Muttering to herself, she pulled the edges of her wet woollen hat down, wishing she could pull it over her whole face.
She stopped for a second to watch Carter work. Having grown up on the school grounds – he was essentially raised by Mr Ellison – he was much more practised than her and yet he never got very far ahead of her. She had the feeling he was pacing himself to stay near her. And yet he hadn’t said a single direct word to her all morning.
It was driving her crazy.
Last night with Sylvain had really made her think things through. Things were different with Sylvain from the way they’d been with Carter.
Sylvain seemed to have absolute belief in her ability to do things well. He made her feel confident. After the guards had left they’d sneaked back to their respective dorm wings in a hurry. There hadn’t been a chance to talk. But that moment in the corridor – when their hands had touched… Thinking about it made her heart flutter in her chest. How could something as simple as the touch of a hand affect her like that? But then he always could. Sometimes, before Jo died, all Sylvain had to do was look at her and she fell to pieces.
Romantic love.
Carter’s spade sliced through the mud with a clean thud, reminding her she should be working.
With a sigh, she whacked the mud ineffectually with her shovel. Raindrops clung to her eyelashes and she studied him through the watery prism. His cheeks were red from the cold and he was soaking wet. He never looked up at her.
She hit the mud again. Harder this time.
With Carter things were always so complicated. His emotions were like a labyrinth of trust and mistrust, faith and doubt. One misjudged step and you were lost for ever.
Today, for example. Here they were, alone in the garden. They had a lot to talk about. She knew Sylvain would have told him about the key last night. They’d agreed he would let Carter know and Allie would inform the girls – she’d gone door to door in the dormitory wing to tell all three of them what they’d found.
Yet this morning Carter hadn’t said a word about it. In fact, he hadn’t said a word about anything.
They couldn’t go on like this. Something had to be done.
‘Are you going to ignore me all day?’ she said finally. ‘Or just when we’re alone in the pissing-down rain and stupid-arse mud.’
He didn’t look up from his work. ‘Language.’
‘Yeah, language.’ She made an angry, half-hearted attempt to chop at the soil. ‘It’s that thing you use when you talk to each other.’
‘Fine.’ Straightening, Carter leaned against his shovel, studying her guardedly. ‘Hi, Allie. How are you this morning?’
‘Brilliant, Carter. I’m just brilliant.’
Rain ran down her face, seeping beneath her scarf to her shoulders. It was too much.
‘I’m going to take a break and try not to die of pneumonia,’ she said, looking at him. When he didn’t respond, she tried again. ‘Want to come with me? I’m just going in there.’ She pointed her shovel at a small lean-to shed at the garden wall.
For a moment Carter didn’t look up and she thought he might refuse. But then he straightened and hoisted his spade. ‘I suppose I don’t want to get pneumonia either.’
The shed had no heat but it did have doors to shut out the rain and a bench in one corner to keep them off the cold floor. After hanging her dripping hat and wet scarf from a rusty nail jutting out of the wall by the door, Allie shook out her damp hair sending a spray of cold water around her. Her hair was getting longer; it hung below her shoulder blades in long, dark strands.
‘I kind of miss your red hair.’
Spinning around, she found Carter sitting on the bench watching her. When they’d first met she’d had dyed red hair. She’d let it go back to its natural colour months ago.
‘You do?’ She held up a strand, studying its darkness dispassionately. ‘I always feel weird when I dye it now. Like, I look in the mirror and it’s not me.’ She dropped on to the opposite end of the bench with a sigh. ‘Then again, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.’
‘Why?’ he said. ‘Don’t you like you?’
‘Sometimes,’ she shrugged. ‘Not so much right now.’
‘Why not?’ he said.
She gave him a look that said she was quite certain he knew the answer to that question already.
‘Oh,’ he said, dropping his gaze. ‘That.’
‘Yes. That.’ She crossed her arms tightly. ‘Can we talk about that?’
Carter made a noncommittal gesture.
‘Look, I just…’ Allie searched for the right words. ‘I feel really weird about what happened. And ever since then we’ve both been avoiding each other, and being all cold around each other. It’s like we were getting better at being friends and now we’ve taken this giant step backwards. And I…’ She sighed, her shoulders slumping. ‘I hate that.’