The Good Teacher

by Petronella McGovern

  The reception area had a lovely feel to it. Lounges, cushions, colourful paintings, a bubbling fountain and a waft of scented candles. Comforting. On the wall, an inspirational motto inside a heart: Believe you deserve it and the universe will serve it.

  A woman in black jeans and a lime-green shirt approached her.

  ‘Hi, you must be Jordan.’ She took Allison’s hands, clasped them in her own, squeezed them softly. ‘Welcome to our place of healing. My name is Tamara. I’ll help you check in.’

  When Allison explained that she was looking for a patient from Australia, she waited for the concern to flood across the woman’s face. Instead Tamara smiled gently.

  ‘I’m sorry but you must have the wrong centre.’ Her long silver earrings jangled as she shook her head. ‘We have no patients from Australia.’

  The truth or a cover-up?

  ‘Please, could you check their names in the system?’

  ‘We’re a small, personalised centre,’ Tamara said. ‘I know the names of all of our clients.’

  Clients, not patients.

  ‘Gracie died.’ Allison stared at the stupid quote on the wall. ‘She died. Just like that French boy.’

  Tamara reached for Allison’s hands again. ‘Oh, honey, my heart goes out to you. A little girl gone too. We were so sad to lose Ruben. Such a charming boy.’

  She’d expected the centre staff to be defensive and yet this woman was holding Allison’s hands. Over her shoulder, out in the garden, Allison could see three people chatting. Two women and a man with his back to her. A man with closely cropped dark hair.

  Allison pulled her hands free from Tamara’s clasp and rushed out into the beautiful, peaceful garden with its cascading fountains and blue glass statues. In the distance, small studios were dotted between the bushes. Studios for accommodation or treatment? Had Gracie been staying in one of them?

  The group was sitting on benches either side of a wooden table with folders and checklists laid out for signing.

  ‘Luke, thank God, you’re here.’ She placed her hands on the man’s shoulders. ‘I’ve found you.’

  But when Luke lifted his face to her, the features were all wrong. The same hair, the same physique, a different person.

  ‘I … uh … a mistake,’ she muttered.

  She stumbled back into the reception area and sank onto the couch, a fog of confusion clouding her thoughts.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Tamara asked. ‘Are you a reporter?’

  ‘I’m a schoolteacher from Australia and I think Gracie was here.’

  ‘It’s time for you to leave.’

  Would Allison be ejected by security yet again, without discovering anything?

  ‘We lost a five-year-old girl. We all believed she should live, the universe needed her, so why did she die? What does your quote even mean? Of course she deserved to live.’ The words burst out unbidden. ‘Did Gracie die here? Are you hiding her death?’

  Tamara bundled Allison off the couch, towards the door. Sweetly but firmly. She didn’t seem shocked by Allison’s ranting.

  ‘Honey, I understand you’re upset. You’re mourning a terrible loss. But you’re wrong about our centre. We believe in what we do. And it works for many people. We give them hope and life.’

  ‘No, you sell fake hope and snake oil. Trick people and take their money as a last resort. You’re quacks who kill people.’

  Hot anger raced through Allison, along with the confusion. Why had Luke come to Chicago? Where the hell was he? The only clue she had was Navy Pier. That last Facebook post: Gracie smiling on the big Ferris wheel, her favourite purple beanie covering her head. The caption full of hope and happiness: We’re here in Chicago, ready to start treatment tomorrow.

  What treatment?

  Tamara had moved Allison through the door to the top of the small set of steps. She must have been expecting resistance as she gave Allison a slight nudge. Unbalanced, Allison’s feet slipped on the step and she started falling. Tamara caught her around the waist in a hug and steadied her.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’

  The shock snatched Allison’s anger away; she gave a half-sob.

  ‘I’m jetlagged and I can’t find Luke. I’ve been all over Chicago, but he’s not here. I can’t find where Gracie went. Where she died.’

  ‘There are lots of cancer centres in the States,’ Tamara said. ‘And some clinics in Mexico.’

