Night School

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

‘Mr and Mrs Sheridan, it’s so nice to see you again.’ The woman’s voice was warm and lilting; she smiled easily. ‘I hope the drive wasn’t too tedious for you. The traffic can be awful between here and London. But at least the weather is lovely today, isn’t it?’

Allie noticed she had a faint accent, but she couldn’t identify it. Was it Scottish? It added delicacy and complexity to her words, as if they were filigreed.

After more pleasantries were exchanged and the conversation lulled, the three turned towards Allie. Her parents’ polite smiles disappeared, replaced with the cultivated blankness with which she’d grown uncomfortably familiar. But the headmistress smiled at her warmly.

‘And you must be Allie.’

Scottish, definitely. But such an unusual accent – very subtle.

‘Allie, I’m Isabelle le Fanult, the headmistress at Cimmeria Academy. You can call me Isabelle. Welcome.’

Allie was a bit surprised to hear her nickname, rather than ‘Alyson’, which is what her parents always called her. To be told to call a headmistress by her first name seemed weird too.

But quite cool.

Isabelle held out a slim, pale hand. She had oddly beautiful golden brown eyes, and up close she looked younger than she’d appeared from a distance.

Allie didn’t want anything to do with this place – anything to do with this woman – but she found herself reaching out. As her hand was grasped in a surprisingly strong, cool grip, shaken and then released gently, she relaxed a little.

Isabelle held her gaze a second longer, and Allie thought she saw sympathy in her expression, before she turned back to her parents with a smile and an apologetic shrug.

‘I’m afraid it is our policy that parents bid farewell to their children here. When the students cross the threshold they start their new lives at Cimmeria, and we like them to do that independently.’

Turning back to Allie, ‘Do you have many bags? Hopefully we can carry them between the two of us. Most of the staff are busy at the moment, so I fear we must fend for ourselves.’

For the first time, Allie spoke. ‘I don’t have too much.’

It was true. The school supplied most things and allowed so little that in the end she only had two medium-sized bags, mostly filled with books and notepads. Her father carried them from the boot. Isabelle lifted the larger of the two with surprising ease. She exchanged a few final pleasantries with Allie’s parents and then stepped back away from them.

‘Work hard and drop us a line now and then,’ her father said. He was still distant but he looked sad, and he gave her a quick hug.

Her mother smoothed a strand of hair out of Allie’s face, avoiding her eyes. ‘Please give this place a chance. And call us if you need us.’ For just a second she hugged Allie tightly, and then she let go and walked to the car without looking back.

Allie stood still, her hands at her sides, watching the car turn and head back down the smooth gravel drive. She felt tears prickling the backs of her eyes, and she shook her head fiercely to ward them off. Picking up the remaining black bag, she turned towards Isabelle, who was watching her.

‘It’s always difficult the first time,’ Isabelle said, her voice gentle. ‘It gets easier.’

She headed briskly towards the steps saying over her shoulder, ‘I’m afraid we have a little distance to go. You’ll find this building is simply endless.’

Her voice faded as she walked inside. After a moment’s hesitation, Allie followed.

‘I’ll give you the pocket tour as we go …’ Isabelle was saying, but Allie hardly heard as she gaped at the vast entrance hall.

Inside it was dim and chilly, the bright sunlight filtered into colourful shade by a stained glass window far above her head. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high, held aloft by thick stone arches. The stone floor had been polished smooth by thousands of feet over hundreds of years. Candle holders five feet tall stood like sentinels in each corner. Some walls were covered with old tapestries, though Allie didn’t get a good look at them as she hurried after the headmistress.

From the entrance hall they moved on into a wide hallway with dark wooden floors. Isabelle turned into the first room on the right. Inside were more than a dozen large, round, wood tables, each with eight chairs around it. Along one wall an enormous fireplace reached well above her head.

‘This is the dining room. You’ll have all of your meals here,’ she said, pausing a moment for Allie to take it in before striding off down the hallway.