The Good Teacher

by Petronella McGovern

  ‘Sure, come out the back and I’ll get you a cuppa. You’re in no state to drive.’

  Twenty minutes later, revived by Kayleigh’s tea and kindness, Allison walked along the main street of Hythorne. The cool air bit into her and she wished she had a thicker jumper or a coat. In the petrol station and the hardware store, she approached the shop assistants and presented the photos to them: Sarah on the memorial page, Gracie on the blog, Luke on Facebook.

  ‘Obviously Gracie would’ve looked different with hair,’ she explained.

  ‘Sorry, don’t know them,’ came the replies.

  Allison asked at the vet and the bakery. Knocked on the door of the boutique winery with its For Sale sign. Finally, she reached the old pub on the corner, a relic from bushranger days. Its wooden balconies had survived the fire and the white wrought-iron railings were freshly painted. Inside, a log fire warmed the six drinkers scattered at tables. Allison spoke to the barman and each of the customers.

  Not one of them had heard of the Bransons.

  With no idea of where to go next, Allison slumped onto a bar stool and ordered a lemonade. She imagined resting her head on the wooden countertop, letting her mind go blank, falling asleep right here. And waking up with all the answers. Her phone buzzed, jolting her thoughts. Luke? She grabbed the mobile from her bag, flipped it over and saw a message from Felix.

  I don’t feel safe. Please come home. Love you.

  35

  Allison called Felix immediately. ‘Are you okay, sweetheart? What’s happened?’

  ‘There were some kids in the bush last night. Behind the house. Helena completely freaked out. Dad called the police. They’re here again now, downstairs.’ He paused for breath. ‘The police, I mean.’

  ‘I’m sure it was just teenagers drinking. Nothing to worry about.’

  The same reassurance that Nadia had given her at the beginning of the year. With Zack’s father behind bars, the robberies had stopped but the prospect of Helena’s husband could be far worse.

  ‘The police wanted a statement from me but I didn’t see anything. What am I supposed to tell them?’

  ‘It’s all right, Felix. Just tell them the truth.’

  Her poor boy, flipping between terrified and tough.

  ‘Maz came over the other night, looking for some pills,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’

  ‘No. Thanks for telling me.’

  Did Luke still have a key to the house? Had he given one to Maz? Why had Maz been dancing on the beach the day after Gracie died? Were they in it together?

  Oh God, Allison would have to tell Tony, the police, everyone … Sweet little Gracie. What had happened to her?

  ‘When are you coming home, Mum? Where are you?’

  ‘I had to do a stopover in Melbourne. I’m jetlagged and I was going to stay down here tonight, but I can fly back earlier if you need me to?’

  The longer she could avoid facing Gracie’s Gang, the better. She had no answers and no explanations. But of course she’d come back if Felix asked. Although she didn’t want to spend the night at the house with Tony and Helena and the baby. She hadn’t wanted Tony to come home like that. The replacement of Allison Walsh was now complete.

  ‘It’s okay. Darcy and I are going to a Manly United game this arvo. Will you be here when I get home from school tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be there.’

  After ending the call, Allison noticed that Curtis had sent a text: I’ve got nothing to report and Dr Rawson still hasn’t rung back. Was the doctor helping to cover Luke’s tracks? Or Curtis himself? The journalist was the only one who’d ever spoken to Dr Rawson.

  Allison went back to the general store for some supplies to keep her awake on the drive to Melbourne. She couldn’t stop yawning. This trip had been another bloody wild-goose chase. As she was paying for the Coke and chips, Kayleigh asked about her next movements.

  ‘I’ll stay the night at a hotel on the outskirts of Melbourne.’ Allison yawned again. ‘Fly back to Sydney tomorrow lunchtime.’

  ‘You’re exhausted, darl, and we don’t need another tragedy.’ Kayleigh grimaced then rearranged her face into a smile. ‘Why don’t you stay in my guesthouse tonight? My husband’s away so you can help me drink that bottle of wine.’

  The Currawong Guesthouse perched on the edge of town: an old two-storey cottage, painted blue and pink. The views should have been stunning. Instead, the verandah overlooked a desolate moonscape studded with singed trunks.

