Night School: Legacy

But despite all of that weirdness, only two months later, this felt like her real home.

She opened the wardrobe and lugged out the small suitcase her parents had sent. She’d been quite specific about what they were to include. Several books, all her notebooks, a few changes of clothes and …

She smiled.

There they are. Right on top.

Her red, knee-high Doc Martins.

She caressed the scuffed, dark red leather with one hand; with the other she held the note her mother had put in the case.

‘Cimmeria provides your shoes, so I don’t know why you need these …’ it began.

‘I know you don’t, Mum,’ Allie muttered with mild irritation. She scanned the rest of the note – it said nothing about what had happened in London that night. Nothing about Isabelle or Nathaniel. Nothing that mattered.

So they were back to pretending again, then.

Sometimes Allie felt as if she’d been accidentally scooped up from her rubbish, ordinary world and dropped into the middle of somebody else’s life. A life in which everyone was at war. Now she was in the line of fire but had no idea who was doing the shooting. Although she was beginning to learn who to trust.

She hurried to empty the rest of the suitcase but it all seemed to take too long, and the case was still open on the floor when she ran out of the room. Rapping her knuckles with impatient force on Rachel’s door, she walked in without waiting for an answer to find Rachel sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of books, with an open text in her lap.

During the few days Allie had spent with Rachel’s family, she’d felt as if she had the sister she’d always secretly wanted. As they’d splashed in the pool and wandered the family’s well-guarded horse pastures, they’d talked about everything: Carter, Nathaniel, Allie’s mother, Rachel’s father. Allie felt that she could tell Rachel everything and not be judged. And she could tell her anything and know that she could trust her.

‘Let’s unpack later.’ Allie hopped from one foot to another. ‘Don’t you want to see the library?’

‘You mean, don’t I want to go with you to find Carter?’ As she closed her book and climbed to her feet, Rachel’s smile was indulgent. ‘Of course I do.’

On the ground floor, things were bustling. A clatter of hammering emanated from the classroom wing, and through the open door they could see workers tearing out damaged plaster. Blackened panelling leaned against a wall awaiting removal; a scorched desk was discarded nearby. Workers hustled in and out in a busy stream. Scaffolding scaled the walls in silvery mesh.

Elsewhere, though, things looked better. The dining room was undamaged, and the common room looked just as it had before the fire.

Stepping into the great hall, they saw that it was in good shape but so filled with furniture they could only just squeeze inside. Clearly furniture was being stored here from rooms being repaired.

Rachel made her way gingerly past the legs of a chair which rested on its side under a desk. ‘I wonder where …’

At that moment, the door flew open and Sylvain rushed in carrying an Oriental rug rolled into a long, heavy tube. He was so focused on getting his awkwardly shaped cargo through the doorway that for a second he didn’t see them. Then he glanced up and his vivid blue eyes met Allie’s. Startled, he lost his footing and the rug swung wildly. Allie and Rachel ducked out of the way as he struggled to regain control, finally dropping the rug on to the floor with a dusty thud.

In the silence that followed, Allie noticed how his dark wavy hair had tumbled over his forehead. His tawny skin glistened from exertion. Then she wondered why she’d noticed that.

She nearly jumped when Rachel spoke. ‘Hi, Sylvain. We didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘Hello, Rachel. Welcome back.’

Hearing his familiar voice with its elegant French accent, Allie felt an indefinable surge of emotion. As if she’d moved, he turned back to her.

‘Hello, Allie,’ he said quietly.

‘Hey, Sylvain.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘I … I mean … How are you?’

‘I’m well.’

His oddly formal vocal cadence made him sound more sophisticated than his seventeen years, and when Allie had first met him just a word could make her melt.

But that was then.

‘How are you?’ he asked. As their awkward conversation continued, Rachel backed towards the door.

‘I’m just going to …’ she explained vaguely before dashing out.

When she was gone, Allie took a step closer to Sylvain, trying to read his guarded expression. ‘I’m … OK.’ Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. ‘I … just … I never got a chance. To thank you, I mean. After the fire.’ She reached towards his arm. ‘You saved my life, Sylvain.’