‘Yes, but we’re still trying to work out why you had the chest pains.’ Dr Simmons raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you been taking cocaine or any other illicit drugs?’
‘Cocaine?’ Dad gave a full belly laugh, making the bed move slightly. ‘Do I look like someone who takes cocaine? A raver, is that what you call them, Maz?’
Maz couldn’t smile. She forced herself to say the next words.
‘Dad, you did give Dr Simmons the list of supplements, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, and he said they wouldn’t have affected my heart.’
Dr Simmons nodded.
‘What about the appetite suppressant?’ Maz whispered to Dad, avoiding eye contact with the doctor.
Before Dad could answer, Dr Simmons spoke. ‘That wasn’t on your list. Which brand?’
‘Not really a brand exactly. I wrote it down but perhaps the name didn’t mean anything.’ Maz didn’t know how to make it clear without incriminating herself. ‘They, uh, they came from Thailand too.’
‘How long has Rick been taking them?’
Maz had only given him a few tablets to start him off. Then he’d secretly taken more. She looked towards Dad, waiting for his answer. But he stayed silent.
‘Maybe four months.’
‘That might explain it. Some of those diet pills speed up the metabolism to dangerously high levels. Can you bring them in?’
Gripping the bed rails, Maz wished she’d told the doctor straight away. Even if meant going to jail, she should’ve fessed up.
‘I got a letter from Australian Border Force.’ Her words were barely audible. ‘It said something about increased risk of liver failure causing death.’
‘Your father hasn’t suffered liver failure,’ Dr Simmons said. ‘But I’ll organise a blood test, and see if there are any chemicals still in his system. We can determine if it has caused the coronary artery vasospasm. Let’s keep you in another day, Rick, so we can sort this all out. And, Maz, please bring in the pills. We can get them analysed in the lab.’
Without saying goodbye, Dr Simmons spun around and left the ward. Mum stared at the space where the doctor had been and burst into tears.
‘It’s all right, Mum.’
When Maz tried to give her a gentle squeeze, Mum shrugged her off.
‘No, it’s not all right. Why would you take pills like that, Rick?’
‘It helped me lose weight.’ Dad’s chin wobbled. ‘I just wanted to be a success for our Maz. For her exercise program.’
Mum stood at the end of his bed, her arms crossed over her chest.
‘You could’ve killed yourself.’
When Maz arrived at Allison’s house that evening, the ex-husband and his new lover had gone. The other night, she’d been too busy searching for the pills to notice how empty the place seemed without Luke and Gracie. The last time she’d been in the lounge room with Luke, they were sitting on the couch, his arm around her shoulder, her head against his chest. Maz had been wondering about the future after Chicago—would they stay together and set up the online program? Would Gracie get better with her pills? Would they become a celebrity couple?
And that same night, after Gracie was in bed, Maz had offered to help Luke pack. Instead, they’d shut the door to his room and hadn’t made it as far as the bed. Frantic, noisy, desperate sex on the carpet. Maz was sure the teacher must have heard. Later, after they had packed Luke’s bag, she’d kissed him and they’d fallen into bed. Slower, quieter lovemaking the second time.
As Maz sat in the lounge room with Allison and Curtis, that farewell seemed months ago, not weeks. Before, Allison had always been buzzing around, in and out of the kitchen, organising things—dinner or an outing for Gracie. Now, she was on the couch with her legs curled up underneath her, not moving at all. She’d prepared a platter of humus and crackers, which sat untouched in the middle of the coffee table.
Allison told them about visiting a number of hospitals and clinics in Chicago. Maz had to admit that it sounded like she’d made a big effort to find where Gracie had been treated.
‘Maybe they were using a different name?’ Maz suggested. ‘With both the hospital and the passports.’
She saw a look of disbelief pass between Allison and Curtis.
‘Even if they were using a different name, they’d remember a young Australian girl with thymic carcinoma,’ Curtis said. ‘It’s pretty unusual.’
‘I never saw their passports,’ Allison added, ‘but I can double-check Gracie’s name with the school tomorrow. They’ll have a copy of Gracie’s birth certificate for enrolment.’
