‘Yeah,’ Five said, dismissal in his tone. ‘So what?’
‘It ain’t right,’ Nine said. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
‘What ain’t right?’ Five’s tone was not encouraging. Like he only half-wanted to know. Or like he wanted Nine to shut up.
Even though he must have got that, Nine kept going.
‘What he’s doing… She’s just a kid. My own kid’ll be that age in a few years. It’s one thing when he’s fighting with his sister. But that kid, or the one upstairs… It ain’t right.’
There was a pause. Then: ‘You should mind your own business, Nine,’ Five warned him. ‘Keep your nose out of this.’
For a second Nine didn’t reply. When he spoke again, all he said was, ‘I don’t like what I don’t like.’
Elation flared in Allie’s chest.
For the ten thousandth time, she thought of that one little gesture. The hand pressing back at the air. The warning in his eyes.
She was certain now it had been him. That was Nine. He’d saved her.
Now she just had to figure out how to reach him.
17
For the rest of the day Allie stayed glued to the headphones, hoping Nine would say something more. But he was quiet after that. When he did speak, he seemed subdued. She was still at the table, male voices filling her head, when Eloise tapped her on the arm. Allie pulled off her headphones and glanced up at her.
‘Isabelle wants you downstairs.’ The librarian held out her hand for the earpieces. ‘I’ll take over. You need a break anyway.’
It didn’t feel like Allie had been sitting all that long but when she stood, her muscles protested. She glanced at her watch, surprised to discover it was already four o’clock in the afternoon. She’d been here for hours.
As she left the room, Allie glanced up at Carter. He sat in a wooden chair, looking down at his hands. It was hard to tell if he was awake or asleep.
The clock in the corner of the screen glowed red: 64:12:31.
The numbers were falling so fast.
The school was quiet – all the activity was in Dom’s office or outside in the school grounds. Allie was mostly alone in the wide hallway. When she reached Isabelle’s office, the door was closed.
She could hear the low rumble of quiet voices inside.
She knocked lightly.
‘Come in,’ Isabelle said.
Isabelle was at her desk. Two men in expensive looking grey suits sat in the leather chairs facing her; both had turned so they could see Allie standing uncertainly in the doorway.
‘Oh good, Allie,’ Isabelle said brightly. ‘We’ve been waiting for you. Please shut the door.’
A chair had been set next to Isabelle, and the headmistress gestured at it. ‘Have a seat.’
The men didn’t hide their curiosity. They were both middle aged, one was a little younger than the other, with sandy brown hair and designer glasses. The other had greying hair and kind blue eyes. He smiled when their eyes met.
It was a fatherly smile but Allie looked away quickly.
‘Allie, these gentlemen worked for your grandmother,’ Isabelle explained. ‘They’ve come here to talk to you about her will.’
Allie stared. ‘Her… will?’
Until that moment she’d entirely forgotten the conversation with her parents at Lucinda’s wake. Her father’s words came back to her now: Lucinda’s lawyers have been in touch.
‘Yes.’ Isabelle was using her most pleasant voice, and it made Allie anxious. ‘Lucinda included you in her will. And these men are here to explain this to you.’
Now Allie noticed the briefcases at their feet – the stack of documents the older one held.
‘My name is Thomas Granville-Smith,’ he said. ‘This is Will Ainsworth. We work for a firm of attorneys employed by Lucinda Meldrum.’ He glanced at Isabelle. ‘Is it fine if I just explain the situation?’
Isabelle inclined her head.
He turned his attention back to Allie. ‘Your grandmother left strict instructions for what should happen in the unfortunate event of her death.’ He paused. ‘And, if it would not be untoward of me, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you how sorry we are for your loss.’ His eyes darkened with what looked to Allie like genuine emotion. ‘I worked closely with Lucinda for many years. I cannot conceive of this world without her in it.’
Allie, who’d found it hard to accept sympathy from even her closest friends was, for some reason, touched by this.
‘Thank you,’ she said, meaning it.
Clearing his throat, the man glanced down at his papers for a moment before continuing.