SIX

Allie froze and tried not to breathe.

Gabe encircled Jo in his arms protectively, and Sylvain pulled Allie behind him. They both stared through the open door, their eyes alert.

Something crashed through the garden and Allie jumped at the sound, but it sounded further away than before. And after a few seconds … silence.

When a few uneventful moments had passed, Gabe and Sylvain exchanged a look, and then as if they’d been given a signal they began walking quickly towards the door. Gabe scanned the area around them, then looked back and nodded, and they all ran silently out into the garden and down the path to the door, and out onto the lawn. Wordlessly, Jo handed Gabe the lock and he secured the door.

For the first time Allie became conscious of the fact that Sylvain still had his arms around her. He had a distinctive scent of pine or juniper and she inhaled deeply, relaxing into his arms. Immediately his grip tightened around her.

Faint streaks of light still glimmered in the sky as Gabe led them in through a back door that took them directly into the central hallway. In the light, Allie saw that Jo looked pale, and that she clung to Gabe tearfully. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, and Gabe touched it lightly with his finger.

‘You’re hurt,’ he said. ‘We should take you to the nurse.’

She nodded her consent, and he wrapped his arm around her and walked her down the hall. Allie felt again the curious ache of envy. As if he’d sensed it, Sylvain stepped towards her and examined her face, smoothing her hair back.

‘Are you wounded at all?’ The concern in his eyes made her heart flutter. Now that he wasn’t holding her any more she felt an almost irresistible urge to climb back into his arms and breathe in that scent. Everywhere he touched her tingled.

She took a shaky breath. ‘Sylvain, what was out there?’

‘I don’t know.’

Something about his tone didn’t ring true and she looked up at him sharply. She had a feeling he was holding something back – something important.

‘We have to tell Isabelle what happened,’ she announced. Her eyes burned with determination.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait until tomorrow, though. She’s probably asleep. Everyone is fine now and you do not want to appear to overreact, no?’

Even though she wanted to disagree, she could see the logic – they had, after all, seen nothing. But after the adrenalin in the garden and the rush of the rescue, she wanted to do something. To go back outside and look for whatever that was. Or at least to sit and talk about what had happened. There was no way she’d be able to sleep.

‘Maybe we should go and check on Jo?’ she suggested hopefully.

‘She’s OK – Gabe’s with her.’ Sylvain paused and then continued with some reluctance as if he knew what her response would be. ‘Listen, it is past curfew. You should go to bed and we will deal with all of this tomorrow.’

Allie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘What, seriously? No, Sylvain! I want to talk about what happened. Be completely honest: what did you see out there?’

Sylvain’s reply was carefully framed.

‘I am afraid I saw nothing. Perhaps it was some sort of animal. Maybe you disturbed a fox or a badger.’ As she opened her mouth to protest he held up his hand to stop her. ‘You’re tired, Allie. And I’m tired, too. You really should go to sleep.’

Allie wanted to stay, but arguing about whether or not she was tired didn’t seem like the best reason to break curfew and get detention.

Reluctantly, she acquiesced. ‘Fine then. Good night Sylvain.’

Her tone was brusque, but as she turned to go he caught her wrist and held it gently.

‘What? No good night kiss?’ he said, with a low chuckle. ‘No “thank you for rescuing me, Sylvain”? Not even a “you’re my hero, Sylvain”? You should never go to bed angry, ma belle Allie.’

His blue eyes danced with amusement and he pulled her close, wrapping her in the hug she’d wanted a few minutes ago.

At first, out of sheer stubbornness, she resisted but when he whispered jokingly in her ear, ‘It’s more fun if you help,’ she found herself laughing. His accent was completely irresistible anyway, and those eyes were incredible.

When he kissed her cheek his lips lingered and his breath felt warm and welcome on her skin. She leaned into him, hoping it would last.

‘Now,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘go to bed on your own or I’ll drag you up there myself.’

Allie focused on staying cool but she was melting inside.

‘Whatever,’ she said, turning away before he could see the effect he had on her.

But of course he knew anyway.

‘Sweet dreams,’ he called after her with a light laugh.

She ran up the stairs without looking back.

