‘Now it’s worth pointing out that this poem could well be a he writing about another he, but for the sake of conversation we can discuss it in more conventional terms. So why would he think that’s better?’ Isabelle mused, strolling across the room to lean against an empty desk. ‘She might feel the same way, but if he doesn’t ask he’ll never know.’
‘He’s afraid of being hurt,’ Allie whispered, adding another swirling circle to the chain she’d created.
Isabelle looked from her to Carter curiously.
‘That would explain it,’ she said. ‘Now, speaking of being hurt, I have another poem for you in a somewhat different vein by the American writer Dorothy Parker …’
The rest of the class seemed to take for ever. The minute it was over, Allie was up from her desk and heading for the door with her head down, determined not to make eye contact with anyone.
Especially Carter.
She was the first one to the stairs and her feet pounded on the stair boards as she hurried up, counting to herself.
… thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three …
Inside the sanctuary of her own room, she closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it staring at the neat familiarity of the space.
What just happened? Was Carter trying to tell me he fancies me? Or am I reading into it? Is Sylvain right?
She was so tired, she didn’t trust herself to think about serious things right now. And the bed she hadn’t slept in last night seemed to call to her. Dropping her book bag on the floor, she set the alarm for six, and pulled the shutter to, closing out the dazzling sunlight. She paused only long enough to kick off her shoes before climbing into bed fully clothed. It felt wonderful to be alone, and in the cool darkness she wondered once more about Carter, before forgetting about everything and falling asleep.
FIFTEEN
When Allie arrived at Jo’s room at half past six, Jo and Lisa had already draped the room in dresses and cluttered it with shoes. Allie was feeling much better – more normal. Somehow, sleep had settled her. Whatever might happen tomorrow, tonight she was going to have a good time. Just enjoy the dance. So last night had happened. So what? She’d been through worse. She didn’t care what anybody thought before she came to Cimmeria, and she wasn’t going to start caring now.
Lisa, who was going to the dance with Lucas (‘just as friends, you know?’) was flushed with excitement. ‘I just think it’s the perfect dress.’
Her excitement was contagious and Allie instantly felt more positive about everything. ‘It’ll be beautiful, I’m sure of it.’
‘Frankly, it’ll be great just to spend some time with Gabe.’ Jo sighed. ‘I’ve hardly seen him in days.’
‘Any clue as to what’s going on?’ Allie asked, hanging her silky white dress on the wardrobe door.
Jo shook her head. ‘Not a peep. Just “working on the project …”’ She deepened her voice and made it mildly defensive, which sounded so much like Gabe that Lisa and Allie giggled.
‘Yeah, Sylvain is more like, “Eet ees amporTANT wot we are doEENG”,’ Allie said, and they all collapsed in giggles again.
A silver tray of sandwiches cut into triangular quarters dominated Jo’s desk, along with jugs of juice. Jo insisted that they all must eat something before leaving the room. (‘Last year I nearly fainted at the ball because I was too excited to eat all day.’) Slim as a daisy stem, Lisa nibbled delicately at the edge of a cucumber sandwich before setting it down on a napkin. Jo shot her a warning look.
‘Eat it, Lisa.’
‘But I’m not hungry …’ Lisa said, pushing the sandwich away.
Allie, who had skipped lunch to sleep, grabbed a cheese sandwich and took a huge bite. ‘Oh my God, how can you not be hungry? I’m starving. To death.’
Lisa, still undecided about how to wear her hair and beginning to panic, wordlessly held up a magazine, which was opened to a picture of blonde starlet with an elaborate up-do.
‘I wish you’d just let me work my magic and stop worrying about it,’ Jo said. ‘I can do better than that. In fact, Allie, I’m going to do your hair right now. I have a feeling Lisa’s will take for ever.’
Allie stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth. ‘Mmph,’ she said agreeably as she climbed into the chair.
‘Exactly.’ Jo brushed her hair and then began twisting it gently with the ribbon.
‘I love having my hair done,’ Allie said, closing her eyes. ‘It’s like having a head massage.’