  ‘He must be at some alternative place.’ Allison sighed. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

  ‘We definitely didn’t treat Gracie.’ Tamara hesitated and Allison was suddenly alert to the familiar way she’d said the girl’s name. ‘Her father sent us an enquiry but they never came.’

  Finally, someone in Chicago had heard of Gracie.

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘He gave us the dates and Gracie’s medical information …’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this straight away?’

  ‘I thought you were a reporter at first, but then I could see that you were truly upset about Gracie.’

  Tamara was doing something with her phone. The big gate at the end of the driveway opened up for a cab.

  ‘The thing is … I’m sorry, but I thought her father was a reporter too. Some of the questions he asked … I turned them away.’

  It was still too early to ring Australia so Allison couldn’t share the news with Curtis: Someone has heard of Gracie. In her hotel room, she began researching treatment centres in Mexico and how to repatriate a body from America to Australia. Gracie’s body. Oh dear God, what if she was too late and she had to take home Luke’s body as well?

  Sniffing back her tears, Allison read through the logistics of repatriation. One website listed the repatriation companies and the official requirements. The death of an Australian overseas must be reported to the Australian Embassy. Had Luke done that already? Contact the travel insurance provider. He must have had travel insurance in case of any medical issue. Allison scanned through the pages. Human remains can pose a biosecurity risk. What sort of drugs had been in Gracie’s system? What was the official cause of death?

  When she could finally phone Curtis, he had no answers either. No-one had heard from Luke. Dr Rawson hadn’t returned the journalist’s phone calls and Maz was worried about her father in hospital.

  ‘Please, can you hold off telling people that I can’t find Luke?’ she asked Curtis. ‘There must be a sensible explanation. I don’t want the children and the community upset for no reason.’

  Protecting Luke. Possibly protecting Maz. But also protecting herself. The fundraiser had been Allison’s responsibility.

  Curtis agreed and vowed to keep trying to locate them from his end.

  She texted Nadia: I don’t understand this place and the accents. It’s like being on another planet. I want to come home but I can’t find them. I’m scared Luke has gone too. She added the same entreaty as she had to Curtis. Please don’t tell anyone yet.

  Meanwhile, Felix had sent her a message over WhatsApp about his soccer game. He added a line at the end: I saw Maz dancing on the beach the day after Gracie died. Weird!

  Had Maz and Luke done something to Gracie? With the pills? Allison’s brain whirled with possibilities.

  The next message was from Shona—an email describing how the kids were creating artworks in memory of Gracie. It was supposed to be life-affirming but some of the year three children had drawn gravestones and crosses. Two year six kids had written poems about death coming to take them in their sleep. The counsellor had been called in for extra days at the school. They were planning the school memorial assembly. It was important for Luke to be there—did Allison have any idea of when they’d arrive back?

  How could she possibly explain to the whole school—to all of Wirriga—that Luke was missing, possibly dead? And she couldn’t find Gracie’s body to bring home.

  Allison dragged herself down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. With her body clock still on Australian time, she�
��d barely eaten during the day and had then been starving at midnight. A slightly nauseous feeling had been hanging over her ever since she’d arrived. She ordered the local special: pizza. Deep-dish with a thick buttery crust—almost like a pie. Better than almost any pizza she’d eaten in Sydney. But after three bites, she was full. And sick with worry.

  Curtis’ number flashed on her mobile.

  ‘Have you heard from Dr Rawson?’ she asked. ‘Does he know where Gracie was being treated?’

  ‘No, but I’ve found something else.’ Curtis sounded breathless. ‘It’s not what you’d expect.’

  At this point, Allison didn’t know what to expect.

  ‘I’ve got a contact in Immigration. Apparently, Luke and Gracie never went through Customs.’

  ‘What’re you talking about? I took them to the airport.’

  Allison remembered hugging Gracie, taking the photo, watching them wheel their bags off towards the check-in counter. And then, when she was tearing up, waving and rushing back to the car.