The next morning Allie was up at six and feeling oddly energetic, as if the adrenalin from last night still rushed through her veins. Standing in front of her wardrobe, she wondered what to wear for hard labour, finally deciding on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a white T-shirt with the school’s insignia on the breast. She pulled her hair back with a clip and, grabbing the detention notice, headed downstairs at a trot.

Her stomach grumbled but it was too early for breakfast. Taking a chance, she peeked into the dining room and found it empty, however one table held bacon sandwiches on a warming platter alongside a silver ice bucket filled with water bottles. She walked into the room with some hesitation.

They must be for us, otherwise why would they be there?

Picking up a sandwich and a bottle, she looked around the empty space.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, holding the bottle of water aloft in a salute.

She munched on the sandwich as she made her way through the quiet entrance hall and down the front steps. The morning air was cool and the sky overcast. Leaves of grass brushed chilly dew on her ankles.

She thought it was actually quite nice being out on the grounds alone.

But I wouldn’t want to do it every day.

In her head, she went over the experiences of the night before and practised describing it all to Isabelle in a way that didn’t sound hysterical or emotional. It wasn’t easy.

Walking past the treeline and into the shadows she shivered – it was several degrees colder out of the sun. The path was arrow-straight, shooting under pines and bypassing thorny brambles. Feathery wings of ferns delicately tickled against her calves but she barely noticed as she continued her mental vivisection of the evening before.

After about ten minutes, the path arrived at a low stone wall, which it followed for about fifty feet before reaching a gate opening into a slightly overgrown churchyard. An ancient stone chapel stood in the middle, and a small group of students clustered near the door looking bored. Allie breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that they were all dressed much like her. Seeing nobody she recognised, she kept to the fringes of the group, leaning against the elaborately gnarled trunk of a yew tree.

She’d barely got comfortable when the door of the chapel opened and a woman appeared in the doorway. Casually dressed in dark linen trousers and a white button-down shirt, her long dark hair was knotted loosely on her head. She held a clipboard in one hand.

‘Can I have all notices, please?’

As the students walked up she took their sheets without comment, but when Allie handed hers in, she stopped her.

‘You must be Allie.’ She sounded as pleased as if they’d met in the dining room over a cup of tea. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from Isabelle. I’m Eloise Derleth, the librarian. You must stop in and say hello. Isabelle left some books for you at my desk.’

She gave Allie a beaming smile and moved on to gather the rest of the papers together. When everything was in order, she raised her voice so the whole group could hear her.

‘I know you’re all eager to find out what today’s chore will be. So I won’t keep you waiting. Please follow me.’

Some students rolled their eyes and giggled as they trooped along behind her. Allie stuck to the edges, caution holding her back.

Eloise led them around the side of the chapel to a shed at the back of the churchyard. It was a lovely place with aged gravestones leaning higgledy-piggledy under leafy trees amid deep, soft grass. An old garden bench rotted slowly against the wall in a pool of sunshine. A man in the black work outfit worn by the staff at the school waited at the back of the building.

‘Today you’re going to be clearing the churchyard,’ Eloise explained. ‘Mr Ellison will give you everything you need and assign you tasks for the morning. Good luck!’

With a cheerful smile, she walked briskly down the path and out the gate. Allie headed over to join the group queuing to collect tools from Mr Ellison.

‘I’m dividing you up into teams.’ His voice was a rich, resonant baritone, and as he handed out tools, Allie marvelled at the sheer size of him. He must have been six and a half feet tall; his arms were thick and strong, probably, she theorised, from working outside all his life. His skin was the colour of espresso, and he had a wonderfully calming manner.

‘These are my weed trimmers here.’ He gestured at a group of boys he’d already armed with noisy devices. ‘They’ll trim around the graves while this group here,’ he pointed at two boys and a girl pushing lawnmowers in various directions, ‘do the main clearing.’

Allie was the last in the queue. As she walked up, Mr Ellison gave her a polite nod.

‘You two will be my rakers.’

Two?

She spun around to find Carter standing beside her, gazing innocently at the gardener as he handed over their rakes. As she stared at him, astonished, Carter thanked him politely, then turned on his heel and strode off carrying both rakes in one hand.

She hurried after him, hopping gingerly past the graves and stumbling on the uneven ground as the angry mosquito buzz of lawn devices filled the air.

‘What are you doing here? And where are you going?’ she asked sharply. And when he ignored her: ‘Hey! Shouldn’t we be raking instead of running?’

