1
ALLISON
Term 1, February
Allison greeted every child by name as they came into the classroom. Day three of the school year and the terrified faces were beginning to relax slightly.
‘Do you want to do a puzzle or play with the blocks?’ Allison asked each one.
While the children settled into their chosen activity, a transition from their parents to the school day, Allison smoothed out the name tag on the empty desk. GRACIE. A late enrolment. During the staff meeting on Monday, Allison had been hoping the girl would be placed in the other kindergarten class.
‘I’ve put Gracie with you, Allison, because you’re the most experienced,’ the principal had said. ‘She’s going through a tough time.’
So am I.
Allison had clenched her teeth to stop the words coming out. For God’s sake, how could she compare herself with this poor little girl?
‘I’ll do my best.’
The principal didn’t know yet; he’d find out soon enough, along with the rest of the staff. And the parents.
‘We need to ensure the school is accepting and welcoming,’ Declan said.
‘Yes, of course.’ Allison tried to smile. ‘After all, that’s what we’re known for.’
At the end of last year, Wirriga Public School had won an award for its Christmas project, 12 Days of Giving. Twelve activities to support communities in need, including a food drive for farmers in drought and a clothing collection for bushfire victims. The children and their parents had felt they were making a small difference as the TV news streamed never-ending images of Australia’s scorched landscape.
Back then, Allison hadn’t known that her own life would be in ashes by New Year’s Day.
‘Ah, here they are,’ Allison announced to the class. ‘This is Gracie and her dad. Welcome to the Wirriga Wombats! A desk over here has your name on it, Gracie.’
Allison wondered how the children would react to Gracie’s purple bandana. Earlier, she’d given them a brief explanation, and encouraged kindness and respect. Would they ask to see Gracie’s bare scalp? The girl’s face and arms were pale, unlike the other sun-kissed bodies which had spent the long summer holidays playing on the beach.
‘Everyone, let’s give Gracie a big welcome.’
‘Hello, Gracie.’ A singsong greeting from the whole class.
‘Gracie has come all the way from Victoria. The biggest city is Melbourne. Has anyone been there? Ask the person next to you while I have a quick chat to Gracie’s dad.’
The father was standing near Gracie’s desk, a purple backpack dangling from his wrist.
‘We hang the bags on these hooks just outside the door.’ She led him to the corridor.
‘I’m really sorry Gracie couldn’t come on the first day,’ he said. ‘This whole move and the new hospital … it’s been crazy.’
Luke Branson had already apologised yesterday when she’d met him at lunchtime. He’d handed over a letter from the children’s hospital about Gracie’s compromised immune system. Explained that they’d moved to Sydney for a doctor who was researching this rare cancer—and to get away from the memories. His voice had cracked when he’d said that.
‘We’ll take good care of Gracie,’ she promised.
‘Thank you, Mrs Walsh.’
The voice was deeper than she expected from someone in his late twenties; his hair closely cropped—shaved in solidarity with his daughter, Allison guessed. It made his eyes seem even bigger. Sad eyes full of pain.
The little girl appeared beside them in the corridor, wrapping herself around her father’s legs.
‘Don’t go, Daddy.’
Allison noted that Gracie’s socks were black instead of white. And her dress a size too big. She’d take her to the uniform shop at recess and sort her out.
‘Gracie, do you want to do a puzzle with Daddy?’
As Allison led them to the puzzles corner, she breathed in deeply. Come on, you can do this. Over two decades at different schools, she’d never taught a child undergoing treatment for cancer. Why-oh-why did it have to be this year?
Forcing a smile, she turned to the girl and her father.
‘Look at this golden lion, Gracie. Do you think you can put the pieces back together?’
‘Yes! I can do it!’
Gracie sat cross-legged with the puzzle pieces out in front of her. Her father smiled his thanks and squatted down in one smooth motion. A gym type in his black Adidas shorts and t-shirt. Allison predicted it would take half an hour before he was able to leave. She brought Gracie’s table buddy, Evelyn, over to join them—that should ease the separation.
‘I have a book with a lion in it too.’ Allison showed Aesop’s Fables to the whole class. ‘We’ll sit on the mat and read it together.’
While Allison told the story of the brave lion and the timid mouse, she watched Gracie finish the puzzle and edge towards the mat. The girl was still holding on to her father’s hand. He took her hand, kissed it and placed it in her lap. Then he adjusted the purple bandana and whispered in her ear. For the next few minutes, he stood by the door. When Gracie swivelled around to check on him, the father waved then stepped out into the corridor.
Would she rush after him?
‘So the moral of this story is that even a teeny-weeny mouse can help save a great big lion.’ Allison raised her voice to catch Gracie’s attention. ‘Aesop says that no-one is too little to do good. Every act of kindness, even a small one, can really matter. Now, who can make a squeaky noise like a little mouse?’
‘Squeak, squeak, squeak.’ The class giggled between their squeaking.
‘And what about a big ROAR?’
The boys and girls opened their mouths wide to roar as loud as they could. When they’d finished, one noise continued—the sound of sobbing.
Allison put the book aside and squatted next to Gracie. She patted the girl’s back and explained how everyone in the class had started new this week. Allison doubted that Gracie could hear over the crying.
‘Evelyn, can you please pass Winnie the Wombat for Gracie to cuddle?’
As Allison tucked the class mascot into Gracie’s lap, a head appeared around the classroom door.
‘Am I being as quiet as a teeny-weeny mouse?’ asked Gracie’s dad.
The children burst out laughing. Gracie’s laugh was the loudest.
Despite the brave smile, Allison could see the man’s heart was breaking. It wasn’t often that the father was the one trying to leave a child at kindy. He sat back down on the floor next to Gracie, put his arm around her, and stroked Winnie the Wombat. If Luke Branson had to stay until recess, so be it. This little girl needed extra-special care.
For the next two hours, Allison didn’t think about her own problems once.
At recess, Allison fitted Gracie with the right-sized uniform and popped three pairs of white socks into her bag. Her father had left just after ten o’clock and the girl seemed settled. At lunch, when the other kids ran into the playground, Allison led Gracie and Evelyn into the library. With her sun sensitivity from chemotherapy, Gracie had to avoid playing outside at midday.
‘Girls, this is Ms McCormack, our wonderful librarian.’