  ‘My contact was definite,’ Curtis said. ‘Luke and Gracie Branson are still in Australia.’

  32

  ALLISON

  The customer service officer at the American Airlines desk listened to Allison’s request, nodded and clicked at her screen.

  ‘The earliest flight might not be the most direct,’ she warned.

  ‘That’s fine,’ Allison said. ‘I just need to get home.’

  And figure out what the hell Luke had done. To her. To them all. In one instant, her exhaustion and confusion had snapped into fury—the same rage that had consumed her after Tony had decimated their family. Shoving clothes into her bag, she’d checked out of the hotel and caught the train straight to O’Hare.

  As the woman tapped on her keyboard, Allison wondered if her credit card had enough to cover the fee for changing the flight. A few days in Chicago—three thousand dollars, four, five? She couldn’t bear to add up the cost of this bizarre trip.

  After a few minutes’ silence, the woman raised her inscrutable face from the computer.

  ‘Mrs Walsh, this flight goes from Chicago to LA.’ She twisted the monitor so Allison could see the list of times and connections. ‘Then via Melbourne to Sydney.’

  She pronounced Melbourne with a strange inflection, emphasising the second syllable.

  ‘That will be fine. Thanks so much.’

  With a four-hour wait, Allison knew her fear of flying would start spiking soon. She went to the bathrooms and tipped the last Valium into the palm of her hand. Staring at it, she could feel the anxiety knotting through her body, beating a fast drum in her chest. It swirled in and out of her fury about Luke. All the time she’d been in Chicago, her brain had been fuzzy. Now, she needed clarity. Turning on the tap, she let the yellow tablet wash down the plughole. Her heart beat even faster as it disappeared into the darkness below. Ground yourself, Allison: focus on the water pooling and circling in the sink. Think about the water: does it really go the opposite way in the northern hemisphere? Like with everything else in Chicago, she didn’t have an answer.

  In the departures area, Allison stared at the Jamba Juice bar. Luke would have loved its Amazing Greens smoothies and acai bowls. But he’d never been through this airport. Why had he posted a picture of Gracie in Chicago and let Allison follow them here?

  When a call from Curtis came through, she hoped for more news.

  ‘I did a credit check on Luke, but nothing came up,’ Curtis said. ‘I tried to get his tax file number from Nico at the gym, but he was being paid in cash, on a casual arrangement, so he could save as much as possible for Gracie’s treatment.’

  ‘I think there are three possibilities,’ Allison said. ‘Gracie is having some unusual treatment in Australia. Or he’s decided against any more treatment and they’ve gone somewhere to die. Or he’s taken the money and run. What do you think?’

  Curtis answered slowly. ‘I’m keeping an open mind.’

  ‘Are you going to publish something or can you delay it until I’m back?’ Allison guessed it would go against his journalistic tendencies to wait. ‘I’d rather find out the truth before I tell the school. They’re all so sad about Gracie.’

  ‘Yep, I’d prefer to publish when I know what’s going on. A lot of people are going to be pissed off that Gracie isn’t on a clinical trial in Chicago.’

  ‘I know. Do you think she’s dead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Allison’s heart kept flip-flopping between the two options: dead or alive. Or had something unexpected happened—like a fatal allergic reaction at the airport before they flew out? But why would Luke lie to her?

  ‘My flight’s going via Melbourne, so I’ll stop off there and drive up to Hythorne. I have a feeling that he’s taken her home.’

  A calm, quiet place in the countryside with special memories. As well as Sarah Branson’s horrendous death. Had he gone there with Gracie to end it all?

  The next caller was Tony.

  Her husband didn’t say how impressed he was at Allison getting on a plane by herself. Although that brave behaviour was paling in comparison to the search for Luke. Every moment in Chicago had been way out of her comfort zone.

  ‘Let me start by apologising,’ Tony said. ‘I know that sometimes you were watching the house but now I realise it wasn’t every time. We’ve received another threatening letter, which clearly you didn’t write because you’re in Chicago.’

