Allie felt her heart sink. She hadn’t thought about sitting at meals with both Carter and Sylvain.
This is going to be weird.
But Jo saved the day, sinking into the seat next to Sylvain. ‘Help me, Sylvain,’ she said piteously. ‘I hurt.’
‘What happened?’ Rachel appeared, pulling out the chair next to Allie’s. ‘Why does Jo hurt?’
‘We worked ourselves into a coma,’ Allie explained.
‘Tell me about it. I’ve loved books all my life but why does this school need so many?’ Rachel groaned, stretching. ‘How much learning do we really need?’
‘Can we go back to your house?’ Allie asked. ‘It was nicer there.’
‘You are all infants.’ Carter sounded exasperated. ‘I’ve moved furniture all day. All you did was wash walls and pick up books.’
‘Whatever,’ the girls chorused.
As if on cue, the doors at the end of the room opened, and staff appeared carrying trays of food. Steaming bowls of pasta were placed at every table.
‘Oh good,’ Carter muttered sarcastically. ‘Pasta again.’
‘Awesome.’ Jo brightened. ‘Is it the cheesy kind?’
‘Why did you say “again”?’ Allie asked as bowls of food were set on the table.
‘We’ve had it almost every day.’ Carter lowered his voice as the waiters passed. ‘Cooks are too busy helping out with repairs to do much else.’
‘Did everybody hear about Lisa?’ Jo changed the subject, as bowls of food were passed around the table and a low buzz of quiet conversation filled the room.
‘What about her?’ Allie asked as she served herself from a heaped bowl.
‘She’s not coming back.’
Allie dropped the serving spoon with a bang.
‘What?’ Everybody seemed to say the same word at once. Then they talked over one another. ‘Why not?’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Is she OK?’
Jo held up a hand for quiet. ‘Her parents decided, after all that happened last term …’ She shrugged. ‘She wants to come back but they’ve forbidden it. They’re sending her to some school in Switzerland.’
A stunned silence followed.
‘Well, I can’t say I completely blame them.’ Rachel’s expression was sober. ‘I doubt she’ll be the only one who doesn’t come back.’
‘Maybe next year they’ll let her come back– it’s our last year,’ Jo said.
‘You mean,’ Rachel’s tone was wry, ‘if nobody gets killed this term maybe they’ll let her come back?’
‘Basically,’ Jo said.
A long, awkward silence fell, then Allie held up her water glass.
‘Here’s to Lisa. And nobody getting killed.’
The others raised their glasses, too.
‘To Lisa,’ they chorused.
‘And not dying,’ Jo said.
At the end of the meal Carter caught Allie’s eye when nobody was looking and tilted his head towards the door. Something in his expression made tingles of anticipation dance in her stomach. But they’d only made it halfway across the dining hall when Isabelle intercepted them.
‘Oh, Allie, good. I was looking for you. Shall we have that chat now?’
Allie met Carter’s gaze for one desperate second before hurrying after her.
Isabelle’s office was just beyond the main staircase, its door so smoothly integrated into the polished oak panelling it was hard to see if you didn’t know it was there. As Allie dropped down into one of the two leather chairs in front of her desk, Isabelle switched on the kettle in the corner. As she busied herself making tea, Allie noticed that the normally neat and elegant office was dishevelled. Papers were stacked high on every surface, file cabinet drawers were half open and a cardigan had been tossed on to an empty chair atop an open briefcase.
A frown creased her brow but before she could say anything, Isabelle pressed a steaming mug into her hands, cleared the mess of papers from the chair next to her and dropped into it with a tired sigh. Up close, Allie could see dark circles under her golden brown eyes – she looked thinner. But her demeanour was as soothing as ever as she lifted the glasses off the top of her head and set them down on the table beside her.
Allie expected her to start by talking about what had happened that night in London – they’d already discussed it briefly on the phone but she was sure Isabelle would have more information for her now. So the headmistress’ first words took her by surprise.
‘So, tell me. While you were home, did you have a chance to talk with your mother about Lucinda?’ Isabelle’s tone was brisk, almost businesslike.
‘Yes.’ Allie held her gaze. ‘And now I know.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
It had only been a week ago but it felt much longer since she’d sat down with her mother at home in London and demanded an explanation. For everything.
‘I told her you said she had to tell me.’
Isabelle watched her closely. ‘And what did she say?’
Allie remembered the way her mother’s lips had tightened, and the sad look on her face, when Allie said: ‘This Lucinda person … She’s my grandmother, isn’t she?’
For a fleeting second she’d thought her mother would lie, and if she had she would never have forgiven her. But after a second her shoulders had drooped. ‘I always knew you’d find out someday. Especially after you went to Cimmeria. Yes, Allie, Lucinda is my mother – your grandmother.’