Carter didn’t seem bothered by her attitude. ‘I have detention. Why are you here? And can you please chill? We need to wait a few minutes for the mowers to give us something to rake. So I’m getting out of the way.’

He didn’t stop until he got to the yew tree near the front of the church. He leaned the rakes against the trunk and then, stepping up on a bulging tree root, climbed onto a low branch where he sat comfortably with his legs hanging down. Holding out his hand to her, he raised his eyebrow questioningly.

After hesitating (and imagining herself standing aloof and saying, ‘No thanks, I’m happy standing.’) Allie reluctantly reached up. As he took her hand and lifted her up beside him, there was something in his gaze that she couldn’t interpret and she felt a rush of colour to her cheeks.

She slid out along the gnarled branch away from him, then sat with one leg dangling and the other bent, with her foot propped on the branch. He turned to face her, so that his back rested against the trunk. Spinning a twig between two fingers, he studied her curiously. She watched the lawnmowers make grass disappear and pretended not to notice his gaze. From up here she could hear the sound of rushing water.

‘Look,’ Carter said, ‘I’ve been wanting to get you alone so that I could apologise.’

She glanced up at him, surprised. He looked, she thought, uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

‘I gave you the wrong idea the other day in the library,’ he said. ‘I know you thought I was saying something I wasn’t. I think you have as much a right as anybody else does to be here. OK? Please believe that.’

Although she nodded, her expression was still guarded. He sighed with frustration.

‘I feel terrible about this. You must think I’m a complete dick.’

She nodded again with an ironic half-smile, and he laughed. She tried to fight a smile and failed.

‘I knew it. Allie, I hope you believe me. I didn’t mean what you thought I did. Not at all. I hate the snobs at this school. I won’t be one of them. Can we start over?’

Something in her didn’t trust him. But then, she thought, something in her didn’t trust anyone. And what was the point of dragging this out?

‘Sure,’ she said finally.

‘Good. Now we’re at the beginning again.’ Looking out over the garden he said, ‘Right. Well, that was short and sweet. Looks like they’re getting somewhere. We better get started.’

He jumped down from the tree, landing smoothly, and turned to help her down. As she slid to the edge of the branch, he reached past her outstretched hand and put his hands on her waist, lifting her off the tree with ease. She was surprised at his strength.

‘Off to work we go,’ he said, turning away to pick up the rakes. Watching his loping stride, she followed him into the graveyard.

The gravestones gave little away (‘Emma Littlejohn, beloved Wife of Frederick Littlejohn and Mother of Frances Littlejohn 1803–1849 God grant ye Reste’) but she found herself unable to pass one without reading it and thinking about the occupant, wondering if they’d had happy lives and what had brought them to this place.

Forty-six. Not really that old, she thought. Her own mother was probably at least that now.

The mowers had already made a pretty good start on the long grass, and Carter handed Allie a rake and began combing the grass and leaves expertly into large piles. She joined in raking as best she could, and whispering an apology to each grave.

Sorry to disturb you, Mrs Coxon (1784–1827). I’ll just be a moment.

But her pile was a mess and she lost half of the grass on the way to the stack.

‘You’re really great at this,’ Carter said sardonically.

‘Shut up!’ She laughed. ‘Give me a break. I’ve never done this before.’

‘Never done what? Raked?’ He looked genuinely surprised.

‘Yeah, I’ve never raked.’ She shrugged.

‘How have you never raked? Don’t your parents make you do anything?’ His tone was disapproving.

‘I live in London, Carter. We don’t have a garden, we’ve got, like, a patio with lots of pots and some flowers around the edge. I’ve swept it plenty of times, but I’ve never raked.’

He worked in silence for a few minutes then shook his head. ‘London must be full of kids who’ve never done anything like this. That is so weird to me. I can’t imagine not working outside, getting my hands dirty.’

Leaning against her rake, she marvelled at how efficiently he worked.

‘Where are you from?’ she asked.

He made a sweeping gesture at the land around them. ‘You’re looking at it.’

‘What, you live around here?’

‘I live here. Here is home.’

Puzzled, she raked for a few minutes then stopped again, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

‘But where did you live before here?’

‘Nowhere. This is where I grew up. My parents worked here as part of the staff. I’m here on scholarship. I’ve never lived anywhere else.’