  She sat down heavily on the nearest seat and took a deep breath—was her son in danger?

  ‘Is Felix okay? Why didn’t you believe me earlier?’ she snapped. ‘The police would be onto it by now. Who is stalking you?’

  ‘Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling—to ask a favour for Felix.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you right now, with Gracie and everything …’

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  ‘What’s the favour?’

  ‘I’m wondering if we could … if you’d possibly allow us to …’ A formal voice, as though they’d never been married. ‘I wondered if we might stay in the house for a week. While you’re away.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  She was ready to hang up immediately.

  ‘I’d be happy to go to an apartment but Felix wants to come home. He says he’ll feel safer in Wirriga.’

  The bastard for dragging her son into his disaster.

  ‘Felix can stay with my mum, and you and your woman and the baby can go to an apartment.’

  ‘Please, Allison, I’m begging you. It’d be better if I’m with him. Just for a few days while we organise safer accommodation.’ Did Tony have any idea of what he’d put her through? And he’d made her own son accuse her of stalking as well. For God’s sake, she didn’t have the energy to think about all his crap. Not right now.

  In the silence, he began speaking again.

  ‘I wish I’d told you everything from the start.’ He groaned.

  ‘I was just trying to protect Helena and her baby. Keep them safe.’ And to cover up his unethical behaviour. Whatever Tony said, it was wrong to fall in love with your client.

  ‘The system wasn’t working for her. We couldn’t find a safe place for her to stay.’

  ‘So you left our marriage and set one up?’

  Her husband—a fucking knight in shining armour.

  ‘But it’s not safe here anymore. Please.’ He was pleading now. ‘Felix will be so much happier.’

  He’d made Felix lie about the woman and that poor defenceless baby. Had Tony used their son as some kind of bodyguard against an abusive, jealous ex-partner? Bloody hell.

  ‘I’ll be back in two days,’ she said. ‘You can stay for the weekend. Please be out by Monday morning.’

  Hopefully, she’d know by then where Luke and Gracie had gone.

  ‘That would be a great help.’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. There’ll be absolutely no sign of us on Monday.�
�

  She couldn’t have said no; couldn’t have told her son that he wasn’t allowed to come home while she wasn’t there.

  ‘Don’t go into my room.’ She enunciated the words clearly to make sure he got the message. ‘Look after our son.’

  Waiting for her flight, with the noise of planes taking off around her, Allison kept her eyes on the phone. She hadn’t told Curtis her other theory. Prayed that it couldn’t be true. Not while Luke was living in her own home.

  Allison had seen Gracie’s scans and blood tests, the tablets and the steroids. But what if Luke had somehow caused it all? Munchausen syndrome by proxy. The thought of Luke slowly poisoning his daughter made her stomach cramp.

  Allison read about the syndrome on her phone. Some of the red flags sounded just like Luke.

  Appears devoted to his or her child.

  May suddenly change doctors.

  The child has a repeated or unusual illness.

  The other parent is not involved in the child’s care.

  But then others weren’t like him at all.

  The caregiver is usually the mother.

  The caregiver often has low self-esteem or feels their life is out of their control.

  The caregiver has medical skills or experience.

  The next section talked about the attention that the person received from medical staff and the local community: Neighbours may bring in meals and do chores. But Luke was the one cooking and doing his own washing at her house.

  The last line read: The attention may encourage the caregiver to continue their behaviour. Allison, Declan, Maz and Curtis—they’d all been showering Gracie and Luke with love, care and money, organising fundraising events and activities.

  What if they’d actually been encouraging Luke to make Gracie sick?

  33

  FELIX

  Darcy had said ‘sleep over at mine’ but Felix wanted to be in his own bed in his own house. Close to Dad. He really wanted Mum but she was still up in the air, flying back from Chicago. She’d rung before she got on the plane but Felix was at soccer training and only heard the message later. I’m coming home early. See you on Monday. I love you, sweetheart. Mum hadn’t called him ‘sweetheart’ in ages.