‘If this whole expensive education thing doesn’t pan out for me I’m definitely opening a salon in Mayfair in London,’ Jo deftly twisted a lock up and pinned it into place. ‘I’ll call it MayHair.’
Allie laughed up at her. ‘You’ve really thought about this. Well, fine then. If your expensive education doesn’t take, I’ll be your first customer.’
As Jo predicted, getting ready took for ever. Lisa’s hair alone took ages. In the end, and after much disagreement, she had it twisted into a simple chignon that made the most of her long, slender neck.
‘It’s perfect.’ Lisa smiled at herself in the mirror. ‘Jo, you’re a genius.’
‘I know,’ Jo said, smoothing her own hair into a flattering gamine style. ‘But guess what time it is.’
Allie looked at her watch and groaned. ‘Step it up, ladies, we’ve only got ten minutes.’
They grabbed their dresses.
‘I knew this would happen,’ Jo said, slipping her silver minidress over her head. Allie zipped up the back for her.
‘Yes you did. For all the good it did us.’
While Allie pulled on the long white dress, Jo slipped on her strappy sandals and turned around to help.
Allie gazed at her admiringly. ‘You look like a film star.’
‘Darling, I might, but you look like a princess in a fairy tale.’
Lisa wore a silvery blue silk dress with delicate straps and a matching silk wrap she draped loosely across her back. When she finally pulled her shoes on, Jo and Allie applauded their sardonic approval.
‘You look gorgeous, but good lord it takes you for ever to get ready,’ Jo said.
Lisa picked up her clutch bag and smiled without rancour. ‘Everybody says that.’
‘Wait! Nobody gets out of this room until I’ve taken a picture.’ Jo waved a small camera at them.
She pulled Allie and Jo over to the full-length mirror, and they squeezed close together, giggling. When they were all reflected, Jo held up her camera and snapped the picture.
‘Perfect,’ she said checking the image. ‘We look amazing.’
‘We’ll probably never look this good again,’ Lisa said sombrely. Allie and Jo stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing.
‘You’re impossible, gloomy guts,’ Jo said hugging her. ‘Don’t make me mess your hair up.’
They walked out the door together at eight o’clock on the dot. When they reached the top of the stairs, a noisy crowd of boys had gathered at the foot of the staircase, all clad in white tie.
The girls stood still for just a second as the crowd looked up at them and fell silent. To Allie the moment felt unreal – dreamlike. She’d freaked out and nearly drowned naked in a pond last night and yet here she was only hours later, in a beautiful dress, with good friends. It felt like she was living someone else’s life.
Sylvain, Lucas and Gabe stood in the crowd below, although there was no sign of Carter.
She stood straight and sucked her stomach in. Jo caught her eye and gave her a wink, then held out her hand. Allie took it, and then reached out to Lisa with her other hand. They walked down the stairs together in a butterfly’s fluttering of silk.
Focused on not losing her balance in Jo’s borrowed kitten heels, Allie kept her eyes on the steps ahead. When she glanced up, Sylvain was in front of her, smiling. She dropped Jo’s hand.
Sylvain admired her openly as he lifted her hand, kissed it, and placed it on his arm. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
She saw warmth and desire in his eyes. Her stomach fluttered.
Raising her chin she smiled up at him. ‘So do you.’ And he did. He belonged in that dark, perfectly tailored suit. Its fit emphasised his muscular shoulders and chest. He smiled his perfect smile.
She felt a sudden flash of doubt. Is this the right thing to do? Is Carter telling the truth?
As if the thought showed on her face, Sylvain brushed his fingers lightly across her brow smoothing an invisible hair. ‘I can’t wait to dance with you. Let’s go in.’ His voice was so reassuring, and his moves so sure, she squared her shoulders and walked in with him.
As they joined the stream of beautifully dressed students flowing into the great hall, staff in tuxedos stood by the doors holding trays of tall champagne flutes. They each took a glass as they walked in.
