Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

Allie found her dressing gown in its usual place on the door hook, and dug her shower things out of one of the bags she’d dumped on the floor in the night.

The bathroom was halfway down the long corridor and she relished every step. Familiar wood floor. Familiar line of white bedroom doors, each with a familiar number in glossy black. Familiar bathroom with its familiar row of white sinks.

When she returned to her room after a hot shower, she put on the Cimmeria school uniform for the first time in months. Short, pleated dark blue skirt, crisp, white button-down shirt, blue-and-white tie, knotted loosely at her throat.

Then she studied herself in the mirror – she looked like herself again.

She’d never been happier to wear such boring clothes.

Grabbing a dark blue blazer from the wardrobe, she threw it over her shoulders as she hurried out, slamming the door behind her.

The long corridor was quiet as she hurried to the staircase. Normally she’d expect to jostle against the shoulders of dozens of other girls as she walked downstairs, but this was empty, too.

She ran down to the landing where sunlight poured through broad windows, illuminating a row of marble statues and making the chandeliers sparkle.

Down the sweeping main staircase with its ornate, carved bannister, to the grand hallway, panelled in polished oak and lined with oil paintings in heavy frames, and the hidden, panelled door to Isabelle’s office. Past the common room, strangely quiet.



She found Zoe near the entrance to the classroom wing, waiting impatiently at the base of a statue of a rotund, intimidating looking man with spectacles and a ludicrous wig.

‘You took longer than ten minutes.’ Zoe’s tone was accusing. ‘We have to hurry.’

Allie, who was used to her abruptness, didn’t take offence. She swung into step beside her as they walked into the shadowy hush of the classroom wing.

‘What kind of meeting is it?’

‘The usual kind,’ Zoe said.



‘How have things been?’ Allie asked. ‘Here, I mean?’

‘Like this.’ Zoe gestured at the dark and empty hallway. ‘Quiet. Weird. Wrong.’

Sylvain had already told her the school was down from two hundred and fifty students to fewer than forty. She should have been ready for the emptiness. But she wasn’t. It all felt hollow.

This was just the start. Nathaniel was openly courting sympathetic members of the board; he regularly met with Members of Parliament.

He was getting ready to take over.

The thought made Allie’s stomach feel tight. If he took over, everything would be lost.

‘I’m glad you’re back,’ Zoe said. Although neither her voice nor her eyes betrayed any emotion, Allie knew she meant it.

‘I’m glad to be here.’

The lights were off, but windows illuminated the staircase as they climbed two flights to the top floor, where small classrooms lined either side of the corridor.

Halfway down the hallway, Zoe shoved a door open without knocking. The low buzz of conversation inside ceased abruptly as they walked in.

The room was full of senior Night School students and teachers. As they all turned to see who it was, Allie hung back, suddenly shy.

‘Allie’s here,’ Zoe announced.

There was a pause, then everyone rushed towards her at once. Isabelle reached her first.

‘Zoe was supposed to let you sleep,’ she said with a wry smile.

Allie was so happy to see her she forgot any hurt at a lack of welcome the night before.

‘I wasn’t tired.’

Isabelle pulled her into a tight hug. Allie inhaled the familiar scent of the headmistress’ citrus-scented perfume.

She smelled like home.

‘Welcome back, Allie,’ Isabelle said.

Isabelle’s dark blonde hair was neatly pulled back in a clip – it hadn’t had time yet today to work its usual escape. Her cardigan, the colour of double cream, was soft beneath Allie’s cheek.

Only when the headmistress released her did Allie notice the shadows under her tawny eyes; the delicate new lines worry had carved into her forehead. She looked exhausted.

‘I need to talk to you about what happened,’ Allie said. ‘In France. How did Nathaniel—’

But then the other teachers surrounded them, pulling her away.

Isabelle caught her eye, ‘Let’s talk later.’

Allie couldn’t understand why she hadn’t already been debriefed. No one had sat her down to discuss what had happened in France. Why she’d been rushed home.

But she didn’t have time to think about it as Eloise, the librarian, pulled her into a nervous, barely there hug that ended as quickly as it began. They’d been quite close before Allie had accused Eloise, wrongly, she now believed, of being Nathaniel’s spy. Allie glanced at her, wondering how she could apologise for everything that had happened because of her allegation, but Eloise dodged her gaze.

Then Jerry, the science teacher, stepped between them and pumped her hand warmly. ‘It’s good to have you back.’