Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

When they emerged from the park some time later, the street lights blinded them at first.

A night bus roared by and Allie looked around in confusion. She had no idea where they were. They hadn’t come out on genteel Tanza Road but somewhere else completely – this was a wide, steep avenue, busy with cars and buses even after midnight.

In her mind she kept seeing the red blood pouring on to Lucinda’s clean white blouse. She forced the image away with iron will.

She would have years to cry about this night.

Not now.

She could see the confusion on Carter’s face, too and it helped to calm her. She was the one who’d grown up in this city. She needed to be the one to get them to the safe house. There were other people on this pavement. Normal people. She wondered how they must look to them – a couple of battered and bloodied kids wandering around Hampstead in the middle of the night. Someone might call the cops.

Smoothing loose strands of hair away from her sweaty face, she schooled her features into the bland, disinterested look every Londoner eventually acquires.

Ahead of them, a group of kids their age in hoodies swung around the corner and began walking towards them. Allie saw Carter stiffen as they neared, ready for a fight.

‘Act cool,’ she said, as much to herself as to him. She was surprised by how calm she sounded. How controlled.

The kids didn’t even glance at them when they passed.

Allie waited until they were just out of earshot. ‘Look. I don’t know where we are,’ she said in a conversational tone.

Slapping at his pockets, Carter shot her a helpless look. ‘My GPS – it’s gone. I must have dropped it in the fight.’

Allie bit her lip and looked around them, but nothing seemed familiar.

‘I’m going to stop for a second,’ she said. ‘Just … follow my lead.’

When they reached an ancient-looking pub set back off the road, Allie walked on to its front path and crouched down, pretending to tighten her shoelaces. As she did so she checked out the signs around them.

Spaniard’s Inn … Spaniard’s Road …

In her head she visualised the maps they’d memorised. This wasn’t any of the streets they were told to look for, and it took her a second to place it. When she did, her heart sank.

‘Oh bollocks, Carter.’ She stood up. ‘We’re on the wrong side of the bloody park.’

He held up his hands. ‘Which way to the safe house?’

She pointed down the long, curving road running alongside the dark heath.

‘That way,’ she said grimly. ‘A long way.’

He didn’t argue. ‘Let’s get walking.’

Hampstead Heath sprawls for hundreds of acres. Nathaniel’s guards were all over it right now. They needed to get away from it, fast.

Allie pressed her fingertips against her forehead as she mapped out a mental route.

‘OK,’ she said after a second. ‘Stick with me. I think I know where to go.’

Carter didn’t question her as she set off at a rapid pace. He stuck close to her side, letting her lead.

The need to plan and think of practical logistics cleared the fog from Allie’s mind. She felt in control. They needed to get out of here. She could focus on that.

One foot, she told herself. Then the other foot. One foot …

After ten minutes fast walking they turned off the busy road on to a leafy residential lane lined with well-maintained houses. No light came through the wide windows at this hour. No cars passed them.

It was peaceful here. Their footsteps made soft rubbery sounds against the pristine pavement. Their breathing seemed unnecessarily loud.

Images from the park kept intruding into the controlled space of Allie’s mind. Lucinda’s fierce expression. The suppressed glimmer of her blood-covered diamond ring.

Some part of Allie simply couldn’t accept that it really happened. Lucinda Meldrum could not be shot. People like her did not get shot. They were protected. They were safe.

She kept seeing the haunted look on Nathaniel’s face. Hearing his pleading voice. ‘Stay with me, Lucinda. Please.’

‘Did he shoot her?’ The words came out unexpectedly. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

In the dark, Carter looked pale. His dark hair clung to the damp skin of his forehead.

‘Who?’ he asked. ‘Nathaniel?’

‘Yes,’ Allie said. ‘Was he the one who shot her?’

‘I saw two guns,’ Carter said. ‘Gabe’s and Jerry’s. But there were a lot of people. I don’t think Nathaniel did it though.’

‘No,’ Allie agreed. ‘He actually seemed upset.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t get it … I thought he hated her.’

‘Hate and love,’ Carter said. ‘They’re a lot alike.’

They turned on to another road, just as quiet as the first. They were halfway down it before she summoned the courage to ask the one question she was most afraid of.

‘Do you think she’s dead?’

Carter glanced at her; his pace slowed.