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Dear Mrs Dunkley_ 1N1952, when Lwassine and my name was Helen Ford, Leame from 1, sohere the ceachers were y country toa private gies school in Geelong. I was pl rade five clas. ‘You were very this, with short black trembled, You wore heelsa black caF-lengh nipped-in waist. ‘We hae Arthur Mee’ Childrens Eneyelopedia at home, and f ‘hough [as prety good at General Knowledge. “In what yeur was the Great Plague of London?” Up ew my hand. 1665" ‘You sare at me.“t deg your pardon?” You mimicked my at re school accent, You corrected it. You hurniiaed me. 1 beceme such blusher that other kids would ley Fordie! ‘What colour’ red?" T wos weak at arthmeti. On such weaknes you had no mercy. ‘Stand up, you gsest MOON CALE’ You made us queue at your into your jr and hands that anda back jacket nd said, ‘Mrs Dunikley, how can an sudverb modify aa adjective? ‘You pas, up therein Frome oF the boned with the your hand. My checks were ‘your face a mysterious thing, Ie wasa tay, crooked smile. YouTooked atme fora long moment-—a slow, careful, serious look. You looked i ist ching after the numerals ofthe clock Face then tale the sythi, We had to ade acme, ands or the Bir knew shat you had seen me wer ready when you stopped. The name "Here's an exa ofthis daily practice wee THE Di wind we terribly cold? “Then your face snapped shut hot you your sivage contempt sons continued t0 be ¢ hi T got, and you sw me ger T never lat sy terrar of y But if acithine yet From nigh ‘lossoming knowledge “Many years later, dear Mrs Dunkly, when Thad turned youinto an entertining ogc from my cildhond whose antis made people Taugh and shudder, when I had published four books and fl a iter had deear about you. In this nol where dream I walked along the sandstone veranda of the you had taught me, and looked in stflionn stead ofthe longtables at hod use ost nal and exams, [saw a bizarre and 1 saw you, Mrs Dunkley, moving stafroom—but instead of your grim back 190s woo! suit, you were dressed in a jacket made of some wondrausly tender and lxible and how to writes proper letter: the address, the dae, the courteous sslutacon, the corec layout of the page the Formal signing off. Bue most crucially, you taught us grammar andl syntax, On the black- boar yu and introduced ust Parts of Speech, Parsing, Analysis. You showed us how to take a sentence paride tscomponens aa fi chem ck together with fresh serous the ike suede or buckskin, in soft, unstable colours that se thats you walked you drow alongrbehind you s thick, smudged sainbow tal 1m 1996 described ehis dream nthe intron ‘along. [knew 1 as supposed to beseratching away with my dip pen opying thelist into my exezcse hook, but I was so excited by this cof my esays A few months after the book came out, I eeceved a letter froma stranger She hed enjoyed my book, she said, particulaely the introduction. She enclosed phoeo that she thought might like "The photo shows & nan and at fates suburban backyard. Iesan amateurish black and= ‘white snap of a mother andl daughter: it eus of both subjects atthe ankles, The ils deesed in» gingham school uniform, Her haireut places the picture ia abou 1960, She isslghty taller than che woman, and is looking at che camera withthe corners of her mouth drawn buck into her eheeks; but her eyes are not smiling: they are wary snd guarded “The woman in the photo i in her Inte Fortes She has short avy hair combed back off her forehead. Her brows are dark her lips Gsrly closed in an expression of s rackether mouth. She's weatinga lgan undone toshowrs nest white ging by her sides, dark, steaight black skirtand a block toned tothe neck, Her hands are red the photo to my husband. "What enormous hands!" knew your hands, Mes Duakley. Not tha they ever touched ime, bu I recall chem as chin and sinewy and frce looking, purplish kin that seemed file, They quivere thought was rage, as you skimmed your so ry wonky long sions and mu ou Thad tamed you and made yo a part of me, But when Tooked at that phot, 1 felt as 1nd something imperfectly Familie had the dark. The real Mrs Dunkley shifted out from under the grid of walked into a strange room ned to me in ‘my creation, and I saw you at ls, my teacher: an intense, damaged,

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