Resistance (3 page)

But all she said as she dropped her hands was: ‘Be careful,
chère
Allie.’

‘I will,’ Allie promised. Then something occurred to her. ‘What about you, though? Nathaniel knows where you are. He knows you helped me.’

Mrs Cassel seemed touched by her concern. ‘We are well protected,’ she said gently. ‘Besides, it’s not us he wants, my dear.’

Her honesty was chilling but Allie was grateful for it nonetheless as she hurried after Rachel to the line of cars.

Sylvain lingered on the front steps. Through the open car door, Allie watched as he talked quietly to his mother. As always, it hurt a little to see anyone so close to their parents. She hadn’t spoken to her own parents in months. Phone calls were impossible while she was on the run. She knew Isabelle kept them informed about her. But it wasn’t easy to accept that they didn’t care enough to insist on speaking to her.

I wonder what it’s like to be liked by your own parents,
Allie thought. And then she pushed the thought away. It was easier not to think about them.

Mrs Cassel pulled Sylvain into a tight hug before finally letting him go. As he ran down the steps to the car, Allie saw her wipe a tear from her cheek with a quick brush of her fingers.

By the time Sylvain was seated and looking back at her, she’d composed her face. She waved at them with serenely. As if they were just normal kids, heading off to a normal school.

A guard closed the door of the SUV and Allie heard the
thunk
as all the doors locked automatically through the central system.

A thrill of excitement ran through her like electricity. Even if they’d changed their minds now it was too late.

They were going home.

‘
Y
ou have
to make your mind up, Allie.’ Jo sounded exasperated.

Allie turned to look at her in surprise. They sat beneath the spreading branches of the ancient yew tree in the church yard at Cimmeria. The setting sun had turned the sky a fiery red. It caught Jo’s short, blonde hair and tinged it pink.

The colours reminded Allie of something but she couldn’t place it.

‘About what?’ Allie asked.

‘Sylvain,’ Jo said. She leaned back against the tree trunk with a sigh. ‘I feel so guilty. Like it was my fault you got into this.’

‘Into what?’ Allie was perplexed. ‘I’m not in anything.’

‘You’re in a muddle,’ Jo said, and her familiar cut-glass accent made Allie smile. ‘You don’t know what you want.’

Allie flinched. That was what Sylvain had said to her before she left Cimmeria.

Jo wasn’t finished yet. ‘You have to choose the one you love.’

‘I
know
that.’ Frustration made Allie’s voice sharp.

Jo’s eyebrows went up and Allie raised her hands in an apologetic gesture.

‘Soz, Jo. It’s just … Let me try and explain.’

But how could she explain what she didn’t understand? That she cared for two boys and didn’t want to hurt either of them. That her relationships with both of them were loaded with the baggage of past mistakes.

That when your own family didn’t seem to love you it was hard to love anyone else.

‘I guess … I wouldn’t recognise true love if it walked up to me on the street and bit me on the leg. So how can I say I’m in love with Sylvain? Or I’m in love with Carter? I love them both. But I don’t know what “in love” even is.’

Jo reached over and took her hand. Her fingers felt like nothing against Allie’s skin. As insubstantial as a cloud.

‘I can only tell you what I know,’ Jo said. ‘Love is I care about you. I trust you. I understand you. I want you near me. In love …’ Jo looked wistful, her gaze fixed on some point far away, just beneath the red sky. ‘In love is: I would give up everything. Even myself. You, I can’t live without.’ She turned her wide blue eyes back to Allie; they were filled with tears that glistened like stars. ‘Do you understand?’

T
he bedroom door
flew open with a crash, flooding the room with light.

Startled, Allie scrambled back in bed, arms in front of her torso protectively.

Where am I?

‘It’s true. You’re really back.’ Zoe’s flat, familiar voice steadied her.

Squinting into the glare, she could see the girl’s small frame hovering in the doorway like a shadow.

Her gaze skittered around the room.

Desk, bookcase, whitewashed floor … Cimmeria. My bedroom. Home.

It all came to her in a rush. Zoe was right. She really was here.

‘Hi, Zoe,’ she said, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. ‘Long time no see.’

It had been after four in the morning when they’d finally reached the school. Allie had fallen asleep in the car, her head against Rachel’s shoulder. Sylvain woke them both when the car stopped at the end of the drive.

Everything had felt dreamlike. The damp and chilly English night. The Victorian, gothic school building towering over them. It was all darker than she’d remembered. More intimidating.

Groggy, she’d blinked up at the school, wondering why no lights were on at all. No teachers came out to greet them.

They’d stumbled up the steps to the front door, but, before they could open the door, a guard had opened it from inside.

Where did he come from?
Allie had wondered as the black-clad man stood back to let them pass.

They’d parted at the grand staircase, Sylvain heading to the boys’ dorm, she and Rachel to the girls’ rooms.