‘Your parents are teachers?’

Still working, he answered her without looking up. ‘No. My parents were part of the staff.’ He emphasised were and staff.

‘So,’ Allie worried the grass with her rake, ‘they don’t work here any more?’

‘No.’ His voice was cold. ‘They don’t let you work here after you’re dead.’

Allie froze. He worked furiously; she could see the muscles move under his shirt.

Here lie Mr and Mrs West. At peace.

‘Oh God, Carter. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

He kept raking. ‘Of course you didn’t. How could you? Don’t worry about it.’

Dropping her rake, she walked over and touched his arm.

‘I’m really sorry.’

Jerking his arm away, he glared at her. ‘Don’t be. And, seriously? I don’t want to be here all day, so would you help?’

Stung, she picked up her rake and walked a few graves away. For twenty minutes they worked in silence. Allie’s back and arms ached, but she’d made several impressive piles of leaves and grass. She looked over at Carter several times, but he never stopped.

Gradually, the awful buzzing of the garden equipment declined, and after another ten minutes or so it stopped altogether as the last grass trimmer was turned off and returned to Mr Ellison, who was carefully organising the returned supplies.

‘I think we’re done here.’

Allie was so lost in her work that Carter’s words startled her and she dropped her rake. As she picked it up, the strand of hair escaped again, and she brushed it back again absently.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘turn around.’

She looked at him doubtfully but after a moment’s hesitation did as he asked. Standing behind her, he smoothed the errant lock, gently winding it into her clip. She stood very still. His light touch on the nape of her neck gave her goose-bumps. After a few seconds the touch stopped, but he said nothing.

When she turned around, he was walking to the chapel carrying both rakes. She hurried after him, tripping over a tuft of grass.

‘Here you go, Bob,’ Carter said, handing the rakes to Mr Ellison.

‘Thanks. You in trouble again, Carter?’

‘Always.’

Mr Ellison had a deep chuckle that Allie liked instantly. She smiled up at him, and stuck her hands into her pockets.

‘I hope we did an OK job, Mr Ellison.’

He smiled at her kindly. ‘It looks great, Miss Sheridan. Thanks for your help.’

As they walked down the path he called after them, ‘Don’t let Carter get you into any more trouble.’

Without waiting for her, Carter strode across the churchyard and then out the gate.

Briefly Allie wondered whether she should try and catch up with him, but she decided against it. Instead she walked at a leisurely pace hoping he’d get far ahead of her.

A few minutes later, though, as she rounded a bend he was standing on the path, kicking a stone. Avoiding his eyes she walked past him quickly, without a word.

‘Allie, wait!’ She could hear him running to catch up with her, but she didn’t turn around. When he reached her he began walking alongside her, backwards so that he could see her face.

‘Here’s the thing,’ he said, ‘I seem to have behaved like an arse again.’

‘No worries,’ she said coolly. ‘At least you’re consistent.’

She was surprised to hear him laugh.

‘OK, I deserve that. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just really sensitive about … some things.’ His eyes darkened and he kicked a rock off the path.

Allie thought about Christopher and how sensitive she’d been about his disappearance.

‘It’s cool,’ she said. ‘I’m over it.’

‘You sure?’ he said.

‘Totally.’

Clearly satisfied, he turned around and walked beside her.

‘Have you recovered from last night, then?’ he asked.

She looked over at him, surprised. ‘How do you know about last night?’

‘Nobody has any secrets at Cimmeria,’ he said. ‘I heard Jo got hurt running in the dark.’

Allie wondered how honest she should be. She wanted to talk about it with somebody, but she was afraid Carter would make fun of her.

‘It was scary,’ she admitted.

‘What exactly did you see?’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I mean, it was too dark. We just heard …’

She didn’t know how to explain it.

‘What did you hear?’ His dark eyes were hard to read.

‘I heard something growl,’ she admitted, ‘like a dog. But I heard footsteps, too. The human kind.’

‘What do you think it could have been?’ she asked. ‘I mean, do people have dogs here? Like teachers or … staff?’

‘No dogs,’ he said shortly.

‘Well, somebody has a dog,’ she muttered. ‘Or somebody growls.’

He stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped into him.

‘Honestly?’ he said. ‘I think it was some of the guys teasing you. Trying to scare you.’

