The Teacher's Secret (41 page)

Rebecca takes a deep breath. ‘Okay,' she says, ‘I'll work on something else.'

Her first lesson is with the cast of
The Wolf
. For Rebecca, who has only ever had to deal with one child, this is a frightening prospect.

She's remembered their names, so that's a start, but she's going to need more than that to keep things under control. She'll need to assert her authority. And so, from the depths of her diaphragm, she brings out a strong, deep voice: so loud and so low, it shocks even her. For the cast of
The Wolf
, it is astonishingly effective: immediately they fall silent.

‘Thank you,' she says. Now she needs to get them into some order. ‘Two rows,' she tells them. ‘Elsie, Kurt and Cody, you'll be in the front row—Sebastian, you too. Jade, Bridie and Ethan, you can line up behind them.'

And that's exactly what they do: without any fuss, they arrange themselves into two lines.

‘As you know,' she says, ‘Sebastian and I, we've got a bit of experience in rapping. In our house, that's how we like to relax, by rapping as we go about our business.'

There is a lot of nodding as she says this. Only Sebastian looks doubtful.

After a moment, Kurt raises his hand. With some apprehension, Rebecca nods at him.

‘I was just wondering,' he says, ‘when you're rapping, are you always freestyling?'

She has absolutely no idea what he's talking about.

To buy some time, she clears her throat. ‘Good question,' she tells him, ‘and as a matter of fact, we do spend a lot of time freestyling. So you're right about that.'

Fearing more questions, she moves on quickly. ‘Today, I'll be teaching you a couple of basic hip-hop moves to use when you're rapping. When you're a bit more experienced—like we are in our family—you'll be able to work on some more complicated routines. But for today, we'll be keeping it simple.'

She's brought along a CD of rap hits and a step-by-step plan of the routine she's managed to cobble together. She sweeps her eyes over the plan as she gets herself into position: knees bent, shoulders forward, hands by her side.

Then she turns on the music. ‘Okay,' she says, ‘let's begin with a warm-up.'

In position already, Kurt starts to bob his head up and down to the music. When Rebecca nods to let him know she's impressed, he surprises her with a wink. He does it with such confidence and such panache, she finds it hard not to laugh. But she can't laugh: whatever she does, she can't laugh. Instead, she turns away and, putting a hand up to her mouth, pretends to cough. Then she turns back to the class and starts to shake her hands. ‘All right,' she says, ‘I want you to shake your hands. Shake them out, shake them right out.'

So they all start shaking. All except Sebastian, who stands there rigid: knees locked, arms motionless.

‘Do it,' she mouths at him.

But he doesn't do it; he just stands there looking mortified.

‘Do it,' she mouths again. If he doesn't, she'll end up looking like a complete fool.

Slowly, he shakes his head then makes a flicking motion with his hand.

‘Don't watch,' he mouths back.

A wave of resentment rockets through her. Don't watch?
Don't watch?
How about the room full of children watching her? If she could, she'd grab him by the arm and give him a shake.
You're the reason I'm doing this
, she'd hiss at him.
You're the reason I'm up here looking like an idiot. You're why I'm pretending to be some rap queen, when I've got no idea what I'm doing.

But all she can do is glare at him before, with an exaggerated sweep, she tosses her head away from him.

She switches her focus to Elsie, who is not only shaking out her hands, she's shaking out her whole body: legs, feet, fingers, head.

Cody isn't; he's just rocking to the music. She likes the way he moves: likes the way he just does it, as though he's not even thinking about it, as though he's just letting his body take the lead. Just shaking and rocking and shaking and rocking. It's almost mesmerising and for a moment she stops to watch him.

But she's not supposed to be watching, she's supposed to be teaching. And the dance she's supposed to be teaching them today is the Walk it Out dance.

She turns the music off to explain it to them. ‘Okay,' she says, ‘this is one of your basic hip-hop steps. You can do it while you're rapping. It's really just twisting while you walk. Keep your knees bent and, as you step forward, twist to one side, then twist to the other side. So you're walking out and twisting at the same time.' She shows them then turns the music back on again. ‘Now you try it.'

They're nothing if not enthusiasts. In the second row, Jade is tossing her hair around with such vigour it whips across Ethan's face. Turning to face each other, Kurt and Cody walk it out towards one another until they collide. And although Elsie is still shaking instead of stepping, her face is lit up with pleasure. Beside her, Bridie frowns in concentration as she keeps her eyes fixed on Rebecca.

‘A bit more twisting,' Rebecca tells her. ‘A bit more twisting while you're stepping out.'

With grim focus, the girl does just that. Her face set, she twists as she steps, her fists tightly clenched, her teeth biting down on her lip.

‘Good girl,' Rebecca tells her gently.

When she can, she ventures a look in Sebastian's direction. To her surprise, he's dancing now, too. There's nothing ostentatious about the way he moves—his steps are small and he keeps his head down—but his rhythm is good and his style is fluid. A surge of pride floods through her.

When she turns back to address the class, she has to shout to be heard over the music. ‘Well, you've got the legs,' she tells them. ‘How about the arms?'

