Night School: Legacy

‘Indeed I do. Well let’s get you settled in. Everybody’s busy with the repair work, so we’re more on our own than usual.’


The headmistress picked up a bag and walked briskly to the door. The others lumbered themselves with luggage and followed her through the grand entryway with its stained glass window, dull on this cloudy day with no sun to illuminate it. Allie noticed the fanciful unicorn tapestry usually found hanging near the door was missing. And it soon became clear much more had changed since she’d last seen the school on the night it nearly burned down.

‘Carter, Sylvain and Jo are here already.’ Isabelle’s voice echoed as they walked across the stone floor towards the grand hallway. ‘Jules will be back in the next few days, as will Lucas and a few of the older students, but we’ll be a small group until term starts.’

In the wide, main hallway, the wood floors were covered in an inelegant carpet of dirty canvas dust sheets. The dozens of oil paintings that usually brightened the glossy oak wall panelling had all been removed. Without them the space felt oddly naked and, to Allie, disturbingly impermanent.

Ahead, Isabelle was still talking cheerfully but Allie noticed how high-pitched she sounded; she could hear the strain the headmistress was trying to hide.

‘Because some rooms were damaged in the fire, classes and bedrooms are being shifted around.’ Isabelle’s sensible, rubber-soled shoes gripped each step with firm assurance. ‘We must be ready by the time the rest of the students begin arriving in ten days. I think you’ll find volunteering to help is compulsory.’

At a brisk pace, she led them up the wide staircase, where the Edwardian crystal chandelier overhead was draped in a filmy, protective fabric that looked like a gigantic spider-web. As she trotted after the others, she could hear hammers banging somewhere, workers shouting orders and the sound of something being dragged.

She’d known repairs would be needed. Even though she’d left the day after the fire, she’d seen enough to know the work would be substantial. But somehow she hadn’t envisioned the school so … damaged. Stripped of the art and details that had made it feel like a fairy tale castle it seemed wounded, and she trailed her hand softly up the wide, polished oak banister as if to comfort it.

At the top of the stairs they turned on to a narrower staircase which led them to another hallway and then a second set of steps. The acrid smell of smoke was stronger here and Allie’s stomach churned as she remembered the night a few weeks before when she’d seen her brother, Christopher, standing down the hall, a flaming torch in one hand, as he set fire to the school.

As if she’d expected this reaction, Isabelle was by her side in an instant, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning her away from her room.

‘Your room had smoke and water damage, Allie, so we’ve moved you down the hall.’ She steered Allie past her usual door to one marked 371. ‘Your things have already been moved.’

‘Hey, that’s right next to mine!’ Rachel said, throwing open the door marked 372. As she walked in Allie heard her say, ‘Hello small, rectangular personal space. How I love you.’

Isabelle opened the door to Allie’s room. ‘I thought you might feel better living closer to Rachel.’

The plainly furnished room smelled of the sticky-clean, chemical scent of fresh paint. Allie stood in the doorway as Isabelle fussed with the arched, shutter-style window, pushing it open to let the watery grey light flood in.

The tall bookcase was lined with the familiar spines of her small collection of books. The bed was covered in a fluffy white duvet, and a dark blue blanket was folded neatly over the footboard – just as it had been in her previous room. Everything was exactly the same.

Isabelle was already heading out of the door. ‘Your parents sent some of your things over; I’ve put them in the wardrobe. Once you’re all settled in, come and find me. Let’s have a chat.’

As the door closed Allie’s heart gave a happy flutter. She was back where she belonged.

This homecoming was so different from last term, when she first arrived at Cimmeria. Back then it had seemed intimidating and hateful. Most of the students had treated her like a gatecrasher at an exclusive party. Her parents had been so angry with her at the time – she’d just been arrested – they told her nothing about the school. They just drove her here and dropped her off. When Jules, the perfect, blonde prefect, showed her around on her first day she’d felt like an idiot. It was only then that she discovered its bizarre rules – all electronic devices were banned, and nobody could leave the school grounds – and the elite group known as Night School, which gathered secretly after curfew and took part in strange training rituals other students were forbidden even to watch.