The Good Teacher

by Richard Anderson

  He had not asked her. Wasn’t she already out of the city? Hadn’t Jennifer said Abi was coming to stay because she was ‘passing through’?

  BROCK

  Why Detective Johnson wanted a get-together, Brock had no idea. He couldn’t see what had changed and what would change. Monday was a pupil-free day before the first day of the new term that he was so anxious to get into, but he had this get-together to endure. Seeing Jennifer again, close up, terrified him for all sorts of reasons. He knew the attraction would be heart-palpitating but he was also nervous about her indignant rage. She would definitely assume he was behind the meeting, trying to get back at her or back to her. Nothing good could come from this.

  The only positive thing was that Sarah had offered to come as support. Sarah would be a terrific bulwark—she’d been a saviour all along. With her there, he might be able to resist the physical magnetism of Jennifer. There was a genuine possibility that if Jennifer rubbed her hand down her throat in that particular way, or moved backwards from the table with her oblivious cat-like stretch, Brock would crumple.

  Other than remaining upright he didn’t have a strategy. He hoped this was not about the assault charge. He had no idea what the other people in the meeting intended, especially Detective Johnson, who might well be about to tell him he had to serve some time behind bars for burning down a school.

  Something else nagged at him, like a small child endlessly pulling on his shirtsleeve. His need for Jennifer was undeniable, almost uncontrollable, but he had felt something similar, albeit less powerful, for Emily. He had let desire, and probably weakness, lead him places he knew he shouldn’t go. It was okay to make mistakes, everyone did, but to keep making the same mistake made you a fool and not a man. He wondered if he had what it took to be a man.

  He chose a pale yellow tie to go with his white short-sleeved shirt above bone-coloured shorts and clean socks. It was his reckoning that it was best to go in work clothes, looking like he was a serious person, indeed, a principal. The mirror said he looked okay and when he opened the door to a firm knock, he felt himself flush at the pleasure of seeing Sarah.

  MADISON

  How had Abi come to be sitting at their dinner table, smiling so sweetly? What had been a monotonously predictable, unchanging world had become a soap opera of bit parts and ridiculous storylines.

  Her mother had said, in passing, that Aunt (aunt?) Abi had come to stay for a couple of nights: ‘Just happened to be travelling through. Isn’t that nice?’ The possibility that this was true seemed as remote as you could imagine, but whether her father had organised it or Abi was behind it, Madison was yet to find out. If it was her father, Madison felt that what she had set up for her mother with the detective was even more important. A hook-up between Abi and Andy would complicate things even more for her mother. The principal was back in his job, so her disquiet on that score had somewhat lessened. He must have supporters, which was good. But what if her mother or father or Mack began campaigning to get rid of him again? Apparently the principal had kissed Jennifer in the P&C meeting just before he left town. What could you make of that?

  She had excused herself from dinner, cranky and disappointed in all of them. To top it off, Ian’s texts were beginning to plead. The one that came in when she got to her bedroom said he was nothing without her. It was really just too much.

  She withdrew to her painting of Mack. It was finished. She had finally got the eyes right. Finding him lying in the frost, his eyes so bright, had made her realise the portrait needed to be about those eyes. The shape of the head, the hair, the crags in the face, the droop of the mouth were just landscape for the eyes. She had made the irises slightly brighter, bluer than you would expect, so they were the first thing you saw. But she couldn’t stop fiddling: darkening a skin tone here, tanning the hair there, all the time asking herself if she’d overdone the eyes.

  The next day was different. It was the strangest thing. When she saw her dad and Abi together there had been a change. Whatever it was that had been between them was gone. They could have been acting, but she was certain her father was not. He was a bad liar. There was no way he could conceal feelings like that. They had got over themselves, realised they had commitments and responsibilities and moved on, or something like that. It surprised and pleased her and made her more confident in what she had set out to do.

  When she had rung the detective, prepared for him to laugh her off, she was pleased he took her seriously. Her plan was such a long shot that she had geared up to be insistent and bloody-minded. It hadn’t gone that way. She had unknowingly pinpointed a great lump of guilt in the detective.

  It was clear he felt some sort of culpability for what had happened in Stony Creek and she could only guess it was because he hadn’t done a very thorough job in the first place. So when she made her suggestion, there was silence on the line and then boyish, exuberant agreement. It was as if she could hear him grinning. They agreed on a plan and he ended the conversation overly thankful.

  Madison would have liked to visit Mack (he was home again) and see if he could make sense of it all but there wasn’t enough time. It was a day of reckoning and she had to keep an eye out for the detective.

  SARAH

  So now there was to be a meeting between Brock and Jennifer and the detective. No-one seemed to know what it was about. It had come out of nowhere but no doubt Jennifer was the instigator. She was probably going to pin something on Brock, something that would make him go away forever.

  Sarah had rallied the troops once but only in the nicest possible way. Now was the time to call in the cavalry. She had to put her own name on the line and see if her community would come with her. If they didn’t give a show of support, Brock was done.

