by Fiona Palmer
And now in the Monday morning sunshine, as Nat shut the door to her little blue house, she felt like singing again. It was her first day of school and she felt like a lamb, bouncing with each step. Nat loved getting to school early. Even as a child she had been fascinated by the long empty corridors and still rooms. Maybe it was the anticipation of what was about to begin, being able to watch everyone arrive, chatting and running around. It was no different being a teacher. Each step towards the tiny school filled her veins with adrenaline and excitement. Birds chirped in the nearby trees as a gentle breeze rattled the leaves. It was warm in the sunshine but not enough to bring a sweat – that would come later on, with a forecast top of thirty-eight degrees.
‘Hello, you must be Natalie. Welcome.’ A medium-height lady in a perfectly ironed pencil skirt and blue blouse walked to the school gate and pulled Natalie into a hug. ‘Hi, I’m Kath, the registrar.’ Kath’s grey hair was short and neat, her nails filed. There was no missing the cigarette stains on her fingers and the lingering scent of smoke. ‘So great to have you here. Gosh, I love your dress,’ she said, eventually letting Nat go.
‘Hi, Kath. Lovely to meet you finally.’ Nat had been emailing Kath and felt fully prepared for her first day. She knew her kids’ names, their ages, and who the rest of the staff were. Kath had said there was no need to get to the school any earlier than the kids’ first day, that she’d cope just fine and would settle in within the week, guaranteed. Pulling out two sets of keys from her bag, Kath gave one to Nat and opened the school building with the other. The door caught on the jarrah floorboards and Kath used her shoulder to push it open like she’d done it a million times. Inside, the boards ran the length of the school. Long benches sat outside each classroom, where the kids would put their schoolbags, with rows of hooks above for their hats and jackets. Windows ran along the length of the outside wall, and Nat knew they would soon be filled up with the children’s work.
Their heels clicked against the hard floor as Kath led Nat down the corridor. ‘That’s the library room, then the senior room, which is Grace’s. This is the principal’s office, where I sit too. And this one is yours, with the staffroom at the end.’ A flutter of excitement rippled through her as they paused by the door to her classroom. Inside it was rather bleak and lifeless: white walls, blue-grey carpet and a big blackboard. It had a plain, nunnery-like feel, but the sight of the small desks and little blue chairs made her smile. Tiny bottoms belonging to bright-eyed children would soon be sitting there. There were twelve children in Nat’s class and she had taken much delight in making all the nametags for their desks the previous night, along with a small sheet of the cursive alphabet for the younger ones. Her laminator had run hot, covering phonics charts, a day chart and a poster with their classroom rules. The school probably had its own large laminator but Nat hadn’t been able to resist buying her own, along with an array of bright stickers and fancy paper, not to mention her own stationery. To Nat, the smell of hot melted plastic was almost as alluring as fresh flowers and she couldn’t wait to get the nametags out of her large tote and start sticking them to the desks.
Kath must have sensed her eagerness. ‘I’ll let you get sorted. If you need anything I’ll be just next door.’
‘Thank you, Kath,’ Nat said, getting to work. She rearranged the desks, settling on a U-shape, then stuck on the nametags and hung up her posters. She looked around – it was definitely feeling a little brighter already. Soon, with the kids’ work to exhibit, it would be a room full of colour and excitement, just like her Year 1 class with Mrs Smithe had been.
Truth be told, it was Mrs Smithe who had made being a teacher seem like the grandest and most alluring job. Nat had idolised her. She’d had more attention, comfort and understanding from Mrs Smithe than from her own parents. Then, in Year 3, she’d had another wonderful teacher in Miss Parish. Nat could remember wanting to impress her so much and, right from those early years, being a primary school teacher had been her only dream. Other kids had changed their minds, but not Nat. She was finally living her dream and it was everything she’d hoped for and more.