For some reason she hadn’t expected that.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘That’s stupid.’

‘Because they’re childish,’ he said. ‘And bored. And you’re new. They did it for fun.’

The idea that a gang of boys would make fun of her did seem plausible. And it hurt, though she tried not to show it. As they walked down the path she stared at her feet, swallowing hard. But something about his explanation didn’t ring true. Because what about Jo? She’d been there, too.

As she thought it through, she decided there were only two possibilities. Either the incident had been an elaborate hoax, in which Gabe and Sylvain had both participated. Or Carter was lying to her.

She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes – he was staring straight ahead.

‘You know, Gabe and Sylvain rescued us,’ she said casually. ‘Were they in on it?’

Carter’s mood darkened. ‘Oh, they rescued you, huh? How heroic.’ He turned to look at her. ‘What’s going on between you and Sylvain, anyway? You’ve only been here a few days, but I hear he’s already staking a claim.’

She couldn’t resist rising to the bait.

‘That’s ridiculous. Nobody’s claiming anybody. Sylvain’s just been nice to me. He seems like a nice guy.’

‘Sylvain? Nice?’ Carter scoffed. ‘I doubt that very seriously.’

She glared at him. ‘You know what? Sylvain has been nothing but nice to me since I got here. Unlike just about everybody else.’

Grabbing her arm, he turned her to face him. ‘Just … be careful, Allie. Things aren’t as straightforward in here as they are out there.’

His expression was intense and he looked sincere, but she yanked her arm loose angrily. Before she could reply she heard Sylvain’s silken voice.

‘Allie. There you are. I was just coming to find you.’

He appeared out of the shadows, walking down the path from the school. Carter gave her a warning look and she shot him a glare.

‘Carter. Of course. I should have known you’d have detention today. You always do.’ Sylvain’s tone was light and joking, but there was something serious underlying his words.

‘And you, Sylvain, never do.’ Carter’s voice was laced with contempt as he shoved past Sylvain and stalked away towards the school.

With concern in his eyes, Sylvain turned to Allie. ‘Did something happen? You look upset.’

‘It was nothing,’ Allie said as Carter disappeared around a bend. ‘He’s just a bit of a tosser, isn’t he?’

‘I think that describes him perfectly.’ When Sylvain smiled his eyes were cat-like. ‘So how was detention? Awful?’

‘It wasn’t too bad. Just one blister.’ She held up her right hand, where a white bump had formed on her palm at the base of her ring finger.

‘Tragic.’ He lifted her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed it. Allie shivered. Goosebumps again. ‘I have decided you should never do manual labour,’ he said. ‘It’s not your style. You should have servants feeding you, while you wear silk …’

The absurdity of the idea made her laugh. ‘Yeah, they could peel me grapes while I count my diamonds …’

‘You joke, but it could happen.’ He still held her hand, and now he pulled her with him down the path. ‘Regretfully, this is not merely a social call. I have come for you at the request of Isabelle. She would like to see you.’

Allie’s stomach muscles tightened. She wasn’t really surprised that the headmistress would want to see her, given that she’d already been given detention. But she was so hoping not to be in serious trouble for a change.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I guess that’s not a surprise.’

As they walked she turned to look at him. ‘About last night …’

‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘The brutal attack in the garden.’

His tone was teasing but Allie was serious. ‘Who was that? I heard footsteps, and, like, a dog or something.’

‘I think the footsteps you heard were probably Gabe and me,’ Sylvain said. ‘And what you thought was a dog was probably a fox.’

‘A fox that growls?’ Allie asked dubiously.

‘It could have been trapped in one of the sheds and distressed,’ Sylvain shrugged. ‘It is not unusual.’

Allie studied his face closely. ‘Carter said he thought it was some boys making fun of me.’

Sylvain frowned. ‘That is ridiculous. I would know if that had happened. It is bizarre to me that he would say such a thing.’

For some reason, Allie was relieved to hear him say that. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’s what I thought, too.’

As the path reached the school’s grassy lawn, Allie had a thought. ‘Why did Isabelle send you to get me rather than one of the junior students?’ she asked.

‘Oh, I was at a prefect meeting and we were chatting,’ he said. ‘It’s not unusual. She knows we are … friends.’

She glanced at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you were a prefect.’