  ‘No tourists these days,’ Kayleigh grunted. ‘One insurance guy came but he left pretty quick. No government people, not even bloody journalists. They all stay at the bottom of the mountain, where they can escape the sight of it.’

  They could hear the currawongs chattering to each other; their long, double call ended in a wolf whistle that echoed around the valley.

  ‘It’s good they’re back,’ Kayleigh said. ‘For months after, we didn’t hear a single bird. I’ll do dinner at seven.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  If Allison could stay awake that long.

  Sinking into an old-fashioned armchair, she traced her fingers over the fabric—wrens perched atop golden leaves. Love you, Felix had typed. Over the past five months, she’d kept saying it to him but he’d stopped saying it back.

  Noise outside the window startled her. She must have fallen asleep. A huge currawong was swooping downwards onto a smaller, squawking bird. Attacking the bird or protecting its own? Allison checked her phone: messages from Shona and Mum.

  Nothing from Luke.

  He’d lied to her about Chicago. About Hythorne. Why? Her instinct to see the best in people, to allow the benefit of the doubt, was being pushed beyond logic. Where the hell was he? She decided to try Facebook Messenger—if he was using another phone, he should still be able to see that. But what to say? He’d never answer if he knew Allison was here in Hythorne.

  I’m worried for you. I know you’re not in Chicago. I’m back now and I can help you. I loved Gracie too. Just let me know where you are and if you’re okay?

  On Luke’s Facebook page, hundreds of people had written their condolences underneath the photo of Gracie on the Ferris wheel in Chicago.

  —My daughter will miss Gracie so much.

  —When’s the funeral? We want to be there for you and to farewell Gracie.

  —She’s with her mum in Heaven. xx

  —Please let us know what we can do to help.

  Allison read each name and checked for any responses from Luke. Love hearts and sad face emojis had been added next to the comments, but none by Luke. Staring at the Facebook page, Allison wondered about his six hundred and eighty-three friends. One of them must know where Luke had gone.

  She began typing: After the tragic loss of Gracie, Luke has stopped answering his calls. We’re all worried about him. Does anyone know where he is?

  Re-reading the words, she glanced at the Facebook friends again. Some of them were mums and dads from school. They knew Luke had been staying with her—what would they think of this message? That she and Luke had argued? That she was incompetent at looking after both Gracie and Luke? But bloody hell, she had to do something. She hit ‘post’ on the dialogue button and waited for it to appear on his timeline.

  Nothing happened.

  Allison tried again. Still nothing. There must be some privacy settings in place. The only other option was to put her message in a comment at the bottom of the post. Hopefully, some of his friends would see it there. After adding her words, she clicked onto the ‘friends’ box and examined them. So many people he’d never mentioned. Friends from high school, swimming, gym, uni? People who’d known his family?

  Luke was an only child whose elderly parents had disappointed him and vice versa. They’d pushed him with the swimming, but when he’d failed to get into the Olympic team, they’d lost interest. He’d been backpacking in Peru when his father was in a bad car accident. Apparently his mum had said he shouldn’t cut his trip short�
��he’d worked hard to earn the money for travelling and he should stay there and enjoy it. That was them, he said. Unsentimental. Even with their only son.

  ‘Did you come back?’ Allison had asked. No way could she ‘stay on and enjoy a trip’ while her father was in a critical condition in hospital. ‘We were in a remote town. The bus to Trujillo only came every second day. And then I had to get another bus to Lima. Another day to get a flight out. By the time I got home, Dad was still in hospital but unlikely to die. My mother wasn’t particularly pleased to see me—said I shouldn’t have bothered.’

  When Luke had spoken about his uncaring family, Allison was impressed that he’d managed to break the mould with his own parenting. Could she track down his mum and dad?

  As she scrolled through the list of friends, Allison noticed Sarah Branson’s name. She clicked on the image and Sarah’s profile came up. Gracie hadn’t gone to the funeral, Luke said. It was too much for her during chemo.