  The tried and true method for dealing with a problem like this was a working bee. She needed to get people together in the same space, working, talking and facing each other. Angela had been trying for ages to get some work done on the front garden bed. She wanted daisies and salvia as a long line of welcome. If the working bee was held outside the meeting, the detective and Jennifer would be reminded of the committed, vocal parent body. They would make decisions about the principal’s future at their own risk. If she couldn’t stop Brock being pushed out of the school then at least they could bear witness.

  So, on the Fresh Well golf course on Wednesday, after she accidentally hit a beautiful, straight drive off the eighteenth tee, she told Betty Thomson about the hot vibe she had sensed between the principal and the head of the P&C long before that much-mused-over kiss, the cigarettes in Jennifer’s bag, and the implication of them. She reminded Betty of the brilliance of Brock’s teaching. Then she told her about the meeting, the working bee and her belief that a show of P&C numbers was essential.

  Every community had their clarion and Betty took her role as trumpeter very seriously. Sarah told Betty on the last hole because she was a fair person and she knew that if she told Betty on the first the information would have destroyed her friend’s game. As it was, it ruined the eighteenth for Betty. She kept asking Sarah for more details and managed to five putt the green. She could hardly get her sticks into her car at the end of the round and then, on her way out, frantic texting caused her to swerve at the gateway and nearly hit the club signpost.

  Within twenty-four hours Sarah received a phone call from Angela and then Pam agreeing to a working bee on the day of the meeting to deal with that long-neglected garden bed. There would be no need to notify Jennifer. She had enough on her plate. They all agreed the men must come too. Men could be helpful in a dispute, and community included everyone. She asked Betty to ask Susie Green to organise the plants for the garden bed and to make sure that Susie understood that Jennifer and Brock were way too busy to be asked to attend.

  DETECTIVE JOHNSON

  He drove with the flowers on the seat beside him. The florist had sprayed some stuff on their cut ends to help them last and Detective Johnson wondered if he shouldn’t have asked for some
of that spray for himself. He was nervous, unsettled, his jeans and casual shirt sticking to him, even with the air-conditioning rattling full on. Most of his interviews followed a predictable pattern: he asked the usual questions and often already knew the answers. He was always in control: the interview was normally on his turf, under his terms, and he had the badge. This one was different. It would be a difficult performance with players he would have to carefully manage. Jennifer would be cranky, the principal confused, and anyone else who came would be against him, the outsider.

  If his colleagues (or his wife) knew what he was doing, they would be incredulous. Why was he getting involved in community matters like this? But the girl had convinced him that there were more important things than good odds and technical defences. At least, he was convinced when he talked to her. Right now he was feeling less than convinced and more like he had been sold a pup by a particularly bright young woman. What did he care about these people and their small concerns? It was nothing to do with him. Several times he contemplated a U-turn or quick escape down an old exit. So far he had resisted, and he was close enough now for it to be too late. In these small communities, unfamiliar cars were noticed, interlopers recorded in memory banks. He would be seen and then have to give them some old chat about being called back to the station on urgent business. So he pressed on, until, from the other side of a rise, the school jumped out at him, its bright colours and neat green grounds heralding a small fairground in the middle of nowhere.

  He parked and sat looking at the school, going over what he needed to say. It was ten minutes to ten and there were no other cars at the school. Perhaps they weren’t coming. He could go home and forget the whole thing. And then he saw the long figure of Brock strolling from the schoolhouse to the classroom and beside him a short, round woman. It was that nice Sarah. He forced himself out of the car and they waved at him. There was something plain likeable about Brock. He imagined the kids felt it too. That must help when you’re a teacher.

  Detective Johnson knew people did not easily like him. They judged him quickly: a big, insignificant man who struggled with clothing. Normally it didn’t worry him and, as often as not, worked in his favour, but today it made him feel vulnerable. Today there was nothing to hide behind.

  And then it struck him that, with all his nerves, he had forgotten to pick up the girl. He’d promised to pick her up from her front gate on the way through. He slid back into the driver’s seat, shut the door and yelled out the window to Brock and Sarah that he’d be back in a minute.

  He drove fast down the rocky road, cursing himself and wondering if Madison would be standing at her mailbox when her parents drove past. And then, in a minute, there they were, driving in the opposite direction, fixing on him in surprise when they realised he was driving the wrong way. He drove faster and at the Booth mailbox put the car into a four-wheel drift, pulling the nose of the vehicle back in the direction of the school. There was no sign of Madison. He sat panting, wondering what to do. If she was a no show then he would be too. He would turn the car around and keep on driving. But she was riding up her driveway in faded jeans and bright floral shirt, leaning her bike against the mailbox, and he was smiling and stretching over to open the door for her. She looked thin-lipped and stressed, which worried him because she had been so confident and focused on the phone.

  ‘Detective.’ She got in and put the flowers in her lap.

  ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She was pretty, pretty enough to get her own way, but that wouldn’t count today.

  They drove without talking, suppressing their fidgeting, until they neared Mack’s front gate.

  She startled him and possibly herself by saying: ‘Can we stop here? I think I’d like to have Grandpa Mack along.’

  He was going to say it wasn’t the sort of meeting that needed a crowd but figured the girl might need the support of someone else in her family when her parents worked out she knew more about them than they realised.

