‘This is important,’ she said, looking at the phone. ‘Valuable. Are you sure you want me to have it?’
Lucinda didn’t answer right away. But when she did, all she said was, ‘I think it’s time for you to have it.’
Allie closed the book carefully and wrapped it back in the protective paper. ‘Thank you for trusting me. I’ll take very good care of it.’ Her voice was fervent. She meant every word.
‘I know you will,’ Lucinda said.
Back in her bedroom later, Allie turned the pages of the book with careful fingers. The paper was thick but soft to the touch and the page ends were uneven, as if they hadn’t been cut by a machine.
She could see now how the handwriting changed periodically. The first half of the book was written in a spidery, swooping hand, and included names like Lord Charles Alton Finley-Gaston. His birthdate was 1681. Underneath, the book noted the years he’d served in Parliament. And the date of his death: 1738.
His wife was Mary and they’d had three children, two of them already dead by the time Charles passed away. One, Thomas John Finley-Gaston, survived. When she turned the page, his name headed the next entry.
Only now he was Lord Thomas John Finley-Gaston. Born 1705. Died 1769.
His children and grandchildren filled the pages after that.
This is my family, Allie told herself. She was trying to feel the things other people felt when they talked about their ancestors – a kind of possessiveness; a clear connection.
But the names meant nothing to her. She might as well have been reading the books in the library downstairs.
She felt nothing at all for these long-dead men.
Flipping forward in time, she passed increasingly familiar names. Names she’d read in history books. A prime minister here, a chancellor there. Then suddenly a long name stared out at her, written in a confident, no-nonsense handwriting that slanted sharply to the right: Baroness Lucinda Elisabeth Eugenie Gaston St Croix Meldrum.
Each word was clear and clean – no embellishments.
The page held a description of her life, her role as first woman chancellor, head of the World Bank, UN advisor. Beneath that, her husbands were listed, along with Allie’s mother. Like the book’s other pages, the information was all straightforward. But there was something about it that bothered Allie. She was at the bottom of the page before she realised what it was.
The page was written in the past tense.
Dread twisted inside her like a blade. Slowly, she turned to the next page. When she saw what her grandmother had written at the top of the next page, the blood drained from her face.
20
Twenty
The words swam in front of Allie’s eyes.
How could Lucinda do that? Allie felt betrayed. She couldn’t be in this book. She wasn’t one of the dead old men trapped in its dusty pages. She was young.
She was alive.
Suddenly she didn’t want to read any more.
Closing it with an emphatic thud, she wrapped it back in the anonymous brown paper and slipped it into the bottom drawer in the desk, beneath a pile of old assignments.
When it was hidden away she wiped her hands on her skirt, as if to remove any traces it might have left behind.
She didn’t want that book. She didn’t want any of this. She’d figure out a way to give it back to Lucinda. To tell her she’d made a mistake.
Allie’s whole life was ahead of her. Nathaniel might have tried to kill her but he’d failed.
She didn’t belong in the family book of the dead.
All the next day Allie waited for word from Lucinda about the date of the parley but none came. The day after that was the same: nothing.
Each day when her lessons ended she ran to Isabelle’s office to ask for news but the headmistress just shook her head. ‘They’re still negotiating terms, Allie. This part takes time. It could be weeks. Spend that time focusing on your studies, and on getting yourself ready.’
But it was increasingly difficult to pay attention in her lessons. To care about homework. It all seemed absurd compared to what was happening outside the school grounds.
And what lay ahead.
The air between Allie and Sylvain was still clouded and heavy with unspoken recrimination. She never saw him alone, and she got the feeling he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him. In groups he was studiously polite to her. But their conversations were stilted.
It was hard to believe that just over a week ago he’d told her he loved her.
Allie had taken to studying in the library. Nobody else used it these days – most students preferred to study in the common room, or out on the lawn on sunny days – so she often had it to herself.
Eloise was slowly thawing towards her – Allie wondered if the librarian somehow knew that she was the one who’d accused her of being the spy. But she was afraid to ask. She was just glad she didn’t look so afraid every time she saw her now.
One afternoon she was alone at one of the tables, working with only desultory interest on a science project in the glow of the green-glass desk lamp, when someone dropped into the chair across from her. She looked up, into Carter’s dark gaze.
‘Hey.’ His tone was casual, as if they always chatted like this.
‘Hey back,’ Allie said, and she saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
That was how they’d always greeted each other back when they were friends, before everything happened. It was a weighted phrase. A Carter and Allie code. It meant, ‘Everything is OK. I care about you.’
Allie swallowed hard, her chest felt suddenly tight. She didn’t know why she’d said it. Their relationship was such a mess, especially now. She waited for him to shut down, to withdraw. To walk away.
Instead he leaned forward, one hand sliding halfway across the table top towards her.
‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you,’ he said, ‘about the other night.’
Allie steeled herself for more criticism. Carter had kept his distance ever since that night and she was certain he was angry at her.
But he wasn’t.
