Night School: Legacy

She shook her head. ‘I have no idea. I mean, I know Lucinda Meldrum is our grandmother, and that Mum went to school here and didn’t tell us but that’s …’

‘So you know she lied to us our whole lives.’ The recognisable Christopher was gone now, replaced by an angry man who glared across the water at her. ‘And that she and Isabelle conspired to keep us in the dark about our own family. And that now our grandmother …’ he spat the word out with contempt ‘… is denying us our family heritage. You do know that. Right?’

‘Christopher, wait a second. Wait, wait, wait.’ Allie tried to cut through the stream of vitriol. ‘I don’t … How is Lucinda denying us our heritage?’

‘She refuses to acknowledge us as her family, Allie,’ he said. ‘How can you not know this? It’s all because of Isabelle. You see, Allie,’ he took a step closer to the water’s edge – moonlight turning his face ghostly pale – ‘Isabelle has a plan. This is what I need to tell you. She’s wheedled herself into Lucinda’s good graces, effectively replacing our mother. The last thing Isabelle wants now is for two kids to come along – real blood relatives – and take their rightful place as Lucinda’s heirs. So she’s keeping you at Cimmeria where she can control you completely.’

His face was twisted with rage, and she held her breath as she watched him. He looked deranged, she thought, her heart heavy in her chest.

‘Well, I’m not going to be a part of their little game,’ he continued. ‘Nathaniel has a plan, Allie. A good one. He’s going to take the power back from Isabelle completely. Get her out of the picture. He’s going to get rid of the people who’ve run the organisation for the last twenty years and then …’ He squeezed his hands into fists. ‘Then things will change around here.’

Sickened, Allie was suddenly glad of the water running between them.

‘Are you sure he’s the one to trust, Christopher?’ She kept her tone cautious but steady. ‘I mean, why trust him and not Isabelle? I find it hard to believe Isabelle’s power hungry like—’

‘Oh, Allie, don’t be ridiculous.’ Christopher cut her off. ‘Look around you. Where are you? You’re at a preparatory school for kings, prime ministers, bankers … These people will run the world one day, and Isabelle is their figurehead and you don’t think she’s power hungry?’ His voice rose in disbelief. ‘Bollocks. She’s power hungry all right. She’s hungrier than anybody.’

Stubbornly, Allie shook her head. ‘You don’t know her, Chris. She’s not like that. She really cares about me … about our family.’

‘Oh she does, does she?’ The heat that had fired his previous words was gone, replaced by ice. ‘Then ask yourself this: Why did she lie about Ruth’s death? And whatever happened to Ruth’s body anyway? And if you died, what would she do with yours?’

All the oxygen seemed to leave her lungs, as if he’d punched her. The one thing she couldn’t explain away – the one thing she couldn’t understand about Isabelle – was Ruth. Ruth was murdered at the summer ball, by Gabe. And Isabelle had covered it up. She’d knowingly – willingly – told everyone it was a suicide. Ruth’s parents had either believed her or gone along with it. Everybody for ever would think Ruth killed herself, and Allie could not accept it. It just wasn’t right.

But … how did Christopher know that?

Suddenly grief crashed over her like a wave. Must everything she cared about be taken away from her? Must everyone she trusted be a liar?

‘Why should I listen to you?’ She nearly screamed the words. ‘You abandoned me. Isn’t that betrayal? Then you just show up here, siding with some arsehole who kills people and … what? I’m supposed to go with you? I’m supposed to trust you?’

His expression changed, and he held out placating hands. ‘I know you’re angry at me. I’m sorry for what I did to you. But don’t trust Isabelle, Al, she’s a liar. She’s cheating you out of your inheritance and you don’t even realise it. She’s cheating you out of your whole family. She doesn’t really care about you. But I do.’

Allie crossed her arms across her torso. Her heart felt compressed into a tiny cube, cold in her chest. Every instinct in her body told her to run away. But she couldn’t go now. She had to know everything.

‘What exactly do you want me to do, Christopher?’ Although she felt breathless with anger and pain, her voice held steady. ‘Leave Cimmeria and come with you?’

‘Not yet.’ He seemed pleased by her question, perhaps thinking he was making headway with her. ‘But soon.’ He glanced over his shoulder; when he turned back he seemed almost apologetic. ‘Look, Al, we don’t have much time tonight. But we should meet again. I want to tell you about our plans.’