  Was it mawkish to keep Facebook pages of the dead? Or comforting—as if they were still here, just in a different room with a locked door. Even from the photo, Allison could see that Sarah had a vitality, an aura of happiness. Her last post had been of horses running in a paddock. Trying to decide which one Gracie should ride … Silver is too feisty, Topaz is too big and Amber loves to gallop! Time to buy a pony for my little girl?

  Enlarging the picture on Facebook, Allison focused on the paddocks. If the Bransons never lived in Hythorne, where and how had Sarah died?

  At first light, the currawongs called Allison out of her dream in which she’d been madly trying to bake a cake for Gracie and catch a plane. She checked Facebook straight away. Nothing from Luke but some responses from his friends.

  —Have you tried their old town in Victoria?

  —His mum’s from Perth. I’ll see if I can find her number.

  —Have you talked to Maz?

  All useful suggestions but then the tone turned:

  —Maybe he needs some time out and you should leave him alone.

  —Yeah, give the guy a break, he’s been through some tough shit.

  —Luke knows how much we all love him. He’ll be back when he’s ready.

  —You’ve had your five minutes of fame, Ms Teacher, get out of the limelight.

  —Stop being a jerk. Mrs Walsh has done so much for Gracie. She’s a legend.

  —Umm, hello. A little girl just died. Some decorum here, please.

  She’d never heard of the friend who was telling her to get out of the limelight. A personal trainer from Ballarat. As if Allison had ever wanted fame; she hated the limelight. Allison was fine standing up and talking to the kids, but replace them with adults and her hands started shaking. She recognised the people defending her—parents from school. She’s a legend. Huh. So much of a legend that she had no idea if Gracie was dead or alive, Luke had disappeared, Felix was terrified, and her husband had brought his new girlfriend and baby into their house. An absolute legend.

  After breakfast, when Allison thanked Kayleigh for her hospitality, the woman wished her luck.

  ‘I hope you find out where they’ve gone,’ Kayleigh said, before repeating her line from last night. ‘I don’t understand why Luke would say his wife died in Hythorne. Why did he choose our town?’

  Kayleigh had lost a friend and an acquaintance. Her whole community had been affected. Allison could feel her simmering rage. Hard enough to go through the tragedy, the clean-up, the rebuilding—but then to have someone ‘steal’ their horrific experiences …

  ‘Luke really did seem traumatised by his wife’s death,’ Allison answered. ‘Maybe it hurt too much to say the name of their own town?’

  His wife’s death was what had connected them; Luke had understood Allison’s own loss. It couldn’t be a lie.

  At the airport, waiting to board the plane, Allison sent a text to Curtis and Maz.

  Hi—can you meet at my house at 6 tonight? Anyone heard from Luke?

  Was his last message three days ago? With the time difference between America and Australia, Allison wasn’t sure. Back then, when she’d got his message, she’d assumed he was in Chicago. That she’d find him—save him—and they’d come home together.

  Maz replied immediately. He won’t answer. I’m scared for him. I can be at yours tonight.

  With everything else going on, Allison hadn’t had a chance to look into Maz’s supplements. The gym instructor had been sleeping with Luke; she must know something.

  36

  MAZ

  Over the weekend, Maz had called each of her clients. Asked them how they were feeling. Any signs of illness? All of them said they were fine.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t sell the supplements anymore,’ she’d explained. ‘You should go into the stores at Manly or Chatswood. Discuss your needs with them. Don’t buy them online.’

  Trying to warn her clients while covering her arse. Only one asked why she was stopping.

  ‘I’ve got too many other things on.’

  A missing—presumed dead—boyfriend. A dad in hospital. An online program in ashes. And a child’s death.

  For all of which Maz might be to blame.

  I was only trying to help.

  She couldn’t get on to her last client, Laurel, so Maz tracked her down after a class. Maz thought the woman would be angry and worried, but Laurel seemed to be expecting another delivery.

  ‘You have to stop taking them,’ Maz said. ‘They could make you sick.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate.’ Laurel didn’t sound particularly concerned. ‘They were definitely working. Look at my flat stomach.’

  Should Maz tell her that the pills might contain a substance that was banned in Australia?