‘I want to tell you I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have warned you what they were planning. I let Raj and the others talk me into it.’ He held her gaze with steady eyes. ‘I was wrong.’
Allie let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. There was no way for him to know how much this meant to her. She’d felt so lonely ever since that night. So conflicted.
‘Thank you,’ she said with real feeling. ‘That means a lot.’
‘You have every right to make your own decisions,’ Carter held her gaze. ‘Don’t let anyone try and talk you out of what you think is right. Not even me.’
Heat rose to Allie’s face. Every word he said was like a balm to her soul. But she had things to apologise for, too.
‘I still think I was wrong,’ she said. ‘The way I just made the decision about the parley without asking you and the others what you thought. I felt like it was my decision to make but you guys are in this, too. It’s going to be dangerous. I should have talked to all of you first. It should have been a group decision.’
All the tables around them were empty, and the rest of the library was in shadow. Allie knew Eloise was somewhere in the back, shelving books. But here, in the dome of light cast by the desk lamp, it felt safe and private.
‘I think I owe everyone an apology. Including you.’
Carter’s eyes darkened. ‘No one should blame you for that. Isabelle should never have put you on the spot like that. It wasn’t fair to you.’
Their eyes met and held. Carter’s dark gaze was limitless, conflicted. He looked as if he wanted to say something else. Then he straightened, withdrawing his hands from the table in a movement too casual not to have been deliberate.
The spell was broken. Hurriedly, Allie picked up her pen and toyed with it as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.
‘I’ve got to go find a Gertrude S
tein book for that English essay,’ he said, pushing back his chair. ‘Although I don’t really see the point. Her poems make about as much sense as a fish with a shotgun.’
She forced a smile. ‘That’s cool. Luckily, I have the wonderful world of physics to keep me company …’
Her tone was light but her voice was thin. As he walked away, she watched him from beneath lowered lashes. His long, loping stride was as familiar to her as her own breath.
She felt lonelier now than she had before he sat down.
Allie was so confused about what she wanted and why she wanted it, she didn’t know what to do. She longed to discuss all of this with Rachel but things between them were too fragile right now.
That was another thing she needed to fix. Somehow.
So she’d have talked about it with someone else but … who was there to talk to? Nicole was still angry at her.
And Zoe was … Zoe. She’d just look at her like she was mad.
There wasn’t anyone else to ask. In the world.
Not any more.
Oh God, Jo. I miss you so much.
Gathering her books she made her way to the common room, hoping to find more focus. But she was just as miserable there as she’d been in the library.
She was so deep in self-pity she didn’t hear Katie walk up to her.
‘God. All my teachers are such bastards,’ she announced, dropping on to the other end of the sofa without waiting for an invitation. ‘I wish they’d get real jobs.’ Barely glancing at Allie, she pulled out a text book and began flipping through the pages. ‘They will work us to death.’
Tapping the end of her pen against her chin, Allie eyed her speculatively.
She’s probably still inherently evil. But nobody in this school knows more about boys.
Glancing up, Katie caught her staring.
‘What?’ Her green eyes narrowed. ‘Do I have something on my face?’
Although tempted to say yes just to watch her squirm, Allie shook her head.
‘I just … I thought I could …’ She made herself say it. ‘Could I ask you a weird question?’
Katie brightened visibly. ‘Please tell me you want makeup tips. I’ve been dying for you to ask me.’
Allie paused. ‘What’s wrong with my makeup?’
‘Oh, Allie,’ Katie said, shaking her head mournfully. ‘Everything.’
On some level Allie wanted to discuss eyeliner for half an hour and forget all about Sylvain and Carter and life. But she couldn’t forget.
That was the problem.
‘It’s not about makeup,’ she said. ‘It’s a random thing just about, like … boys.’
Katie pursed her lips. Leaning forward in her chair, she lowered her voice. ‘I’ve noticed things are weird between you and Sylvain. What’s going on? Is it a sex thing?’
‘No, it’s not a sex thing,’ Allie glared. ‘It’s … well, it’s something else. And we’re not having problems.’ She added the last line hastily. ‘We’re fine.’
That wasn’t true but … whatever.
‘Well, what is it, then?’ Katie looked as if she couldn’t imagine a problem between couples that did not involve sex.
Allie was already regretting this conversation. But she had to talk to someone.
‘It’s not about me and Sylvain,’ she lied. ‘It’s for someone else. They asked me and I didn’t know what to say because … anyway. I didn’t know. And I thought you might.’
Katie studied her steadily.
‘What does your … friend’ – she emphasised the word – ‘want to know?’
‘OK, so …’ Allie couldn’t look at her. She kept her eyes on her hands, which were twisting the hem of her short skirt into a knot. ‘If a boy tells you he loves you and you can’t say it back, does that mean you don’t love him? Or are you just … I don’t know. Weird. Or something.’
Katie’s smile faded. ‘Oh. A real question. Right.’
As she paused to mull this over, Allie sat miserably, wishing she’d never brought it up.
When Katie finally spoke again, her tone was surprisingly thoughtful. ‘It could mean she doesn’t love him back. Sometimes it does. There’s nothing like someone telling you they love you for you to realise you don’t feel the same way.’