She actually felt tingles watching kids arrive by bus, flooding into the school in a flurry of chatter and schoolbags. Her bright-faced kids came inside and crowded around her, as if she was a shiny new toy. Everyone wanted to touch her and feel her clothes, especially the girls. She took in their faces; at the moment they were all unfamiliar but soon she’d know them all so well. Then they’d really be her kids. Just thinking the words made her squeeze her hands together with joy. Sure, she’d worked in a school before, but this was her first posting, her first real class.
By Friday morning, Nat couldn’t believe it had only been a week. It felt like a month had passed with all the things they’d done. Already the walls were covered in artwork and maths sheets. Just about anything she could put up she did, just to make the classroom feel more inviting. Now she was stapling the laminated titles of the books they would be reading this term to the pin-up board before the bus arrived.
‘Gosh, you don’t waste any time.’
Nat turned to see Kath, who smiled as she pushed back her short, grey hair. Nat admired the way Kath always came to work in a pencil skirt and blouse, stockings and nice shoes, showing that the job still demanded respect even in such a small school. The previous day Kath had mentioned she was in her sixties, and had seen all her kids through this school, as well as some of her grandkids. Nat also learnt that Jess from the shop was Kath’s granddaughter. She thought of what Grace, the senior teacher, had told her: ‘Kath has been here nearly longer than the school.’
‘It’s the best part of the day.’
‘Yet another gorgeous dress. Don’t you worry the kids will paint it or accidentally glue glitter to it?’ Kath’s face crinkled with lines.
Nat laughed, flattening the material of her designer V-neck dress. It was black down the sides, with a white centre and a beautiful rose pattern overlay. ‘I have others.’
With a smile, Kath left her to her morning routine. Nat quickly finished getting her desk organised, along with her sheets for that morning’s lessons.
‘Good morning, Miss Wright,’ said a tiny voice from the doorway.
‘Good morning, Lucy.’ Lucy still had her bag on her back – it was half her size and Nat was amazed that the child could carry it. She was one of the town kids who walked to school. Her green school shirt looked two sizes too big and nearly hid her black shorts. She had one pink sock and one yellow sock, and her shoelace was undone. ‘Don’t forget to do up your shoelace, Lucy,’ she prompted while the child tugged on one pigtail. Lucy shrugged and Nat went over and tied it up for her. All her kids were special. Ruby had the reddest lips and a dad who sat at the table in jocks – as she’d reported for show-and-tell on her first day. Liam had all the freckles and a pet bobtail, and Ava always had a runny nose and sniffed a lot. Jack had solid little legs like tree trunks and told her repeatedly that his dad took him shooting cans. Zara seemed to have her head in the clouds, and her uniform had been inside-out on her second day. Mallory and Seth were siblings. So were Mia and Noah. Isaac thought he was a cowboy and was constantly shooting things, and Billy was shy and wore long-sleeved shirts and pants every day despite the heat.
Natalie stepped outside as the two buses pulled up, and watched the children big and small descend on the school. Mia tripped over and a senior boy helped her up and checked she was okay.
‘How have you liked your first week?’ The principal, Ross, had appeared beside her, white shirt straining around his belly, the buttons threatening to pop.
‘It’s been wonderful. I can’t get over how different it is from a city school. The size, the mixed classrooms and the way the kids all get on.’
‘I know. I was a big city schoolteacher for a few years.’ His thick hair hardly moved as he shook his head. The sides were greying considerably. ‘The country kids seem more tolerant and helpful. Perhaps when you know everyone it’s harder to get
away with being a troublemaker.’
‘I keep waiting for the novelty of having a new teacher to wear off but they are all just so eager to please me. I’m loving it,’ she admitted.
‘Good, I’m glad,’ he said, before twenty kids’ voices overpowered his.
With their bright morning faces, they all greeted her and the principal before going back to their lively discussions.
Natalie studied one of her eight-year-olds as he took off his schoolbag and hung up his hat with meticulous care. He was again wearing long pants and a full-length shirt. ‘Morning, Billy. Don’t you get hot in pants?’
The boy cocked his head to the side. ‘Sometimes.’ His voice was soft, unlike most of the other boys, who practically yelled.