  ‘I’ll refund all your money.’

  Breaking into the safety net she’d just started accruing. There’d be no twenty-third birthday party now. No new car in a few years’ time.

  ‘Thanks for letting me know. Can you recommend any other appetite suppressants?’

  ‘No, you should talk to your doctor.’

  A strange conversation. Maz wondered if Laurel didn’t believe her or if the desire to be thin was stronger than any other health considerations. Hopefully, Laurel wouldn’t start buying them online herself.

  Of course, she told Oakley about the letter from Australian Border Force. She didn’t want to get him, or the factory in Thailand, into trouble.

  ‘Freakin’ hell, your package was confiscated—that’s heavy, man,’ he said.

  ‘I’m shutting up shop.’

  ‘But it’s all good stuff. Australia shouldn’t be banning it.’

  ‘Only one lot has a banned substance but I can’t work out which one it is.’

  ‘Well, you know the protein powder’s okay,’ Oakley reasoned. ‘Keep selling that. Make some money and meet up with me.’

  Hook up with me, he meant. An overseas trip would be a distraction from all the shit going on here. And then she remembered that Border Force had her name on file. What if they arrested her leaving Australia?

  ‘I can’t keep selling,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I’m s’posed to have a licence or something.’

  Text. WhatsApp. Messenger. She’d called Luke again and again. Saturday and Sunday. Morning and night. No response to any of it. His WhatsApp remained offline. The sick feeling about Gracie had taken over her whole body. Curtis said their passports hadn’t left the country but Maz didn’t believe it. Fake news. Either his source was wrong or their passports were in a different name. And the whole thing with Dr Mercado—Allison had stuffed up somehow. Or the clinic refused to tell her because she wasn’t family. There were any number of reasons why the teacher hadn’t found them. Luke was in Chicago, she knew it.

  But that didn’t stop Maz’s fear. Had Luke gone ahead and checked out?

  Mid-morning on Monday, Maz entered the hospital ward swinging a bag with more clothes for Dad. He wanted to be ready to go whenever they let him. Hopefully soon. Maz plastered a smile
on her face.

  ‘Here she is.’ Mum jumped up to give her a hug.

  The hug was tight and long.

  ‘What about a cuddle for your old man?’ Dad asked from his hospital bed. ‘I’m missing out.’

  She sat on the edge of the bed and bent awkwardly to wrap her arms around him. The hospital antiseptic had overpowered Dad’s usual scent—a combination of his deodorant, the shampoo he got free from the factory and Mum’s washing powder.

  ‘How’s Luke doing?’ Mum asked.

  Avoiding Wendy’s enquiring eyes, Maz stared past her, through the big window to where the sea shimmered in the far distance. The horizon made a neat divide between the green-blue water and the pale blue sky. Higher up, clouds stretched in long, thin shapes, wispy at each end. She imagined them as kayaks gliding across the water.

  ‘Ummm, Luke is …’

  Mum grabbed at her arm. ‘Is he back from America? He can stay at our house if he needs to.’

  While Dad had been in hospital, Mum hadn’t slept properly. Her face was puffy and she had dark half-circles under her eyes. Maz couldn’t remember the last time her parents had spent a night apart.

  ‘Luke is …’ She searched for a way to reassure Mum—and herself. ‘He’s devastated. But he’ll be okay eventually. You know how positive he is.’

  ‘Any funeral plans yet?’

  What if they had to organise a double funeral? Maz walked over to the window so Mum wouldn’t see her tears.

  Maz had written out the list of supplements but she didn’t know which, if any, had caused the episode. As she was about to leave Dad’s bedside, Dr Simmons appeared.

  ‘The angiogram has given us some unexpected results,’ he said. ‘You seem to have no indications of heart disease, Rick.’

  ‘Well, that’s great news.’ Mum smiled brightly and patted Dad on the shoulder.

  ‘We were expecting to see some sign of arteriosclerosis or atherosclerosis—that’s a thickening of the arteries and a buildup of plaque.’

  ‘So I’ve got a healthy heart!’ Dad was grinning as if he’d won a medal.