‘No worries – see you later.’
Carter was waiting for her outside the door, leaning against the wall out of the crowds of students filling the hallway.
‘Hey,’ she said, her heart heavy.
‘Hey back.’ His dark eyes held hers just long enough for her to see the worry there.
‘So … Shall we meet there?’ he asked, as they joined the throng of students surging from the classroom wing through a heavy wooden door into the main school building.
‘Sounds good,’ she said, with a tentative smile.
Pulling her close, he gave her a reassuring kiss before loping off towards the stairs to the boys’ dorm to drop off his things.
Her tennis headache had been mostly gone by morning, although the purple-tinged bruise on her temple was still sensitive to touch.
In her room, she changed from a skirt to trousers. After pausing at the mirror to check her hair, she grabbed her jacket and turned to go, but something stopped her. Draped over the back of her chair was a wool scarf in dark blue. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it – the fabric was finely knitted wool, soft as a hug.
Where did that come from?
Running the scarf through her fingers, Allie decided Isabelle must have heard about what had happened last night from the nurse. It wasn’t that unusual for things students needed to just appear in their rooms. Like the slippers that appeared the first night she’d arrived at Cimmeria. And the fresh towels and clean sheets that showed up every few days.
After a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped the new scarf loosely around her throat and looked at herself in the mirror by the door. She was pale – nerves probably – and set against the dark scarf her skin looked like porcelain. Her dark, wavy hair had grown long – she hadn’t cut it since last spring and now it hung down to her shoulder blades. Sweeping berry-red gloss on her lips she threw her book bag over her shoulder and headed out.
As much as she dreaded it, she was glad they were doing it now rather than waiting – she just wanted it all over with.
For her part, she still hadn’t decided how much to reveal to Sylvain.
Should I tell him about Lucinda? And who I really am? Do I have a choice? Lying would get her expelled. But if she told Sylvain, she’d have to trust him with her whole life’s story. With secrets only Carter knew. And with some secrets nobody knew.
On the ground floor, she made her way along the wide hallway, threading through the busy afternoon crowd of students heading to the library and common room, their feet pounding on the polished wood. In the entry hall the wood floors gave way to stone, large tapestries covered the old stone walls and the crowds thinned.
Grabbing the iron door handle, Allie pulled the heavy front door open. Cool air flooded in, redolent of the rain that had fallen that morning. She stepped out on to the wet stone steps as the door closed behind her with a solid thud.
As she crossed the sprawling lawn, her shoes squelching in the mud, she could hear the shouts of students playing football in the distance. Two breathless boys returning from a run said hello as they passed her heading the other way – she recognised them from Night School. This was nothing like the quiet of the summer term – these days the grounds buzzed with activity until curfew. But still, even now, the world hushed when she entered the woods. Walking along the familiar footpath – mostly dry, thanks to the canopy of trees – she noticed the ferns beside the path were already dying from the autumnal cold. There was little breeze to stir the branches today, so the trees stood silent around her. It was just after three o’clock, but already the sunlight was beginning fade; Allie hastened her steps, breaking into a jog as she made her way down the path towards the chapel. She ran so much for Night School these days she rarely ran for fun any more. Even now her steps felt mechanical, unsatisfying.
When she reached the old limestone wall, she followed it to the arched gateway that opened on to a peaceful churchyard. In the watery light, the old tombstones looked disconsolate amid the thinning autumn grass. With the trees denuded of their leaves, the graveyard lost the sun-dappled charm it held in the summer months – now it just felt spooky.
Out of instinct she crossed to the gnarled yew tree where she and Carter had met often over the summer but it was empty; its bark slippery and darkened by the rain.
She headed back to the chapel, where the ancient arched door was so heavy she needed both hands to pull it open. It creaked ominously as it swung outward.
Inside it was colder – the air smelled of incense and wood polish. Stained glass windows gave the daylight a lavender hue. As always, the elaborate medieval wall paintings drew her eyes to their depictions of suffering sinners in hell being jabbed by demons with pitchforks, and dragons soaring upwards. And above the door the painted phrase Exitus acta probat, ‘The result validates the deed.’
Carter stood in front of the altar lighting the candles in an iron candelabra that stood taller than his head.
‘Hey,’ he said without turning around.
‘Hey back,’ Allie said, shivering as she closed the door behind her. With stone floors and walls, the unheated chapel felt colder than the outside. ‘I thought we weren’t allowed to play with fire any more.’
‘The lights aren’t working.’ The match burned down towards his fingertips and he cursed as he shook it out. He sucked his fingertips to cool them before lighting a fresh one. ‘And it’s going to be dark before too long so I thought I better make us some light.’