Night School

Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘It’s noon – want to take a break and get something to eat?’


Leaving their notebooks open on the table to reserve their place, they headed to the dining room. It was unusually quiet – many students were taking their sandwiches outside to the late summer sun. They chose a table in a quiet corner where they could talk without being overheard.

‘Any news from Carter?’ Rachel asked.

Allie shrugged. ‘A little. He says it’s all really intense, and they never get a break. What does Lucas say?’

‘The same.’

Rachel bit into her sandwich, frowning. Allie could tell there was something on her mind but she waited until she was ready to talk.

‘What are you going to do for your hols, Allie?’ she asked at last. ‘I know you and your parents have “issues”.’ She made air quotes around the last word. ‘But are you going to go home?’

The question took Allie by surprise. With all that had been going on she really hadn’t thought about what to do. She wasn’t ready to go home to the uncomfortable silences and suspicious faces. The ticking clock and unspoken regret. But what else could she do?

‘I’ll go home, I guess,’ she sighed. ‘You know, I haven’t talked to my parents since I got here. I was so angry at them for sending me here. Then I was angry at them for lying to me. I wanted them to notice I didn’t call and to call me. Just to make sure I was OK.’ She peeled the crust off her sandwich. ‘They didn’t call.’

Rachel leaned towards her. ‘Here’s the thing – if you can’t face it, you’re welcome to come stay at mine. I spoke with Mum about it yesterday – I’ve told her all about you. She said for me to tell you you’re welcome anytime, and you can stay as long as you like. We’ve got lots of room.’

That proves it, Allie thought. She is genuinely my friend. She wouldn’t invite me to her house otherwise, would she? That’s what real friends do.

But her paranoid subconscious had a counter argument: What a great way to spy on me.

Still, the idea was tempting. Spending a couple of weeks on a sprawling country estate with Rachel versus going home to her miserable parents to hash out family problems in their poky London house? It was really no contest.

But.

‘Rachel, thank you so much. Can I think about it?’ she said. ‘I know I need to deal with my parents sometime. But right now I don’t see the point.’

‘I know.’ Rachel’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘It’s got to be hard.’

‘Your family seems so wonderful,’ Allie said. ‘I think you won the family lottery.’

Rachel looked unconvinced. ‘You’ve never met my dad. He wants me to go into his business. He’s been harassing me to join Night School since I got here. It drives him crazy that I won’t do it. And he is so not thrilled about me studying medicine. He hates doctors. Calls it “quackery”. We row about it all the time.’ She finished her sandwich. ‘So, see? Nobody’s family’s perfect.’

Allie wasn’t buying it. ‘Yeah, but there’s imperfect and then there’s my family. We’re imperfect like a ticking nuclear bomb is imperfect.’

Rachel laughed. ‘You have a point. Clan Sheridan clearly does not have it together right now.’

‘Allie Sheridan?’ A younger student Allie didn’t remember ever seeing before stood at their table looking at Rachel.

‘Her.’ Rachel pointed at Allie.

‘Me,’ Allie said, looking at him curiously.

‘Isabelle asked could you come to her office, please?’

She couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘What? Why?’

He stared at her blankly.

‘Allie …’ Rachel was trying not to laugh. ‘What have you done now?’

Allie shrugged. ‘She probably just wants to tell me how amazing I am. Again.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Rachel said. ‘Well I’ll be in the library all afternoon – come find me when you’re free. If she doesn’t throw you in the dungeon or something.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Allie said, gathering her things. ‘I’ve got to say, at this point? If I found out there were a dungeon here, it really wouldn’t surprise me.’

Isabelle’s office was empty when Allie arrived, but the door stood open, so she sat in one of the chairs. As she waited she glanced around nervously as if even now she’d find that she and Carter had left something out of place that could give them away.

Isabelle strode in a few minutes later looking distracted, her glasses pushed up on top of her head.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked, turning on a kettle on top of a small refrigerator in a corner. ‘I could really do with one myself.’

‘Sure,’ Allie said politely, although she didn’t feel like tea.