‘Mrs Walsh?’
Allison turned to see Gracie and her father walking through the car park. When she’d been hiding in the classroom, she’d noticed them in the playground with a few other children. Luke had been holding his daughter’s waist as she swung her arms along the monkey bars. Despite the white socks she’d put in Gracie’s schoolbag, the girl had come to school in blue socks. Allison guessed that her father hadn’t unpacked her bag. This morning they’d had a quick chat about the next round of chemo. We’ll send out an email reminding children with any infectious disease to stay home, she’d assured him. We’ll respect your privacy, of course. Although everyone would know exactly who had cancer because of the purple bandana.
‘Sorry, I’m having car trouble. I’m waiting for the NRMA.’ She prayed that they hadn’t heard her swearing.
From the frown on Luke’s face, though, it was clear that he had.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘You seem a bit … upset.’
‘Thanks for your concern.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s been a long week.’
Oh no—now, she’d made it sound like Gracie’s arrival was the cause of her exhaustion. Should she try to explain or would that make it worse?
‘I’m sure it has,’ Luke said, smoothing over her gaffe. ‘We were hanging out with some kids in the playground. Meeting other families.’
A single dad going through a tragedy—Allison was sure that the women of Wirriga would take him into their fold. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be scared off by the sick child. Allison hadn’t been very attentive to Gracie today, not to any of her class; her thoughts focused on Tony wanting to sell the house.
‘Where are you living?’ Allison asked. ‘You probably have some school families in your street.’
‘Actually, we’re still in a holiday flat in Manly. It’s opposite the beach, which is great, but now the holidays are over, we’ve got backpackers upstairs. I’m trying to find somewhere to rent in Wirriga. There’s not much available.’
‘It’s because people move in and never leave.’
Apart from Tony.
Gracie pulled at her father’s hand. ‘Can I go on the slide again, Daddy?’
‘I guess we can stay a bit longer,’ Luke said. ‘Do you want to come to the playground with us, Mrs Walsh?’
She followed them over, grateful for the company. Had someone tampered with her car? Was it Tony’s new woman? But why? Helena already had Tony; she’d won.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Luke asked as they watched Gracie clambering around the play equipment.
‘I’m fine, thanks. How’s Gracie coping with the move?’
‘She’s up and down. She misses her mum.’
‘Of course she does.’
Allison still missed her dad and he’d died six years ago.
‘It’s good to be here, though. We came on holiday to Manly when Gracie was a baby. My wife loved this area.’
Luke ran a hand over his face and cupped it around his chin. Was he going to cry?
‘I’m sorry about your wife. It must be very hard.’
‘There are so many things I miss.’ He shut his eyes for a second. ‘And now Gracie’s starting chemo again … we used to care for her together and discuss the treatment plan.’
‘I’m not medical but I know kids. You can talk to me, if you need to.’
‘I’d appreciate that. I seem to be the only single dad in the cancer clinic.’ Tears glistened in his eyes. ‘No-one else understands.’
‘I understand a little,’ she said. ‘I know it’s nothing like your situation, but my husband left me on New Year’s Day. Completely out of the blue. Please don’t mention it to anyone else at school. I’m only telling you because …’
… you share that same sense of loss. Tears were pricking her eyes now.
‘I’m so sorry. That must’ve been such a shock.’
‘We’d been married for twenty-four years. Someone told me that it’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all … She meant well but it was horrible. Why should we have to be the ones who lose?’
‘People think they’re being helpful but they’re not.’ Luke shook his head. ‘How are you doing now? Did you think about getting away? Going overseas? That’s what I wanted to do—but I couldn’t, of course, because of Gracie’s treatment.’
‘I thought about it.’ She hesitated before admitting to her phobia. ‘I’m scared of flying.’
Another thing that had probably driven Tony away. Her refusal to go on a plane, to accompany him to the funeral in England. Allison would like to disappear now; magically fly away on the weekend and not turn up to school on Monday.
‘We’re all scared of something,’ Luke mumbled.
Her fears were pathetic—flying, being scared of the dark without her husband in the house. Luke’s fear must surely be the worst one. After coming home from the restaurant last night, instead of finishing a bottle of wine, Allison had researched Gracie’s disease. The girl wouldn’t even be able to pronounce it: thymic carcinoma, with the complication of an autoimmune disorder, acquired pure red cell aplasia. Extremely rare in children. And with a ‘poor prognosis’, according to the website she’d found. No wonder Luke had moved to Sydney for a specialist.
‘So, Gracie’s starting chemotherapy again next Friday, is that right?’
‘Yep. That means she’ll have a chance to recover over the weekend—though she’ll also be away this Monday for some blood tests. Still, Dr Rawson reckons she should be able to come to school most days. I know it’ll be tricky, but I want her to make some friends.’
‘I’m sure she will. It’s a friendly school.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Walsh.’ He smiled properly for the first time. ‘Gracie’s lucky to have such a good teacher.’
Allison knew the chatter which happened in the school playground at the beginning of each year: Which class is your child in? Did she get the good teacher?
The good teacher.
A year ago, Allison had been ‘the good teacher’. Not now.
On Saturday morning, Allison crossed her fingers as she started the Mazda. A flat battery, the NRMA guy had said last night as he’d charged it up. Presumably not related to the scratches down the side of the car, then. Had she left a light on or a door partially open yesterday? Allison had no idea.
To her relief, it fired up normally. She’d arranged to meet Felix at Warringah Mall to go shoe-shopping. Up until now, Allison had been ignoring Tony’s emails about dividing their assets, certain that he’d come to his senses. Yesterday, he’d sent a message about organising a real estate agent to look at the house. Soon they’d have to discuss the everyday logistics of paying for textbooks and soccer registration and school shoes.
Half an hour later, Felix was begging her for the most expensive shoes he’d tried on: a pair of black Nikes.
‘I’ll buy them if you stay with me on Monday nights,’ Allison said.
Bribing her son with footwear. How had it come to this?