Inside Allie expected to find a disco. Instead, an elegantly anachronistic scene unfurled in front of her. A small orchestra had set up in one corner where it played a waltz. Everywhere candles sparkled on tables, in the chandeliers, in wall sconces, in the fireplace. Vases filled with white flowers topped every surface. The tables were covered in white linen, and the chairs were draped with white silk ribbons. The scent of jasmine floated on the breeze.
Isabelle appeared in a flowing white chiffon gown cinched at the waist with a gold rope belt. Allie glanced down at her own dress and thought that, compared to Isabelle, she looked like a little girl. She reached out and tugged Jo’s hand to get her attention and nodded in Isabelle’s direction.
Jo smiled knowingly. ‘What can we do? Our headmistress is hot.’
Gabe led them to a table in a corner, and they stood around it for a moment a bit awkwardly.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Allie whispered to Jo.
‘You’ll see.’
After a moment, Isabelle tapped a silver spoon against a champagne flute, and the room fell silent.
‘Welcome to the 223rd Cimmeria Summer Ball.’
Everybody clapped enthusiastically, and she waited for the applause to quieten.
‘Every year, this is a very special occasion when we gather to celebrate the school, its history, and all of you; for you are Cimmeria’s future. Many of your parents attended this ball years ago, and many of your grandparents and great-grandparents before that. You stand now where they stood then. Young and hopeful as they were. You are now part of the circle. Unbroken.’
She raised her glass. ‘To the summer ball. And Cimmeria Academy.’
‘To the summer ball,’ they chorused. ‘And Cimmeria Academy.’
‘Enjoy!’ she called out, laughing at their raucous applause.
When Sylvain pulled a seat out for her she was surprised by his formality, but then she noticed Gabe and Lucas had pulled out Jo and Lisa’s seats as well.
Tradition, I guess.
Allie, who had only ever had small sips of champagne at Christmas, thought it tasted a bit like the cider she used to drink with Mark and Harry. She stopped and stared at the glass. How long has it been since I thought about Mark and Harry?
She wondered what they were doing. If they were still getting into trouble. Whatever they were doing, she thought, looking around the room, it isn’t anything like this.
She raised her glass again. The second sip of champagne was better.
At that moment the orchestra began playing an extraordinary song. It sounded exotic, but Allie couldn’t place it. Hungarian? Turkish? As soon as it started she could feel the excitement in the air – it was electric. A few couples began dancing in a complex pattern that seemed to involve circles within circles. It was dizzying to watch and after a moment she turned away, feeling light-headed.
‘It’s a traditional Cimmeria song.’ Sylvain had been watching her. ‘It was written for the school itself a long time ago by an Egyptian composer who went to school here.’
‘I’ve never heard anything like it,’ Allie said.
She would have asked for more information, but at that moment waiters walked by with trays of hors d’oeuvres, and Gabe, Sylvain and Lucas all took several. Jo and Allie each took one, but Lisa waved the tray away. Jo frowned at her and Lisa shrugged innocently.
‘Everything is so beautiful,’ Allie said, biting a fried prawn.
‘They’ve been working on it since yesterday morning,’ Jo said. ‘I could hear them in here hammering away this morning too.’
‘It’s all perfect,’ Sylvain said, smiling at Allie. ‘I think we should definitely dance. But you must finish your champagne first.’
Obediently, Allie took another sip, wrinkling her nose at the pleasant feeling of the bubbles in her nose. ‘It really grows on you, champagne,’ she murmured half to herself. The others laughed at her.
‘Yes,’ Gabe said cheerfully. ‘Champagne definitely grows on you.’
‘Don’t drink it too fast,’ Jo cautioned, shooting Sylvain a warning look.
Allie dismissed her with a smile. ‘Remember, Mum, I used to drink quite a bit.’
Jo didn’t look placated. ‘Cimmeria champagne is pretty strong, Allie.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Sylvain said. Standing up, he held out his hand. ‘May I have this dance?’
She tingled at his touch. ‘I have no idea how to dance to this music, Sylvain. I predict humiliation if we do this.’
‘Oh, I don’t think it will come to that.’
