden ice-cream, which Ally thought was a secret, but his daughter told him everything.

  Being on that beach was certainly better than the hours spent at the hospital.

  But no more hospitals.

  And no more Curl Curl beach.

  Luke clutched his phone to his chest, his fingers curling around the sleek screen. What could he say to all the caring followers? Wirriga had been good to his gorgeous girl. And Ally had cared. Properly cared. She’d given them a roof over their heads, nourishing food and love for Gracie. Overcome her fear of flying to get to Chicago. That shocked him. She had no idea of her own strength. Above and beyond what he ever could have imagined—an incredible force driving the fundraising, galvanising a whole community. His little girl had been so special to them all. Brought the community together in one common goal.

  But last week, Gracie confessed that Ally had given her medicine when she’d been sick.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me at the time?’ he’d demanded.

  ‘I didn’t want to get Lally in trouble. She was helping me.’

  Despite everything she’d done, Allison had no right to give Gracie any medicine; she hadn’t even asked his permission. What was that word she used? Overstepping. Yes, that was definitely overstepping. The good teacher had crossed the line. Luke had seen that look in her eyes: she’d wanted Gracie as her own.

  Would Ally blame herself? Or Maz? Or turn it back onto him?

  Maz—well, she would be blaming herself about the supplements. She should’ve done more research.

  They all should have.

  He’d been considering a farewell note for the blog. Should he just say a personal goodbye?

  Luke brought his phone up, squinting at the screen against the whiteness of the sky behind. The wind must be strong up there, the wispy clouds had been painted over in grey. Dark, heavy clouds that would bring the rain. Further north, they’d had storm warnings.

  How would Ally and Maz—and all of Wirriga—weather the coming storm? Sadly, Luke wouldn’t be there to find out.

  29

  MAZ

  Maz could only talk to one person about both Luke and the supplements. Nico pulled her into his office and hugged her tight. The message on his singlet read: No pain, no gain.

  What were they gaining from the pain of Gracie’s death?

  ‘I’m scared for Luke,’ Maz said. ‘He’s giving up on life.’

  ‘Not Luke. He’s not the type to throw in the towel,’ Nico said. ‘He’ll come through this. And when he gets back from Chicago, we’ll have a picnic in Gracie’s memory.’ The gym owner sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes. Behind him on the wall were two framed photos of his stepchildren. When they were old enough, Maz expected that Nico would start training them in the gym, just like he’d done with her.

  ‘Nico, I was wondering …’ She pushed the hand weights on his desk, rolling them back and forth. ‘Those supplements that come in from Asia … do you know anyone who’s got sick from them?’

  ‘Sick? Nah. They make you healthier. Stronger.’

  ‘But apparently some can affect the liver. There’s some kind of … toxicity.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I heard about a guy in Queensland. Nearly died from a natural green tea extract. It wasn’t listed on the protein powder packet. He needed an emergency liver transplant.’ Nico shrugged his thick shoulders. ‘But that hardly ever happens. It’s, like, one in a million.’

  The text from Curtis asked her to come for lunch at the nursing home up on the plateau, where he was doing a series on t
he residents. As Maz stepped inside the entrance, the smell hit her. Disinfectant, food and a flowery air freshener to mask it all. In the front lounge area, a woman in a wheelchair waved and said hello. Maybe Maz could offer some gentle exercise classes, help the old people live out their best lives in here? She pushed the thought away. No more grand plans. That lump of fear inside her stomach was putting a hold on everything.

  Curtis sat at a table with a red plastic flower in a crystal vase atop a white doily. He had a pot of tea and a plate of muffins.

  ‘I’m here all day,’ he said. ‘There are so many amazing stories. One woman owned an outback pub, another helped with early malaria research. That guy over there circumnavigated the world in a freighter.’

  ‘Interesting.’

  All Maz wanted to talk about was Gracie.

  ‘They’ve lived incredible lives and we treat them as a burden on society. My series is going to change that.’ Curtis sighed. ‘And bring in advertising revenue from retirement villages. And calm people down about the royal commission.’

  ‘I thought the royal commission was on banks.’

  ‘That’s finished. They’re moving on to aged care now.’

  If there was a royal commission, shouldn’t Curtis be writing about the bad aspects? Anyway, none of this was relevant to Maz.

  ‘You said you wanted to talk about Gracie,’ she prompted.

  ‘Have you heard from Luke?’ Curtis asked.

  ‘Not today. I’m really worried about him.’

  Curtis leaned forward and did his steeple pose.

  ‘Allison rang me.’ He frowned. ‘She hasn’t been able to see Luke.’

  ‘That’s because he’s in quarantine. There’s some terrible flu going around and they’re worried about an infection in his lungs.’

  ‘Yeah, I heard that from Allison. When she couldn’t see Luke, she went to Dr Mercado’s clinic. They have no record of Gracie.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand.’

  That doctor had been Gracie’s best hope. He’d worked out a low dose of the drug which meant treatment every third day. Luke would’ve done anything, raised any amount of money, given up his kidney, his blood, his bone marrow—whatever it took to make Gracie better.