The Teacher's Secret by Suzanne Leal Read Free Book Online

this button and they bring it to you.’
    Terry holds up a finger to give him the fifteen-second warning. This makes Kurt stop still for a second before he gets the rest of his story out in a rush. ‘And they’ve got this Xbox thing on the plane, and we played it the whole time. And you could even play it while you eat your meal because the screen’s stuck to the back of the chair in front of you.’ He looks over to Terry to check how he’s done, giving himself the victory sign as Terry mouths fifty-eight then fifty-nine before he draws an imaginary line across his neck.
    ‘So why did you and Jordan catch the plane home without your dad?’ Terry asks the question lightly.
    ‘’Cause me dad, he’s moved there now. ’Cause his fiancée, that’s where she lives. So we get to go there on the holidays.’ Kurt scratcheshis head again. ‘Not the next holidays—’cause it’s really expensive to go there—but probably after that.’
    When Terry nods, Kurt gives him a smile that’s half proud and half like he wants to say something else before he squashes himself back down between Cody and Ethan, and Cody gives a yell because Kurt’s sitting on his ankle and Cody reckons it’s twisted.
    Terry surveys his brood with a satisfied smile. It’s good to be back, he thinks. It’s really good to be back.

Sid
    Sid doesn’t need an alarm clock. Like a bird, he wakes as soon as it’s daylight. He doesn’t get up straightaway, though; he just lies in bed for a bit and lets the day catch up with him.
    It’s promising to be a hot one, already he can feel it in the air. He doesn’t mind the heat. He’s not a fan of humid, sticky days, but a bit of heat, that’s another thing. Now he throws the sheet off, pulls himself up and swivels around until his feet are on the ground.
    Under his toes, the carpet is thin. And no wonder; it’s done its time. He was a kid when they laid it and now he’s sixty-seven.
    Although he takes his pyjamas off, he leaves his singlet on. From the wardrobe, he chooses a short-sleeved shirt. He’s never been a man for a T-shirt. In a T-shirt he feels half dressed. He needs a collar to feel right.
    His swimmers are hanging up in the bathroom. He pulls them on, then backtracks into the bedroom for yesterday’s walk shorts. All he needs is a towel, his sandals, a pair of underpants to put in his pocket, and he’s set.
    He never locks the door. He doesn’t see the point in it. There’s nothing much worth stealing inside and, from what he sees on the telly, locks don’t seem to deter anyone much anyway. If they want to get in, they’ll get in all right.
    Ahead of him, the laneway is quiet. Four doors down, there’s a passionfruit vine that, as best as Sid can tell, is the only thing keeping the back fence up. A hammer and a couple of nails would do the trick, but the owners are new and he’s not sure they’d appreciate him just getting in and fixing it up. Still, his hands itch to do it each time he passes by.
    He turns left at the end of the street and walks down until he hits the bay. It doesn’t matter how often he sees it, every time it makes him go quiet, just looking at it. It’s so beautiful.
    The pool—Brindle Rock Pool, according to the new council sign—is just past the boat ramp. Every morning, Sid is down at the pool by 7.45 am. A lot of the regulars are earlier than that. Six am, even, some of them. Not him. He can’t see the point of it. Especially as he doesn’t need to be at the school until just before nine.
    On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Ray motors down to meet him at the pool. Ever since he got the ride-on buggy, he’s had a new lease of life. It’s an electric thing, the buggy, something of a cross between a motorbike and a golf cart. Ray plugs it in at night, and by the morning he’s ready to go. And it’s a sight, all right, to see Ray heading past the golf club then careering down the footpath until he reaches the pool itself.
    They’ve always got on well, he