‘Didn’t you?’ he said, pulling her closer. ‘Well now that you know, you must do everything I say. Because I am the boss.’

Laughing, she pulled free of him. ‘Oh is that how it works? Well, we’ll have to see about that.’

She ran ahead with Sylvain on her heels, and when he caught her at the door she was helpless with laughter. But as she reached for the handle the door swung open and Zelazny stepped out.

Allie’s giggles evaporated.

‘Miss Sheridan.’ It might have been Saturday but the history teacher still wore a suit and tie, and his voice oozed disapproval. ‘I’m gratified to see that you are taking your morning of detention so seriously.’

I’ve been arrested by less grumpy men, Allie thought.

But before she could speak, Sylvain stepped in front of her. ‘It is my fault, Mr Zelazny. I have been trying to cheer Allie up because she was so sad when I found her on the path after her difficult morning of detention. Please do not judge her for my actions.’

Zelazny marched past them. ‘Detention she richly deserved,’ he muttered.

‘Of course,’ Sylvain said, smoothly steering Allie through the entry hall as she struggled not to laugh out loud.

When they were out of earshot Allie doubled over with laughter, but Sylvain shushed her. ‘Not here, ma belle Allie,’ he whispered. ‘His hearing is exceptional.’

She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling her own giggles.

‘I do not want to see you trapped in detention for an entire week,’ Sylvain said. ‘August is very … sensitive.’

‘August?’ she asked.

‘Mr Zelazny. That is his first name.’

‘Oh.’

‘And now,’ he said, ‘I must leave you. Isabelle will be waiting in the first classroom on the right. Good luck.’

Bending over he kissed her hand.

Allie wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

‘Bye!’ she said too brightly, before hurrying into the silent and empty classroom wing.

The first door on the right was closed, and Allie knocked lightly.

‘Come in.’ The headmistress’ distinctive voice answered immediately.

Inside, Allie found Isabelle sitting at the desk, surrounded by stacks of papers. A laptop was open beside her and she closed it before Allie could see anything on the screen, but she looked at its top longingly.

Modern life still exists.

‘Please, have a seat.’ Isabelle gestured at a chair near her. ‘You must excuse me – I’m doing the accounts and it always seems to involve filling a village hall with papers, so I choose to work on it in the spacious environs of a classroom.’

Pulling off her glasses, she stood up and stretched before moving to the seat next to Allie. ‘How was detention this morning?’

‘Fine, I guess,’ Allie shrugged. ‘I mean, it was hard work but it was fine.’

Isabelle smiled at her kindly. ‘I think August was too stern with you, and I’ve told him so. I wanted you to know that. I didn’t want to undermine him by removing his punishment but I don’t think it was fair.’

Her words were so unexpected that Allie couldn’t think of anything to say – nobody had ever apologised to her for injustice before. She didn’t even know it was possible.

‘Thank you,’ was the best she could come up with, but Isabelle seemed to see on her face how much it meant to her.

‘August is known for his strictness, so I don’t want you to feel singled out,’ she continued. ‘He sees to it that a week never goes by without at least a few students working in the gardens or organising the old store rooms. But I’ve asked him to give you more time to adjust before he includes you in his punishment rota again.’

She studied Allie curiously. ‘And the incident last night – we should talk about that. Sylvain said some sort of wild animal frightened you in the garden?’

‘Well, we don’t know what it was,’ Allie said. ‘It crashed through the garden and … chased us, I guess. We thought we heard it growling, or something. What do you think it could have been?’

‘Sylvain suggested it could be foxes. We do have rather a lot of them around,’ Isabelle said.

Frowning, Allie tilted her head to one side. ‘We have foxes in London, but I’ve never heard one of them growl or seen one chase people.’

‘Well, this is the country,’ Isabelle said. ‘Foxes are wilder here – the ones in London are practically tame. A vixen can be very protective of her cubs. I’ve asked the ground staff to look out for any other sort of animal but I can’t think of what else it could have been. I’m very glad you are both OK.’

She sounded sincere, and Allie was gratified that she hadn’t made her sound like an idiot.

Isabelle was moving on to other issues now, though.

‘How are you, really? Are you making friends? Sylvain tells me you’re doing well, and that you and he are getting along famously, and I’m glad to hear that. He is one of our best students.’

Allie blushed. It was weird to think that Sylvain, who flirted with her constantly, discussed her with the headmistress.