‘I still think they’re in Chicago,’ Maz insisted.
‘Maz, he lied about Dr Mercado’s clinic.’ Curtis hit the cushion as he spoke. ‘He lied about Hythorne. Why wouldn’t he lie about Chicago too?’
‘I don’t know. I just feel that’s where he is.’
Oh shit. Had Curtis told Allison about the Border Force letter?
‘Dr Rawson won’t get back to me,’ Curtis said. ‘And the main reception desk wasn’t helpful. I’ll drive out to the hospital tomorrow and try in person.’
Felix wandered in from the kitchen. More clients. Maz had forgotten about the teenage boys. She’d have to tell them to stop taking their supplements and that she wasn’t supplying any more.
‘Does anyone want a cup of tea?’ Felix’s voice went high then deep, on the verge of breaking.
They shook their heads.
Allison explained that she’d asked everyone on Luke’s Facebook page to help locate him. Not one of the six hundred and eighty-three friends had seen him.
‘I can go online now and see if there’s been any update, Mum,’ Felix offered.
‘I’ll check the blog, too,’ Curtis said. ‘Maybe he’s staying with someone who donated?’
Curtis tapped on his mobile and then scowled at Maz. ‘I can’t find the page.’
Instantly, she searched on her phone. It wasn’t there.
‘He’s taken it down.’ Maz gave a tiny woo-hoo. ‘That means he’s still alive.’
Luke and Allison were the only ones with access to the website apart from Maz. He had to be alive. Pressing his number on her phone, Maz ached for him to answer. But he didn’t.
Hey, Luke here. Sorry I can’t make it to the phone. Leave a message and I’ll catch you later. Maz had been so sure he’d pick up that she didn’t have a message prepared. His deep voice so strong, so sexy. Please be alive. She rushed out some words. ‘We’re so worried about you. Where are you? Please call me. Love you, babe.’
The others were watching her; they sighed when she hung up.
‘Maz, you know him best,’ Allison said. ‘Where do you think he is?’
The teacher always spoke to her as if she were a child. Did Allison think she’d hidden him away somewhere?
‘He talked about friends in Melbourne and a mate from college in Queensland,’ Maz said. ‘I don’t know their names or numbers. His wife’s family lived somewhere in South Australia.’
‘We need to find out where Sarah died.’ The teacher was rubbing her forehead. ‘I feel that’s where he is. Curtis, can you retrieve death records?’
‘I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Maz, can you go to the police station and report him missing?’
‘Oh no, you’d be much better at that, Allison,’ she argued, terrified at the thought of meeting with the police. ‘You can explain about Chicago.’
Curtis poured more red wine into the almost-empty glasses. Maz accepted the refill and guzzled it. She shouldn’t be drinking. She didn’t drink.
The evening sky was completely black; no moon shone through the windows. With the curtains still open and the lights on, Maz felt that the three of them were on show. Anyone could be peeking in through the front window or watching them from the back garden. Shivering, she lifted her wineglass again.
‘I’ve got a few theories.’ As Allison started to speak, she eyeballed Maz. ‘One is that Gracie got sick, ma
ybe died, from the herbal pills—’
Felix shouted from the kitchen: ‘Mum, I think you should come and look at this.’
They followed Allison into the next room and crowded around the kitchen bench. Felix had the laptop open; one tab showed Luke’s Facebook page and another had a picture of an attractive woman with dark curly hair.
‘That’s Sarah Branson,’ Allison said. ‘You’ve found her. Did you figure out where she died?’
‘I did a reverse image search on Sarah’s photo.’ The teenager gnawed on his bottom lip. ‘It matches a woman called Florencia Concepción Fernández de León. She’s a marketing manager who lives in Mexico City.’
37
ALLISON
Allison edged Felix out of his stool and took his seat. Mexico City? The woman at The Happy Place had mentioned Mexico. Sick Americans went to clinics there for procedures not approved by the FDA, and a famous ice hockey player once had stem-cell treatment there—had she heard all that from Luke?
‘Are you sure it’s Sarah?’ Maz asked. ‘Could it be like when Facebook tags someone else with similar features?’
