Cringing at the silence, Allie forced herself to look around the table; here were all the people she’d been avoiding or ignoring for weeks – all the people she loved.
Isabelle had raked her over the coals for how she’d treated them. Looking at them now, her words rang in Allie’s ears.
‘I know you’ve been through a lot over the last few months, but your reaction to Jo’s death was to strike out at the people who love you most,’ she’d said. ‘You hurt those people very badly. You never seemed to realise this fact: they were grieving, too. You’ve been cold to Rachel for weeks, so she’s gone through this painful time alone. And you’ve virtually ignored Zoe. She thinks of you as a big sister. She needed you but you were too self-absorbed to be there for her.’
Across the table from her, Carter sat next to Jules. Each time she saw them together, a tiny shard of ice seemed to lodge deeper in her chest, but Carter had always been her friend and she didn’t want to lose him.
If that meant being nice to Jules then… fine.
Next to them, Zoe looked very small as she scanned the faces around her with quick, puzzled eyes. Rachel kept her gaze lowered, as if she couldn’t bear to see what had become of Allie. Next to her, Lucas gripped her hand tightly.
She got the feeling they were all waiting for something to happen. Maybe they expected her to act crazy. Run away. Shout at them.
She cleared her throat. ‘Look, everyone. I want to say something. I know I’ve been messed up and I want to tell you all I’m sorry. I think I needed time to go… I don’t know… a little crazy for a while. And I know you all know I ran away yesterday but I want you to know that I wasn’t running away from you…’ She paused. Was that the truth? She didn’t know any more. ‘But now I’m trying to get myself together. I wasn’t really trying…’ Flitting around the table, her gaze rested for a moment on Carter’s face. His dark eyes avoided hers. ‘I know I’ve been selfish and scary and I just hope’ – she looked at Rachel helplessly – ‘that you can forgive me. And help me… get better.’
A brief stunned pause was followed by a rush as everybody spoke at once.
‘Of course we can…’
‘Don’t even think…’
‘Anybody would have…’
They were all kind but when the conversation veered away from the uncomfortable reality of Allie’s breakdown and wandered to the safer territory of her escape, she was relieved.
‘How did you do it?’ Lucas asked, with real interest in his eyes. ‘They say you climbed over the fence.’
‘No way,’ Allie scoffed. ‘That’s impossible. For me anyway. That thing is huge.’
‘Did someone help you?’ Jules asked, her voice cautious.
Thinking of Mark, Allie paused. ‘Not exactly…’
‘What are they doing to you?’ For Allie, Carter’s voice made all other sound stop and her eyes flashed up to meet his. ‘What kind of punishment?’
‘Loads of homework. Garden detention for the rest of my life.’ She faked an insouciant shrug. ‘The usual.’
The look on his face told her he knew there was more to it than that. But she couldn’t tell them everything. She couldn’t say what Lucinda had promised her. Not now anyway.
At that moment, the kitchen doors opened and staff poured out in rows of two into the room, steam rising from the platters they carried. As Allie watched the waiters enter in their crisp black uniforms, her gaze fell upon Sylvain, watching her intently, knowingly. His eyes as bright and cold as chips of glacier ice.
SEVEN
T
he next day Allie went to all her classes for the first time in weeks.
Her teachers must have been warned to expect her because none of them commented on her sudden reappearance, although Zelazny shot her a bilious look as she slid into her seat in ancient history.
The students, though, were not so polite. She could handle the staring, although it made her skin crawl. But the whispered insults just loud enough for her to hear were harder to take. Most of the time she managed to ignore them. Until, in maths class, she heard someone stage-whisper, ‘Do you think she killed Jo…?’
For a moment, Allie couldn’t breathe. Then a flash of white-hot pain made her forget all her promises.
Holding her pen like a dagger she spun in her seat and levelled it at two girls who sat behind her. Amber and Ismay: acolytes of Katie Gilmore. The ‘twins of evil’, she’d always called them back when she had a sense of humour. She didn’t think anything was funny any more.
‘If I were you’ – her voice was low and surprisingly steady – ‘I’d shut up.’
For a second they just giggled uncertainly. She could see that they weren’t sure whether to ridicule her or be afraid.
Then Amber flipped her long blonde hair over one shoulder with practised nonchalance. ‘She’s terrifying,’ she said. ‘She has criminal eyes. I can’t believe she’s loose among us.’