  He pulled sharply into Mack’s driveway and Madison got out and ran up the steps. The old guy looked like he had been waiting for them all along. She got Mack into the car and they set off again, not talking until they neared the school grounds.

  He dropped Madison and Mack off a little way from the main gate, said something idiotic like ‘See you soon’, and proceeded to his parking spot. There were other cars there now. Four people waited outside the schoolroom, spread out like the strangers they weren’t.

  IAN

  He had taken to driving past her mailbox, hoping to see her on her horse or catch her on her way somewhere. He was driving the road so much he was sure Andy or Jennifer were going to stop him and ask if everything was all right. Everything was far from all right. Madison replied to all his messages, but with a detached attitude that suggested she now viewed him as an uncle she wasn’t sure she liked. And meanwhile Sarah was becoming more and more self-assured. He was getting the message loud and clear that if he strayed again she would not kick him out but she wouldn’t care either. He still had a house, a farm and his kids (which was supposed to be a win), but he had lost on all other fronts. He didn’t have Sarah and he couldn’t get to Madison. In the past weeks, with their cool indifference, both of them had managed to make him want them more than ever. Sarah’s confidence made him hot for her, in spite of himself, and his ardour seemed to make her even less interested in him (if that was possible). The bedroom door was always pushed shut with an extra click. Meanwhile, Madison was a siren of his imagination, maddeningly just out of reach. So every second day he drove the road, turned round and came back, then did it again. He never saw her but he was certain that his luck would eventually hold. It stood to reason.

  And then, on the day Sarah was going to some big school meeting with the principal and a detective, Ian passed Jennifer and Andy in their car, going towards Stony Creek. It was the best news of the week. Even if the school meeting took only ten minutes he knew he had half an hour to find Madison and talk to her. At their mailbox, he swung his ute hard into the turn and sped down the road towards her house. Halfway along, she was there, riding a bike up the hill, looking like an ad for beautiful, unreachable things.

  He pulled over and smiled at her. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Mum and Dad just left.’

  ‘I know. I was looking for you.’

  ‘Why?’

  Her skin was light gold and faultless.

  ‘I wanted to see you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I really like you, Madison.’ He gave her one of his best good-man smiles. ‘We could be good together.’

  ‘I’m not interested. Don’t you see that?’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ He tried to do the thing with his eyes. ‘You’re being difficult because you think that’s what you’re supposed to be. We had fun. I know you had fun and I know you like me.’

  ‘I did like you and I made a mistake. I’m sorry about that, but I don’t intend to make that mistake again.’

  He leered and moved to get out of the ute. ‘I want you and I know you can’t resist me. And since there’s no one about …’

  Madison walked her bike forward, took her phone from her pocket, held it up at him and started to take photos. ‘I’m about to meet a policeman at our mailbox. You’re welcome to come too. I now have a photo of you in our driveway, with a date and time: evidence you were here. If you think you can harass me I will give this photo to my father and maybe the policeman for good luck.’ She put the phone away, pushed off on her bike and said ‘See ya’, leaving him in the ute, chastened and downcast.

  He stayed where he was until she had disappeared and then turned the ute around and drove back out the driveway. On the main road he pulled over and stopped on the side of the table drain. He had no idea where to go. Desire was driving him to stupidity and he couldn’t stand the thought of another night on his own. Masturbation, once his recreation, had turned into a lonely, unsatisfying compulsion.

  The thought
of Madison—how she looked, the certainty in her moves, the rich confidence in her voice—wouldn’t let him go home. It had taken so long to get face to face with her again that he wasn’t ready to wait for another chance. But she had already said ‘No’ as plainly as anyone could.

  In his desperate search for solutions he thought of Jennifer. Maybe he could get with Jennifer. She was much older but still in shape and as good a substitute for Madison as anyone could hope for. It was kind of mad, but she’d been with the principal so maybe there was a chance she might be up for a bit of extracurricular with someone else.

  He kicked up his machine and lurched back on the road. He would go to the school to try one more time to convince Madison. If that failed he would start some moves towards Jennifer.

  JENNIFER

  Andy eventually got back from the train. When she looked out the kitchen window she could see him sitting in the car waiting for her, smiling like an idiot. Men never seemed to work out how transparent they were. He and Abi had tried hard to conceal their animal lust but it was obvious to Jennifer and she guessed Madison must have seen it too. How could she not? It was quite revolting really. As if they were sixteen-year-olds. Jennifer was embarrassed for both of them.

  Madison was studying so Jennifer called out as she left: ‘Back soon’, and received a muffled reply of assent.

  Jennifer felt good and strong. She was back in control of herself and her destiny, and her husband had, in the past forty-eight hours, become someone she couldn’t stand to be around. She was ready to go to the school and set out the new rules. But first she needed to put Andy in his place. As they drove out the front ramp, she said: ‘I know what you’ve been up to with Abi.’

  His happy face went suddenly slapped-red, but despite his squirming discomfort he didn’t deny anything. He was very quiet and she wondered if he was sulking, and then he said ‘Jennifer …’ as she had expected him to.