‘It’s not a hundred per cent, but no matching photo came up in Australia.’
Curtis pushed in closer, next to Allison’s left elbow.
‘Has this woman died?’
‘I don’t know.’ Allison stared at the screen as if the photo could tell her. ‘I can’t read Spanish.’
She copied a slab of text and put it into Google Translate.
‘It sounds like she just went to some kind of product launch so I guess she’s alive.’
If Florencia were Gracie’s mum, why was she in Mexico City, rather than here in Sydney looking after her sick little girl? Allison could see a slight resemblance but it was hard to be sure with Gracie’s bandana and bald head. Was Florencia a good-time mum—she left when Gracie got sick? But Luke could have told them that. Unless he was protecting Gracie. Or unless he’d taken her to Mexico?
‘It’s a mistake,’ Maz said, repeating her line from earlier.
Allison heard Felix take a deep breath.
‘Mum, I think it’s all a scam.’
Since Allison had discovered that Luke wasn’t in Chicago, she’d kept coming back to this idea. Her mind chipping away at it, like an axe into hard wood. But each time she found a single fact and made some progress, another thought would sneak out and glance the axe off in a different direction. She couldn’t get a firm grip on what might be true and what might not. Gracie’s tiny body, lying on the couch after a hospital visit, snuggled under a blanket, watching Play School on TV—she’d definitely seen that.
Allison imagined somehow sewing together all the tiny bits of data scattered around online to create a full picture.
‘Do that reverse image search on Luke,’ she said to Felix.
As her son uploaded a photo, Allison noticed that Luke was standing sideways, not showing his whole face. The search came up with no result.
‘Try a different photo, where he’s looking at the camera,’ she suggested.
Felix scrolled through Facebook but Luke was side-on in all of them.
Allison flicked through the photo albums on her phone. She remembered having more of Luke on the beach and at the celebration party. He must’ve been through her phone and deleted any images that clearly showed his likeness. The bastard. This tiny invasion of privacy was nothing compared to all the lies but it was one small thing that she knew for sure.
‘We have to go to the police,’ Allison said.
In furious denial, Maz stormed to the other side of the kitchen and leant against the doorframe, lifted her mobile to her ear. And then she started sobbing.
‘His number’s been disconnected. He must be dead.’
‘He’s not dead,’ Curtis bellowed. ‘He’s fucking duped us.’
The others left with specific plans for tomorrow—Curtis would contact the Victorian regional papers to find any evidence of Sarah Branson, and he’d visit Dr Rawson at the children’s hospital. Maz, when she eventually stopped crying, agreed to go to the police station on the way home and register Luke and Gracie as missing persons. Allison planned to get a copy of Gracie’s birth certificate from the school office, and take it to the police tomorrow morning.
Luke had been playing them all—their sympathy for his dead wife, their empathy for his sick daughter. And could she trust Curtis and Maz, or was one of them in on it too?
Allison ordered Indian takeaway and tried to enjoy a homecoming feast with her son. The two of them at this dining table, a simple act she’d taken for granted last year. Tony and his girlfriend had moved into a short-stay apartment; Allison didn’t know where.
Accompanying them to dinner, though, was an unwelcome guest—her shame. While her first reaction had been anger at Luke, it’d quickly turned inwards. Now the shame burnt inside her, rendering each mouthful of rogan josh tasteless.
Felix scooped mango chutney onto a pappadum and demolished the whole thing in one bite. When she’d hugged him earlier, she’d had to reach up around his shoulders, higher than before. His voice was deeper, flecks of dark hair sprouted above his upper lip. He’d need to start shaving soon.
‘I know you’re embarrassed, Mum,’ Felix said, shovelling down another pappadum.
She’d forgotten that—his ability to perceive how she was feeling at certain moments.
‘I’m jetlagged, honey, and I don’t understand what’s going on. How could he have tricked us like that?’
Not only had she been deceived, but Luke had used her to dupe others. Mrs Allison Walsh—well-known, well-liked, well-respected schoolteacher—had inadvertently deceived an entire community.