‘I’m OK,’ she said, sliding down in her chair a bit. ‘I’m friends with Sylvain and Jo, and I’ve met a few other people. Everybody’s been sort of nice except …’

She bit her lip, and Isabelle looked at her encouragingly. ‘Except who? It’s OK to tell me.’

‘Oh you know.’ Allie crossed and uncrossed her ankles. ‘Katie Gilmore? She’s a bit bitchy.’

Isabelle sighed. ‘I will be honest with you, Allie. Sometimes I think Katie is one of the trials I was put on this earth to deal with. She’s been spoiled her whole life – I fear I’m being very unprofessional telling you this, but I think I can trust you. Because of her childhood, she has a hard time interacting with students who are not as privileged as she is – she’s been too sheltered by her family’s wealth. However, she is not immune from punishment, no matter how powerful her parents, so if she goes too far tell Jules or me.’ Isabelle polished her glasses with a clean cloth. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing her working in the garden for a week. It would do her a world of good to get her hands dirty.’

Thrilled that the headmistress was being so honest with her, Allie giggled at the image then stopped herself. But Isabelle chuckled too so she knew it was OK.

‘Anything else aside from that?’ Isabelle grew serious again. ‘Your coursework is looking fine. You’re certainly doing very well in my class. Any problems academically?’

Allie shook her head. It was true the work was hard, but it was more interesting than the work at her last two schools and she found that, actually, she enjoyed it.

‘What about home life?’ Isabelle asked. ‘I’ve noticed that you haven’t asked to phone your parents since you arrived. Would you like to phone them? I’m happy for you to talk to them.’

Again Allie shook her head – more vigorously this time. ‘I don’t want to talk to them right now,’ she said, avoiding Isabelle’s eyes. ‘I want some time without them.’

When she glanced up, Isabelle’s expression was hard to read, but something told Allie she understood.

‘Of course,’ she said, adding, ‘but if you ever change your mind, come to me.’

The conversation had now skated onto thin ice for Allie, who fidgeted in her seat, hoping she’d soon be released.

Nothing escaped the headmistress’ attention and she stood up with another weary stretch.

‘Well, I suppose I should free you to have lunch and enjoy the rest of your weekend.’

Needing no more invitation, Allie leapt to her feet and headed for the door but Isabelle’s voice stopped her just as she was about to open it.

‘Please, Allie,’ she said, ‘don’t ever be afraid to come to me with any problem, however small or large. I am here to help you. I am absolutely not here to get you in trouble. You are safe with me.’

Her words seemed heartfelt and Allie smiled shyly. ‘I will,’ she said before hurrying out.

She could feel Isabelle’s knowing eyes following her down the hall.

‘Oh God. Please make the torture end.’ Jo fell face down onto her biology book.

Sitting across from her at the table in the library, Allie threw a pen at her.

‘Yep,’ Gabe said, closing his book, ‘we need a break. I’ve still got a bit more to do, but nobody’s saying I can’t do it later. It’s Saturday afternoon, it’s a beautiful day – who wants to go outside?’

Without raising her head from her book, Jo stuck her arm straight up in the air. ‘Me,’ she said, her voice muffled by biology.

‘Allie?’ he asked, stacking his books.

She shook her head. ‘I’ve had enough of the great outdoors today, thanks. I think I’ll explore the building.’

Jo’s head popped up; her blonde hair stood on end. ‘The building’s cool. Ask Eloise to show you the study chambers. They’re wicked.’

She seemed largely recovered from the night before; the cut on her cheek was closed with two flesh-coloured butterfly stitches, and there were no other visible wounds. Allie hadn’t yet had a chance to talk with her about what had happened – she was dying for a few minutes alone but Gabe had scarcely left Jo’s side all day. Now he stacked her books with his, and the two stood up to leave.

‘See you at dinner if not before?’ Allie asked hopefully.

‘Defo,’ Jo said, smiling.

When they were gone, Allie stretched and looked around. The room was mostly deserted.

She walked towards the librarian’s desk. Behind the high, polished wood counter Eloise was filing in an old-fashioned library card file.

‘Uh … hi?’ Allie’s voice was hesitant.

‘Oh Allie. How wonderful to see you again,’ Eloise said, straightening. ‘How are you?’

