Slowly, she made her way down the aisle, her feet scuffing softly on the flagstone floor, eyes glued to the pine box ahead of her.
She glanced around nervously – the walls were elaborately painted in medieval style, with devils, dragons, trees and doves. In the candlelight, the paintings seemed to move.
The dove’s feathers fluttered. The dragon’s scales shimmered.
By the time she reached the front row, Allie’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t breathe. Every instinct told her to run away. But she lowered herself stiffly onto the hard wooden pew.
I can do this. I have to.
The room was so quiet, she could hear the melting wax sizzle.
Knotting her hands in her lap, she made herself think about Lucinda. The first time she’d seen her, standing on the landing in the school building, looking out at the snow. Regal as a queen; an emerald the size of an almond on her finger.
And later, her calm cool voice coming through the phone, giving orders, but also listening. Understanding.
Then, on a hilltop, looking down at the lights of London. One last time.
The coffin was so simple, no ornamentation at all. That was wrong. It should be covered in diamonds.
‘I wish…’
She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, and her own voice startled her to silence.
The candles flickered, sending light dancing on the vivid walls. The dragon’s painted eyes seemed to watch her.
‘I wish I’d known you,’ she told the box. Her voice was low and shaky. ‘Really known you. Sometimes I…’ She paused, then made herself continue. ‘Sometimes I pretend I grew up with you in my life. You took me to plays. To Parliament. We went to Washington, DC, together. I called you “grandmother” and it didn’t feel weird. It just felt… normal. I pretend that’s the way things were. Because… I would have liked that.’
She was shaken by a sudden overwhelming sense of loss. As if a hole had opened in front of her unexpectedly and she was falling down into it.
Hot tears stung her eyes.
Here was the emotion she’d been hiding from herself. The pain she’d dodged since that night on the heath.
She dropped her feet to the floor, leaning forward to look at the box earnestly, letting her tears fall unimpeded.
‘I know you thought I didnt always listen to you. But I did. I really listened. And I want to be like you, someday. To be brave. To try and make things better. Only now…’ She paused, seeking the right words. ‘Sometimes I don’t believe things can be better. Like, maybe better is impossible. And when you try to make one thing better you make something else worse. Something you never thought about before. Like you tried to help Nathaniel and it ended up killing you.’
She could hardly see the coffin now, through the blur of tears.
‘I don’t know what to think about that. Because I don’t want to stop trying to fix things.’ She looked up at where her grandmother lay. ‘You always tried.’ She swiped a hand across her wet cheeks.
‘I guess that’s what I wanted to tell you. Thank you for trying.’
Something crashed behind her, and she jumped to her feet, whirling as the door swung open, striking the wall.
Isabelle stood in the doorway, the hood of her black raincoat all but obscuring her face. She held a large bouquet of lilies in her arms. Water streamed from her hood.
Allie hadn’t noticed it start to rain. But now she could hear the drops pattering against the roof and stained glass windows. The wind shook the trees.
The headmistress closed the door, and turned back around, pushing the hood off to reveal her face, pale and stern.
‘What are you doing here?’
Feeling instantly like a trespasser, Allie wiped her tears away. ‘I’m sorry. I just…’
Isabelle’s expression softened. ‘Please. Don’t apologise. I was just surprised – I thought I was alone. You have every right to be here.’
She crossed to the front of the chapel and arranged the flowers carefully in a large vase in front of the coffin.
‘Did you light the candles?’ Allie asked, her voice tentative.
Isabelle glanced at the candelabra near her as if she’d only just noticed it. ‘We’re keeping them lit. Myself and the other teachers.’
She had her back to Allie again, straightening the purple and gold satin that covered the altar table. Moving it one way, then shifting it back again.
Allie didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something.
‘I’m here,’ Allie found herself explaining, ‘to say goodbye.’
Isabelle stopped fidgeting. When she glanced up, Allie saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She looked so heart-broken. And of course she would be – she’d known Lucinda all her life. Lucinda had treated Isabelle like her own daughter.
The same way Isabelle treated Allie.
The realisation took her by surprise. She’d been so focused on herself, she hadn’t thought about how devastated Isabelle must be right now. Between Carter and Lucinda – her whole life had just fallen apart.