After she gathered her class together, they began their morning by going through the day chart and then sharing their news. The children’s ‘news’ was sometimes the highlight of her day, and also a good way to get to know them better.
It was Noah’s turn. ‘Last night my dad kicked our dog, Brute, because he was fighting with our other dog, Tonka, near my little sister. He yelled at them both and said swear words.’
The class giggled and Nat realised she’d been holding her breath, hoping Noah wouldn’t say the swear words. ‘Well, that’s no good, Noah. It can be a bit dangerous around dogs when they’re angry.’ She nodded for him to sit back down and then clapped her hands together to get their attention. ‘Now, this morning you’re going to do an activity that will help me learn a little bit more about you all. So, when I’m finished, I want you to take a large sheet of paper from my desk and draw me a picture of your favourite place.’ As she’d expected, kids started yelling out.
‘My cubby house.’
‘The tractor.’
‘The water slide.’
Nat waved her hands to shush them. ‘Listen. Year 1s, 2s and 3s, you will also have to write about it: where it is, why it’s your favourite place and so on. I’ll be around to help you. Okay, off you go.’
While paper shuffled and pencils rattled, Nat glanced at her phone. It was angled on her desk towards the window, the only spot it got good signal, and she thought of her friend Alisha, who had posted another photo on Facebook last night of herself at their favourite nightclub. It said, ‘Missing my BFF.’
She gazed back over her class, their heads bent over their work. She got up and moved around the room, helping the younger ones write, asking them about their pictures. When she got to Billy she stopped and stared at the headstone and cross on his page. Surely it couldn’t be a cemetery? Holding the desk, she knelt down beside him.
‘Hey, Billy.’ She spoke softly so as not to draw the attention of the other kids. She didn’t want him teased. ‘What’s your favourite place?’
‘It’s where my nana is,’ he said as he coloured with a black pencil.
‘Oh, I see. Do you go there often?’ Nat glanced at the nearby kids; some had turned to look but none of them laughed or teased. If anything, this seemed normal.
‘Sometimes, with Dad. We sit and talk to her. Dad said that she can hear us and that she’s watching over us.’
Nat swallowed hard. Billy’s gentle words had moved her. She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You must miss her.’
He turned his bright blue eyes towards her. ‘I miss her butterfly cakes and poems. And her hugs.’ The power of his gaze went right through her, as if he was secretly telling her all about his pain and loss. As her eyes started to gloss, he put his hand on her arm and smiled. ‘It’s okay.’
Nat felt strange, as if this dear little boy had tried to comfort her. Could he tell just how heartbroken she felt for him? Billy seemed wise beyond his years. His little angelic face tilted slightly. Then he frowned and looked back at his work. ‘How do you spell “favourite”?’
In a flash the moment was gone, the pause button lifted, and life continued. ‘I think that’s a good word for the blackboard, Billy.’ As Nat walked to the front, her heart ached for him. He was different from the other kids – timid, sometimes a loner, softly spoken and reserved. After just a week, she felt as if Billy was a kid with an old soul, who flitted through life like a butterfly.
She picked up some chalk to spell out the word for them all. So many schools had whiteboards or fancy projector screens these days, but having a blackboard made her feel just like Mrs Smithe. Even the smell of the chalk dust felt right. And the kids fought over who got to clean the dusters.
At lunchtime, Nat was sticking the kids’ work up on the wall when Grace popped her head in.
‘Would you like a cuppa? Ross has gone out on yard duty.’ Grace saw the picture Nat had just put up and smiled sadly. ‘Oh, is that Billy’s?’
‘Yes. How did you know? Did his nana pass away recently?’
Grace nodded and her shoulder-length bob swayed. Her fringe was long but didn’t quite cover the scar along her forehead. ‘About three months ago. Alice Saddler was a wonderful lady and a good friend. She was well known and loved in this community.’ Grace took a moment, her eyes glistening, before she continued. ‘She died from a metastatic melanoma.’
Nat’s mouth dropped open. ‘Is that why Billy dresses in full-length clothes?’