‘Mum, there are heaps of scams,’ Felix said. ‘We did it in class. Relationship scams, business scams.’ He paused to make a point. ‘In the tax office scam, people were ordered to pay extra tax, so they just paid it. They weren’t stupid. It all looked legit.’
Allison didn’t need her teenage son telling her about scams; she knew enough. Last year, she’d read the story of a fifty-two-year-old divorcee from Sydney who’d fallen in love with a handsome American soldier. She transferred cash to him because he was in Afghanistan and couldn’t access his accounts. They declared their love for each other. Talked on the phone. Sent flowers and love tokens. Planned to meet in Paris. So romantic. Except that the American soldier was a seventeen-year-old Ghanaian boy sweet-talking women from an internet cafe in Accra. A boy barely older than Felix.
But Luke wasn’t a stranger over the internet. He’d lived here in her home. She’d seen his sick daughter with her own eyes. Cared for them both.
‘I never thought I’d fall for a scam.’ She put her hands over her cheeks; they were hot to touch. Ashamed in front of her own son. ‘I thought I’d spot it a mile off.’
‘Except that you and Dad want to help people. You at school, Dad with the women’s refuges.’
The way Felix said help made it sound like a dirty word.
In the morning, Allison was woken by Felix placing a cup of tea on her bedside table. Tea with just the right amount of milk in her favourite blue dotty mug. Delivered to her in bed. The only time he’d done that before was on Mother’s Day, with Tony directing him. Did Tony make Helena a cup of tea in bed every morning? The thought flashed past and she pushed it away. Felix was here, at home, dressed in his grey school uniform. Allison reached up and stroked his hair, longer than usual. He’d always hated having a cut; she’d been the one to insist upon it.
‘You slept in, Mum. I’ll be back about five this arvo after the soccer trials.’
‘Good luck, sweetheart.’
When Felix leant down to kiss her goodbye, she pulled him into a tight hug.
The blender still sat in the kitchen bin, now covered by the remains of their Indian takeaway. Allison tied up the bag and padded outside to dump it in the wheelie bin. Piled atop the other rubbish were nappies. Dear God, a baby. For one millisecond, she felt sorry for Tony. And then
the outrage was back. How dare he put Felix in that position?
When Tony heard about Luke, would he be saying the same to her?
But Luke wasn’t dangerous. Whatever the situation, Gracie had needed her. And Gracie had blossomed in Wirriga. Over the last three months, she’d made friends, she’d been loved.
Before doing anything else, Allison poured another cup of tea and phoned Nadia. Talked her through the strange set of events. Cried about her own gullibility. Nadia was shocked into silence and then tried to comfort her.
‘It’s not your fault, Al. You’ve got a good heart. Wirriga won’t blame you.’
Allison didn’t believe the reassurances.
Her friend offered to look into Luke’s financials. Allison gave her the bank account details and the name of the cashier who’d helped them with the deposit from Gracie Day.
Unpacking her suitcase, Allison wished she hadn’t thrown away the plastic containers of supplements in Los Angeles. She had photos of the labels on her phone: Super Strong for Super Bones. Great Greens, Great Health. Detox for Cancer. Did they matter now or not? Either way, she’d show them at the police station after she picked up the birth certificate from school.
Samantha wouldn’t be in the office for another half hour so Allison went into the spare room. When Luke had arrived in her house in February, he’d brought so little with him. Now, he’d taken most of that to Chicago. Not Chicago. Allison had to rejig her thoughts. One winter jacket hung in the wardrobe, a set of weights lay at the bottom along with a pair of old running shoes. She opened the drawers—brochures from three different real estate agents. Had he ever actually looked for a place to rent? An empty can of deodorant, Lynx. It smelt just like him.
In a frenzy, she felt through the pockets of his winter coat, shoved her fingers inside the shoes, yanked out the drawers in the bedside table, searched through the bookcase.
Threw his shoes across the room.
‘Lying, cheating, deceiving bastard!’
Allison shoved the mattress from its base and tipped it up. No secrets hidden underneath there. The dust made her sneeze.
The Good Teacher Page 23