Night School: Legacy

But the other alternative was to lie to everybody she knew.

Thinking about that made her feel sick.

The way she’d felt lying to Carter tonight … How could I do that again and again?

And on and on her thoughts went until, at some point, just before dawn, she must have dozed, because the alarm woke her before seven.


All that day, she moved in a fog of exhaustion and panic; her classes passed in a blur. When Rachel commented on the dark circles under her eyes, Allie lied again. ‘I think I’m coming down with something.’

Lying was getting easier, but when Rachel tutted like a mother hen and insisted on getting her tea with honey she felt like a monster.

All day – every minute of the day – she worried about what she was going to do.

At dinner, she stirred the food on her plate, not touching it, avoiding Rachel’s sharp gaze. She was meeting Sylvain later for her interview and everything was so complicated now she had no idea what to do, what to say.

She was too tired to spin some sort of elaborate lie. But if she told him the truth …

Suddenly she did feel ill, and she pushed her plate away. What am I going to do?

*

Just after eight o’clock, Allie stood at the foot of the stairs, her arms crossed tightly, helping to hold her upright. Her head was so cloudy – sleeplessness and stress were taking their toll. Nothing felt real.

‘I’m sorry I’m late.’ As he ran up to her, short of breath, Sylvain smiled disarmingly. ‘I had a last-minute meeting with Jerry that went on so long, I thought perhaps I would be there for the rest of my life.’ Running his fingers through his ruffled hair, he nodded towards the classroom wing. ‘I have an idea of where we can go, if you want to try it?’

He took the stairs two at a time; she followed him silently. (Sixty-six steps.) The second-floor hallway was dark as they walked through the shadows (sixteen steps) past empty classrooms. Their footsteps echoed hollowly.

‘In here.’ Opening a door near the end of the hall, he flipped the light switch and the fluorescent lights flickered on. The room was small (ten desks arranged in five rows of two, four windows …). Sylvain turned two desks so they faced each other then, directing her to one, slid into the other, giving a slight groan as he stretched his long legs out into the aisle.

‘This has been a long day,’ he said, reaching into his bag. ‘Jerry was really on my case today. He’s been in a terrible mood lately.’

Allie found it hard to imagine Jerry, the kindly science teacher, on anyone’s case. He’d always been patient with her.

Sylvain set a notebook in the middle of the desk in front of him and produced a slim, silver pen.

‘Listen,’ he began, a serious line dividing his azure eyes, ‘I must tell you again that I’m sorry they chose me for this.’ He stopped, studying her face for the first time. ‘Are you OK? You look terrible.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, but her words came out a whisper. Clearing her throat, she tried again. ‘Just … coming down with something, maybe.’

‘I want to say first that you can trust me.’

Colour rose in her cheeks, and she looked away.

Two breaths in, one breath out …

‘I mean …’ He was studying her closely and she got the feeling he’d observed her reaction. ‘I know you may never trust me, and I don’t blame you for that. But you can trust me not to tell anybody what you tell me today. I will only write it down and hand it in. OK?’

She had to force herself to meet his eyes, and she knew her cheeks were burning with the heat of all the unspoken words between them – how angry she’d been after the summer ball, and the confusion that had dominated her feelings towards him ever since; how he made her feel both safe and threatened.

‘OK,’ she said, her voice steady. ‘This wasn’t your idea, any more than it was mine. And I’m fine with it. I really am. I’d rather it were you than … well, a lot of people. So let’s just do this.’

I’m glad it’s you, she thought, and then wondered where the thought came from.

‘Good.’ With a relieved smile, he opened his notebook. ‘Let’s do it.’

His first few questions were the same ones she’d asked Carter. When he asked her grandparents’ names, she quickly reeled off the names of her father’s deceased parents. Then she paused.

He glanced up at her enquiringly. ‘And your mother’s parents?’

‘I … I’m afraid I don’t actually know my grandfather’s name on that side of the family,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve never been told.’

A puzzled frown crossed his face but he said nothing, making a note in his notebook. ‘And your grandmother?’

Rain pattered against the window in a staccato rhythm. It sounded like small pebbles being pelted against the glass.

‘My grandmother’s name is Lucinda Meldrum.’ Her voice was calm.