‘Yeah. He’s been a stickler for it ever since. I hear he gives his Dad curry every time he wears shorts. It’s a hard lesson for a little boy.’
‘He was very close to her?’
‘Oh, yeah. I mean most kids are close to their grandparents around here because they all live on the farms together, but Alice was the one who helped bring Billy up.’
Nat frowned as they walked to the staffroom. Outside, kids were trying to eat their lunch quickly so they could go play. ‘No mother?’
‘No. She died not long after he was born.’ Grace turned on the kettle and got out two cups from the cupboard.
Kath was at the table stirring a mug of soup. ‘Kettle should still be hot. You talking about Billy?’
‘Yeah. He seems like a gorgeous kid. Out of all of them he seems the sweetest, but . . .’ Nat wasn’t sure how to explain it – and what if she was wrong?
‘He’s a bit different?’ added Grace.
‘Yes. Has he been . . . tested?’ Nat asked carefully as she took her lunchbox from the fridge with her homemade salad.
‘They took him to doctors but they said he wasn’t “bad” enough to put under any label. Alice did a lot of after-school work with him to help keep him up with his year but now she’s gone, you might find him slipping backwards.’
Nat walked across the black-and-white checked lino and sat at the table. Grace brought over their cups before fetching her lunch from the fridge.
‘All right. Is there anything I should keep an eye out for?’ Nat asked.
‘He withdraws into himself and can sometimes have anxiety attacks but I’ve seen the way you are with the kids – you’ll be fine,’ said Grace with a smile. ‘He just needs patience and understanding. You seem to have that in spades. So are you excited about this afternoon?’
Nat groaned as she chewed a mouthful of salad. ‘Not sure,’ she mumbled.
Kath laughed, and it sounded like one of the birds Nat had heard that morning on her walk to school. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s just a meet and greet and, believe me, you’d rather get it all over and done with in one go. It will save all the gawking every time you go to the shop.’
‘I guess. I’m heading to Perth afterwards, though, so I can’t stick around for too long.’
‘Really? Are you going to do that every weekend?’ asked Grace.
‘God, I hope not.’ Nat stabbed her fork at a cherry tomato. ‘I still need a few things I forgot and everyone will want to see I’m still alive. They think I’ve gone to the end of the earth.’ Gary, for one. ‘God forbid they might actually come and visit me.’ She was actually looking forward to getting back to Perth, as the annual Wright–Hutchinson get-together was on. For years they had celebrated the friendship of these two families, as far back as Nat could r
emember, but this year would be different: this year, Nat Wright was dating Gary Hutchinson. He was eight years older than her, and she’d had a crush on him her whole childhood. Six months ago he’d finally asked her out, and they’d been together ever since. And the families couldn’t be happier.
‘Ha, good luck with that,’ said Grace. ‘I’ve got friends and family in Perth who have never come out here, yet they expect me to drop in and see them all the time. I was staying in Midland once and even that was too far away for them.’ She shook her head in dismay.
Nat actually hoped there was some truth to Grace’s words. She liked having Lake Biddy to herself. She was worried that if her parents and friends saw how remote it was they’d try to talk her into coming home. Nat just wanted one year to herself. A year doing a job that she’d wanted to do her whole life. Was that too much to ask?
Chapter 3
‘DAD, can I ride on the back with Turbo?’
‘Sure, mate. Just be careful,’ said Drew as he watched his son clamber up the side of the ute.
‘Turbo, stop it! Don’t lick. Let me get up.’
Drew tried not to laugh as Turbo showed his delight, licking madly and knocking off his son’s hat.
‘Turrrboooo.’ Billy thrust his wide-brim hat back on his little head and sighed like an old man. It was still hot at four in the afternoon, the sun bearing down.
Drew lifted his own head so he could glimpse the harsh rays from under his hat. Sweat coated his neck but the gentle breeze brought some relief. He glanced at his son, sitting down on the tray beside the dog with the heat shimmering in the background. It was moments like these on their farm, Dragon Rock, that really made him feel thankful.