It was so quiet every footstep seemed to echo.

Even though it was the middle of the night, Allie couldn’t help but feel disappointed that Isabelle le Fanult, Cimmeria’s headmistress, hadn’t come to greet them after so long away.

But when she’d walked into her old bedroom she found that someone had made up the bed with crisp, fresh sheets and turned back the duvet. A set of pyjamas with the Cimmeria crest had been left on the pillow. The desk lamp cast a warm glow over it all.

It was all she’d had time to notice before weariness took over. Stripping off her travel clothes, more appropriate to a warm night in the south of France than a cool English summer, she’d fallen into bed.

‘You must have got back late,’ Zoe said now. ‘Isabelle told me to let you sleep but I had to see if it was true.’ She looked to one side as if trying to remember something she was supposed to say. Then it came to her. ‘Sorry.’

Zoe’s odd verbal cadence and her lack of social skills were so familiar Allie felt a rush of affection for her as warm as sunlight.

‘I don’t want to sleep,’ she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘What time is it?’

‘Nine,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s Saturday so there are no classes. You missed breakfast. There’s a meeting. Isabelle says you don’t have to be there.’ She paused blinking at Allie. ‘You should be there.’

Nine o’clock. She’d only slept a few hours. But she was wide awake now.

‘I have to get cleaned up,’ she said. ‘See you downstairs in ten minutes?’

‘Hurry,’ Zoe suggested, before flitting away like a bird.

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.

S
he 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.

‘
H
ow 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.’

After he let go, he took off his wire-framed glasses and polished them with a cloth, smiling in his usual distracted manner as the others took turns welcoming her.

As she smiled and made appropriate comments, Allie scanned the room for Carter. She couldn’t see him – but then, the teachers were all in the way.

‘Allie!’ An elfin girl with huge brown eyes and long, dark hair fought through the crowd to her side.

She pulled her close, strong arms tight around her neck. ‘Welcome back!’

‘Thanks, Nicole.’ Allie grinned. ‘It’s good to be back.’ She glanced down. ‘How’s your leg?’

‘All better.’ Nicole stood on one leg and bent the other, demonstrating its wellness. ‘Ready to fight.’

The last time Allie saw Nicole was the night Nathaniel attacked the school. Nicole’s leg had been broken in the melee.

‘I heard what happened in France.’ Nicole’s French accent thickened as she lowered her voice. ‘Thank God you’re OK. Sylvain is very good on the bike, no?’

Nicole had grown up with Sylvain; they were as close as siblings. So Allie wasn’t surprised she already knew the details.

At that moment, Sylvain walked across the classroom. Like her, he was back in his school uniform – gone were the elegantly loose shirts and chinos he’d worn in France. But he managed to look sexy anyway.

‘Yeah,’ Allie said, smiling at him. ‘He’s good on a bike.’

As he stepped up to join them, his eyes turquoise in the light, Allie thought of her dream. Jo’s voice. ‘
Make up your mind
.’

For just a second, her smile faltered. She wished Dream Jo would mind her own business.

In France, she and Sylvain had grown closer as friends but nothing else had happened, in part because they were so rarely alone. Surrounded by a constant coterie of guards, his parents, their staff and Rachel, there was no way even to talk about things that mattered.

Yesterday had been their first real time alone. And Nathaniel ruined it.

‘I thought Isabelle was going to let you sleep,’ Sylvain said. The way he said it made it seem oddly intimate – like he was somehow
involved
with her sleep.

Allie blushed.

‘Zoe …’ she said, trying to recover her cool. ‘She was my alarm clock.’

The way he arched one amused eyebrow made her think he knew why she’d blushed.

‘If someone was going to wake you up,’ he said, ‘I’d rather it was me.’

Allie’s blush deepened. She tried to think of a tart response but her brain wouldn’t cooperate.

Looking back and forth between them, Nicole’s lips curved up in a knowing smile. She’d been trying to get them together forever.

‘Take your seats. We need to get this meeting under way.’ Zelazny’s voice was like a glass of cold water thrown over their conversation.

The history teacher stood at the front of the room, glowering at them over his clipboard.

Allie was surprised to find she was almost happy to see him. She remembered how he’d stood in front of the school’s main door, overrun by Nathaniel’s guards, trying to keep order even as the guards dragged students away against their will. Until that moment she’d really thought Zelazny might be Nathaniel’s spy at the school. But when she’d seen how frightened he was – how furious – she’d decided it couldn’t be him.

As Zelazny continued to complain and bluster, the small crowd began to settle until Allie could finally see the rest of the room. She looked around again for any sign of Carter.

He wasn’t there.

She was trying to ignore the pang of disappointment she felt when she spotted a head of glossy, flame-coloured hair.

‘Wait,’ she said, leaning forward to get a better look. ‘Is that …
Katie Gilmore
?’