Allie’s heart sank. How could I not love Sylvain? Is that even possible? He’s beautiful and he kisses like fire. And he loves me. Katie was still talking, warming to the topic.
‘On the other hand, it could also mean you’re— Sorry. I mean, she’s not ready for that kind of commitment yet.’ She looked at Allie seriously. ‘It’s a really big deal. If you say you love someone then suddenly everything gets super intense. You could really like him but maybe he just said it too soon.’ She seemed pleased with her own assessment. ‘Tell your friend to take her time. Nobody should rush anyone into “I love you.” Frankly, I’m surprised Sylvain would put pressure on you like that.’
Allie, who was still processing all of this, replied automatically.
‘He’s not pressuring me—’ Realising what she’d said, she blanched. ‘I mean, she’s … I didn’t mean …’
Katie wore the serene countenance of the victor. ‘Of course he isn’t. He’s far too mature for that.’ Allie got the feeling she enjoyed her new role of romantic advisor. ‘Love is a big deal, Allie. You can’t say it if it’s not right. I don’t think I’ve ever said it. Not yet.’
Allie mumbled some sort of garbled thanks, and Katie beamed at her.
‘If you ever need more advice, come to me,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m like a sexpert.’
If Allie had thought talking about this would make her feel better, she’d been wrong.
She felt utterly confused.
How could she not love Sylvain? They were perfect together.
But then, if she did love him, why couldn’t she just say so?
And why did she feel so empty when Carter walked away?
After Night School that evening, the group stayed behind for more weapons training. Allie waited until it was just the six of them before standing up. She’d thought about this all afternoon. It was time to settle this. And get things back to normal.
‘Before we get started, there’s something I want to say. What happened in the chapel – the way I agreed to the parley without asking you first – that was wrong. And I’m sorry.’
She saw Rachel’s eyes widen. The cautious approval on Nicole’s face.
The puzzled boredom in Zoe’s expression.
‘I know it made you all angry and upset, and I don’t blame you. Please believe me.’ With her eyes she sought out Sylvain’s face. His expression was hard to read. ‘I won’t do anything like that again. I promise. We’re a team. We decide things together.’ Tugging at the hem of her black exercise top, she stepped back. ‘That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you can forgive me and I’d really like us to get back to normal. If we can.’
She saw Zoe roll her eyes as Rachel and Nicole both rushed over to give her a hug.
‘That was a lovely thing to say,’ Nicole said. ‘I’m sorry about what I said the other day. It wasn’t fair.’
‘And I’m sorry we listened to my dad,’ Rachel said. ‘I should have known better.’
‘It’s cool,’ Allie insisted. ‘I deserved it. And … to be fair, if your dad was trying scare me, it bloody worked. I’m terrified now.’
When the girls walked away chatting, Sylvain came over to her.
‘I know that must have been hard,’ he said when no one else could hear . ‘I’m really proud of you. And I’m sorry about everything. I handled it all badly. But I was afraid for you.’ He paused. ‘I wish there was a way to take it all back.’
His tone was fervent, but he kept his distance. As if he wasn’t sure she’d welcome his touch.
The caution in his eyes hurt her.
Allie wished she knew what to do. They’d been so close while they were in France. But, somehow, after they came back to Cimmeria that changed.
Breaking the space between them, she rested her hand on his arm. ‘No, I’m sorry. I was selfish. I didn’t think. And I really just want us to go back to the way we were before everything happened. I miss us, the way we were.’
Some of the tension left Sylvain’s shoulders. Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips.
‘I miss us, too,’ he said softly. ‘Let’s be us again.’
But even as Allie smiled up at him, some part of her knew that wanting something and having it are two very different things.
21
Twenty-one
Over the days that followed, Allie had little time to worry about Sylvain. Night School training became increasingly intense. Raj ratcheted up the pressure, assigning difficult martial arts. Extending training hours. Demanding more of them. All the students were training with weapons now, and tensions were high.
Each night he and the other trainers circled the room barking out criticism and demands. And always he wanted them to be faster. Hit harder.
Allie didn’t mind. She poured herself into the physical effort of training. Running until she was exhausted. Kick-boxing until her muscles felt like jelly. Practising the precise vicious movements of martial arts until every part of her ached.
It was the only time her mind was quiet. The only time she didn’t doubt herself. Didn’t worry about Sylvain and Carter.
And Rachel.
Rachel was falling further and further behind the Night School group. Everyone knew she wasn’t cut out for it but she stubbornly refused to give up.
Allie couldn’t bear to watch her have to fight so hard.
It was worse on the nights when Raj trained with them. As she and Carter had expected, he was tough on his daughter.
‘Your kick isn’t high enough, Rachel,’ he said one evening as she tried again to swing her leg up to Nicole’s neck. Rachel took the criticism with stoicism. But Nicole’s disapproving eyes were fixed on Raj as if she was willing him to stop.
C J Daugherty - [Night School 04] Page 15