The librarian’s dark hair was pulled back in a loose style from which tendrils escaped; purple-framed glasses perched at the end of her slender nose.

‘I’m fine, thanks. I was studying, over there,’ Allie pointed in the general direction of her table, ‘and I just thought I’d come say hello.’

‘Are you here for those books I told you about?’ Eloise set the card file down. ‘I’ve set them aside for you.’

Reaching under the desk, she pulled out a stack of books with a card on top reading ‘For Allie’.

‘I believe it’s extra reading for your English class,’ Eloise explained.

Allie had already forgotten about the books the librarian had mentioned that morning and, frankly, she thought she had enough to read already.

But still …

‘Oh good,’ she said politely, putting the books in her bag. ‘But actually, I was just going to explore the building and Jo said there were some cool study rooms or something in here?’

Eloise looked blank for a minute, then brightened. ‘You must mean the carrels in the back. They’re quite something. Let me get the keys.’

She removed a crowded key ring from a hook behind the front counter. Allie followed her along what seemed like hundreds of years’ worth of Oriental rugs, and past endless rows of shelves.

‘This place is huge,’ she said, looking up to the ceiling.

‘Just be glad you don’t have to dust it,’ the librarian replied chirpily. ‘Mind you, if you get detention again you might get that chance.’

Allie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Please, no.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Eloise smiled. ‘If you’re good it’ll never happen.’

They turned a corner and the room changed slightly. There were fewer bookshelves in this section, and more tables and leather chairs.

‘This area is reserved for advanced students,’ Eloise explained, choosing a key from the ring in her hand.

‘Here we go.’ The walls were panelled with elaborately carved dark wood. Eloise inserted the key into a lock so skilfully hidden in the woodwork that Allie couldn’t see it at all, and a door that until then had been virtually invisible opened silently.

‘Wow,’ Allie said. ‘A secret door.’

‘Wow indeed.’ Eloise looked at her over the tops of her glasses. ‘These study rooms are in the oldest part of the building. We’re not at all certain what their original purpose was. But, well, take a look.’

She clicked a light switch and stepped back. Allie walked into an illuminated room about eight feet wide by six feet long. Inside the windowless space was a desk with a lamp, a leather chair and a small bookcase. Dominating it all was an elaborate mural covering the walls. Stepping into the centre of the room, Allie turned a slow circle to take it all in. The painting seemed to tell a story: men and women armed to the teeth and fighting in a field, overlooked by enraged cherubs under a stormy sky.

The scene was chilling, Allie thought.

‘How does anybody study in here?’ she asked. ‘I’d spend the whole time ducking for cover.’

‘It doesn’t seem to bother anyone.’ Eloise looked at the swinging swords, her eyes unreadable. ‘But I can’t say I disagree with you.’

She stepped out of the room. After a last glance around, Allie followed, and Eloise locked the door behind them.

‘Are they all like this?’

The librarian nodded. ‘They’re very similar. The paintings in each room tell a different part of the same story. This is the main battle painting. It seems to be the last in the series.’

She walked down to the end of the panelled wall and unlocked another hidden door. Turning on the light, she gestured for Allie to follow and they stepped into the small study room. This room’s paintings showed the same people, the men in hats and formal attire, then women in elaborate long dresses. They appeared to be talking in a circle, in front of what looked like a smaller version of the building she was in now.

‘We think this is the first in the series,’ Eloise said.

‘Is that Cimmeria?’ Allie asked.

‘Before the expansion,’ Eloise said. ‘The painting is of that time – early eighteenth century.’

‘What’s it all about?’ Allie asked. ‘Some kind of war?’

Eloise was studying one of the faces. ‘Nobody really knows any more. The school lore is that the building was originally built by a single family. Some kind of disagreement divided them, and they essentially went to war with one another – the winning side kept the school. But none of that is recorded in the school records, and let me tell you, if it was I would know. I’m the school historian.’

As they walked out of the room, Allie was lost in thought.

‘Weird,’ she said. ‘I mean, how could something so important just get lost?’

‘Things do,’ Eloise said. ‘Especially if nobody wants to remember it.’

‘I really do not want to study in those rooms,’ Allie said firmly.

‘Luckily, you’ve got another year before you’re advanced enough to sit back here.’ Eloise gave her a bright smile. ‘So you’re safe for now.’