And as she talks them through the steps, she keeps on walking it out: to the front, to the side, to the back. She's really starting to enjoy herself now. ‘I like to start with my arms lifted high,' she tells them. ‘Arms high, elbows bent, then you just groove them out and groove them back in again. When you've got that sorted, you can improvise a little: cross one arm over the other, roll your arm over your head, whatever you like.'

There's a change of song then, to one that Rebecca has started to enjoy. It's the refrain she likes best:

Here I am; it's me in the middle now

Me in the middle now;

Me in the middle

She doesn't know what it's supposed to mean but it doesn't matter; there's something about the music that makes her want to sing along. Soon, the children are joining in too. For the most part they just hum along, out of tune and out of time, but Rebecca loves it. When she steals a look over at Sebastian, she sees that he is singing, too. And when he catches her looking at him, this time he smiles.

She smiles then too: a big, broad, beaming smile. And as she smiles, a strong sensation of wellbeing engulfs her, filling her up from the soles of her feet to the top of the head. It is a feeling that makes her light-headed with joy.

It hits her then: this is the first time in many weeks she has felt happy.

More than that, even. This is the first time in many weeks that she has felt something other than trepidation; the first time she has not been consumed with that one question, that one ever-circling, ever-present question. Will they be allowed to stay?

Joan

Joan feels a surge of delight when she hears Nina's car pull up. She hasn't checked the letterbox all day. Deliberately. Because this will give her an excuse to be outside when Nina arrives home.

Now she hurries to the front door. Once she's outside, she forces herself to slow down, to take her time getting to the letterbox. By the time she's there, Nina is taking Emily out of the car. Only then does Joan check for the mail.

It works like a treat.

‘Jean!' Nina calls out to her. ‘Jean!'

She forces herself not to look up straightaway. When she does, she tries to look surprised. ‘Nina,' she says, ‘and Emily, hello.'

Nina smiles but Emily, who is being carried, buries her face in her mother's shoulder. ‘Sorry,' Nina says. ‘Long day at childcare. I think she's tired.'

At that, the little girl's head pops up. An enormous frown shadows her eyes. ‘I'm not tired,' she says. ‘I'm just a bit shy.'

This makes Nina laugh, so Joan laughs, too.

‘When I'm at big school,' Emily tells her, ‘I'm going to be Goldilocks and the Three Bears.'

Nina looks over her daughter's head. ‘My class is putting on a couple of plays at the end of the year. I was telling Emily about it and now she wants to be Goldilocks.'

‘And I'll get a Goldilocks dress, too,' the little girl pipes up.

When she hears this, an idea pops into Joan's head. She surprises herself by giving voice to it. ‘I could make you one,' she says.

Emily's eyes light up. ‘For me?'

Joan ducks her head at the question, embarrassed she hasn't checked with Nina first.

But Nina is looking pleased. ‘That's a lovely offer, Jean—as long as it's no trouble.'

Joan shakes her head. ‘It's no trouble at all,' she says. ‘I used to be a dressmaker.'

No trouble is less than the truth and Joan spends hours getting the costume right. In her house, there are no books for children, so on Saturday morning, she walks down to the library and looks through the picture-book section until she finds what she needs. In the book she chooses, Goldilocks wears a simple yellow-waisted frock, and this is what she uses as her model.

All day she works on it and it is evening before she is finished. Holding the gingham dress out in front of her—pressed now and on a coathanger—she is caught by a wave of delight.

Without stopping to think, she hurries next door. Only after she has knocked does it occur to her that this may not be a good time to visit: perhaps it is already dinner time or bath time or bedtime.

As soon as Nina opens the door, these thoughts disappear as a burst of uncontained excitement rushes through her. ‘I've finished!' she exclaims.

Nina smiles. ‘Come in,' she says. ‘Please, come in.'

Joan's pulse quickens. ‘Yes,' she says. ‘Thank you.'

Inside, she scarcely recognises the place. Shyly, gingerly even, she walks down the hallway of the house she used to know well. Stripped of its wallpaper and painted white, it is foreign to her now: the same shape, the same proportions, but strangely unrecognisable, like an old friend with a new face.

Nina leads her into the lounge room. When Mr Edwards was living here, it had a brown striped sofa in it; that and a television fitted inside a wooden sideboard. Now the room has a red sofa and two orange armchairs. Little Emily is lying on the sofa, curled up, watching television.

‘Look what Jean made for you,' Nina calls to her.

Emily's eyes widen when she sees the dress. ‘Is that for me?' she asks.

Joan flushes with pride. ‘Yes,' she says, ‘it is.'

Although it is almost time for bed, the little one wants to try it on immediately.

‘Why not?' says Nina.

So carefully, very carefully, Joan slips the dress over Emily's head, fastens the zipper and ties the bow at the back.

The little girl is radiant. ‘This is my best dress ever!' she says.

Joan's heart swells to hear it. ‘I'm so glad,' she says. ‘I'm so glad you like it.'

‘Are you going to make all the dresses?' the little girl asks her. ‘Are you going to do all of them, for everybody in Mummy's class?'

The question confuses Joan and she looks to Nina for help. But Nina just shakes her head as though she doesn't understand the question, either.

Only when the little girl keeps asking does she step in.

‘Don't be silly,' Nina says, looking embarrassed. ‘Jean made a lovely dress just for you. Imagine how long it would take to make a costume for everybody!'