His face was so confident she almost believed him. They walked to the edge of the dance floor where the couples were still swirling in their intricate circles. They moved with impressive speed and practised perfection and Allie watched them in awe. She saw Isabelle moving gracefully in the arms of a handsome, dark-haired man she’d never seen before. She was incredibly elegant, and Allie sighed enviously.
‘How do they all know how to dance like this?’
‘Most of us have had dance lessons since we were children.’
‘How weird that people still do that.’
‘Is it?’ He pulled her into his arms and lifted her chin so that she looked into his bluer than blue eyes. Then he held her tightly, his right hand in the small of her back pulling her close to his chest, her right hand in his left. ‘It seems strange to me that anybody wouldn’t do that. Tonight I will teach you one dance, a simple one. Just follow me. We’ll start very slow. It’s left right left left right. Like this.’
He demonstrated, and she followed carefully. At first she looked down at her feet and stepped on his toes, but then he lifted her chin with his index finger so that her eyes met his.
‘Don’t ever look down. Just watch my eyes, they will tell you where to go next. And it’s left right left left right, over and over again. Ready?’
‘No.’
He laughed, and twirled her out onto the dance floor.
‘Left right left left right … Left right left left right …’ Allie murmured the directions under her breath as she moved, but kept her eyes on his face. They twirled three slow circles without a mistake. Then four. Five!
Allie couldn’t believe it.
‘How are you doing this?’ she laughed incredulously. ‘Seriously, Sylvain, I don’t know how to dance.’
He held her eyes with his, rising and falling with the steps. ‘We can do it because you’re trusting me. I’m leading. You’re following. It’s very simple.’ He smiled. ‘Also, we’re moving very, very slowly …’
As they spun and she gained confidence, he gradually increased their speed until they were moving seamlessly around the floor.
When she was moving with confidence, he lightly kissed her neck just below her ear. All of her senses tingled. He whispered, ‘You look so lovely tonight, Allie. Thank you for coming with me.’
She felt the blood rush to her face, and her body responded to him as he pulled her closer. All the while they spun in a smooth and constant series of circles. Allie was growing dizzy – the rest of the room was a watercolour blur. She and Sylvain were completely alone.
‘This is incredible,’ she whisper
ed.
After what felt like only a few minutes, the circles led them to the edge of the dance floor, and he guided her back to the table, his arm tight around her waist.
Allie’s head spun, and she held onto him for support. ‘I feel dizzy.’
‘It’s the dancing. You’re not used to it.’
She looked back at the dance floor and watched the dancers spin. A few of the couples were less than perfect in their moves and the others swirled past them, like water flowing around stones.
With one hand, Sylvain lifted two glasses off a passing tray. ‘What you need is more champagne.’
Allie accepted the glass he passed her with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you. I’m so thirsty.’ The wine was cold and refreshing, and she gulped it down. ‘You know, I’m starting to really like champagne.’
His chuckle was warm, and he was so close to her she could feel it in her own body. ‘So you’ve said.’
Allie looked for Jo in the crowd of dancers. Her very short dress made her easy to spot – it was definitely the tiniest dress in the room. She and Gabe were twirling around the dance floor with assurance. She saw Lisa’s dress swirling a short distance away as she and Lucas spun easy circles.
She barely noticed when Sylvain took the empty glass from her hand and replaced it with a full one.
Looking around the room, she saw Ruth and Phil walking towards the dance floor holding hands – Ruth wore a pretty pale pink silk dress that showed off her athletic figure. Nearby Jerry sat talking comfortably with Eloise from the library; she was in a sexy little black dress with a low back, and her long hair was loose.
‘She’s not very old at all,’ Allie said, surprised.
‘Who?’
‘Eloise. I always thought she was old. Or at least, you know, older.’
Sylvain smiled. ‘Yes, I think she wants people to think she’s older. If they knew she was so young, nobody would take her seriously. She was at school here six years ago.’ He gave the librarian an appraising glance. ‘Very sexy, Eloise.’
Night School Page 17