Night School: Legacy

The car wasn’t moving. The driver’s side door was open – she was alone.

The night around her seemed unnaturally quiet after London. There were no sounds of traffic. No sirens. She could hear low voices nearby – a man and a woman talking quietly.

Sitting up, she ran her hands through her mussed hair.

‘You’re certain no one followed you?’ the woman asked.

‘Positive,’ Rachel’s dad replied.

‘Poor thing. She must be exhausted,’ the woman said. ‘I didn’t wake Rachel; we can tell her in the morning.’

Allie opened the car door and their conversation stopped.

Mr Patel was talking to a woman with light brown hair and fair skin. She wore jeans and a long blue cardigan, which she’d belted tight across her torso.

‘Um … hi,’ Allie said, uncertainly.

‘Allie,’ Mr Patel said, ‘this is Rachel’s mum, Linda.’

It was so dark around them, Allie could see very little. She could just make out the shape of a building behind them – one light on in a ground-floor room. An open door.

She was still trying to orient herself when Mrs Patel put her arm around her shoulders and ushered her to the house. ‘I think it’s a cup of hot chocolate and bed for you, Allie. I’ve put a few of Rachel’s things in your room – they might be a bit big but you should be able to make them work. It’s only for a short time anyway.’

A steaming mug was placed in her tired hands then Mrs Patel led her up a flight of stairs to a spacious room with thick cream-coloured carpet and pale yellow walls. The lamp by the bed cast the room in a soft light and the double bed, covered in a lemony duvet, was made and turned down.

‘The bathroom is there.’ Mrs Patel pointed at a door. ‘And the clothes I’ve left you are in the dresser. Make yourself at home. Rachel will come to get you in the morning and bring you down to breakfast. Sleep well. We’ll talk it all over in the morning.’ With a reassuring smile, she closed the door behind her.

Allie sat on the bed for a long moment. She knew she should get up and wash her face. Find something to sleep in. Figure out where exactly she was.

Instead she kicked off her shoes and lay back against the pillows. Then, rolling on to her side, she curled up into a tight ball and counted her breaths.





THREE





‘Welcome back.’ After running lightly down the old stone stairs in front of the intimidating Victorian brick building that held Cimmeria Academy, Isabelle le Fanult pulled Allie into a warm hug. ‘I’m so glad to see you in one piece!’

‘It’s good to be whole.’ Allie grinned at the headmistress.

After the London rescue, she’d spent a few days sheltering with the Patels, which consisted mainly of hanging out by the pool and, memorably, riding a horse for the first time.

Clearly seeing a girl in need of a parent, Mrs Patel had overfed Allie and fretted about her safety, while Rachel’s younger sister, Minal, followed them everywhere, eager to be included in everything they did. In some ways it was bittersweet; the Patels were the kind of family Allie had always wanted. The kind of family hers had almost been once.

But Rachel’s father and Isabelle had decided they’d be safer at Cimmeria. So even though school didn’t start for another ten days, Mr Patel had driven the girls back.

The school looked the same as it had in the summer – huge, solid and intimidating. The three-storey red-brick building towered over them – its slate roof a range of Gothic peaks and valleys where wrought iron finials thrust into the sky like an armoury of dark knives. Symmetrical rows of arched windows seemed to watch them as they pulled their bags from the car.

The headmistress had pulled her light brown hair back tightly with a clip, and wore a white Cimmeria polo shirt over a pair of jeans. Allie couldn’t remember ever seeing her in jeans before.

‘Thank you for sending Mr P. to save me,’ Allie said. ‘I don’t know what would have happened without him.’

‘You followed my instructions perfectly.’ Even on a cloudy day like today the headmistress’ golden-brown eyes seemed to glow. ‘You were very brave. I can’t tell you how proud of you I am.’

Blushing, Allie looked down at her feet.

‘And Rachel, my star student.’ Smoothly deflecting attention, Isabelle turned. ‘Thank heaven you’re back; the library needs you. Eloise will be so glad you’re here. Hello, Raj.’ As she shook Rachel’s father’s hand she arched one eyebrow. ‘Or should I call you, Mr P.?’

‘If you must.’ His smile was wry. ‘I seem to have no say in the matter.’

Turning back to the stack of luggage beside the car, Isabelle said, ‘I assume most of these hold your books, Rachel? You can leave them here between terms, you know. We won’t throw them away.’

Grinning, Rachel picked up one of her bags and heaved it over her shoulder. ‘You know how I am, Isabelle …’