His voice was steady when he started again. ‘Mum was, I think, kind of like a mother to everybody. She’d make sandwiches for the kids if they got hungry after class. Make scones for the teachers’ meetings. She fussed over everybody.’ He stopped again for a long moment. ‘So yeah,’ he said finally. ‘I think they were happy.’
Allie could feel tears prickling the backs of her eyes. She rubbed her nose fiercely as if it itched.
I don’t want to do this.
‘Carter,’ she said quietly, ‘what happened?’
The silence between them was like a physical wall. She felt as if she could touch its cold edges. The muscles in his jaw worked, and his hands were twisted into a knot in his lap.
‘So,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘one day, my dad was sent out to collect some parts from a distributor in Portsmouth.’ His voice was strangely steady. ‘It was something he did all the time. This time, though, my mum wanted to go along too, you know? It was a sunny summer day. She thought we could have a day by the sea. So she made a big picnic, and they packed me into the back seat of the car and we all headed out. But …’
This time when he paused, Allie held her breath.
‘A lorry lost control on the motorway,’ he said, his eyes on some invisible point far away from her. ‘They say the driver fell asleep, came across the central divide and hit us.’ He flexed his fingers, then squeezed them into fists. ‘Everyone said they wouldn’t have felt a thing. It happened so fast.’
A tear slipped down Allie’s cheek. ‘What about you?’ she asked, striking it away. ‘Were you hurt?’
‘Bruises. A few scrapes.’ He sounded almost angry. ‘Nothing serious.’
‘That’s incredible.’ Allie allowed herself a moment of gladness that he’d survived. ‘What happened then? I mean … You were just a little kid.’
‘Bob Ellison and my parents were really close friends. They’d made him my godparent. He came to the hospital and got me. Neither of my parents had close family so I think it was all settled really quickly. I don’t really remember.’ He shrugged. ‘Guess nobody else wanted me. He moved into the cottage with me, and I lived there until I was old enough to move into the boys’ dorm.’
He met her eyes. ‘And here I am.’
Resisting the urge to wrap him in her arms and squeeze the pain out of him, Allie cleared her throat. ‘This is all so … huge, Carter,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t know this already.’
He arched a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Yeah well, it’s not something I go around telling people.’ He held out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Carter. My parents were killed in this awful car accident when I was little but I’m handling it remarkably well under the—’
‘Stop it, Carter.’ She interrupted him sharply. ‘That’s not fair. And it’s not real. I’m your girlfriend – not just “people”. And you can be real with me.’
‘I know,’ he looked chagrined. ‘I’m sorry, Al. I just don’t know how to … you know … say this stuff. It’s hard. Not talking about it makes me happier than talking about it. So I don’t talk about it.’
Spontaneously, she leaned over to hug him. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she whispered into his shoulder. ‘I know it was hard. And I’m so, so sorry.’
His arms were like bands of iron around her ribs. Behind her back, she could feel his hands clenched into fists.
They held each other like that for a long moment.
When he leaned back, he rubbed his eyes before straightening.
‘Right.’ His voice was gruff but he forced a half-smile. ‘This is really great so far.’
‘Just a few questions left,’ she said, flipping through her notebook. ‘Are you now or have you ever been sympathetic to Nathaniel? Do you want to destroy the school? Are you plotting against Isabelle?’
‘No. No. No,’ Carter said, stretching out his legs. ‘Anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Looking down at her list, Allie made a few quick notes. Then she noticed a question she’d forgotten to ask. ‘Oh, here’s one: Have you ever told Nathaniel’s people anything about me?’
Holding himself oddly still, Carter tilted his head to one side. ‘That’s a strange question.’
‘Yeah. Eloise wanted me to ask that one. No idea why.’
Busy writing notes, she didn’t really clock Carter’s hesitation, but when he replied, something about his tone caught her attention.
‘Not that I know of,’ he said.
She glanced up at him, her pen poised between her fingers. ‘What?’
‘I said “Not that I know of”,’ he said. ‘I haven’t told anybody in Nathaniel’s group anything as far as I know.’
She squinted at him, confused. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean “as far as you know”? How could you tell them about me without knowing it?’
‘Well, I talked to Gabe, didn’t I?’ He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. ‘And now he’s one of them.’
Allie felt her pulse accelerate. She kept her voice as calm as possible. ‘What did you tell Gabe about me?’
He shrugged. ‘You know … Stuff.’
‘Stuff.’ A tiny seed of suspicion flowered in her heart. ‘What kind of stuff?’
He shrugged. ‘You know … Guy stuff. Come on, Allie. He was my friend. We talked about stuff.’
Sitting up straight, she fixed him with a disbelieving look. ‘No, Carter, I don’t know. What kind of stuff about me did you discuss with Gabe?’
‘I don’t know.’ With a stubborn look, he crossed his arms across his chest. ‘He used to ask a lot of questions about you. I didn’t really think about it at the time. I just answered them, I guess.’
‘And you never mentioned this to me before?’ Her voice rose, and she paused to take a calming breath before continuing. ‘Did you tell Isabelle?’
‘No.’ Under questioning, he sounded increasingly defensive. ‘I guess I didn’t really think about it until now. Allie, would you mind not treating me like a murder suspect?’
‘OK,’ she said evenly, ‘I’m sorry. Can you remember any of the things he asked you?’
Exhaling loudly, he stood and walked across the room to where an ancient wall painting of a yew tree stretched up towards the ceiling. Its elaborately tangled roots spelled out the words ‘Tree of Life’. It was one of Allie’s favourite things in the 900-year-old chapel but right now she barely glanced at it.
‘He asked me,’ he said after a long pause, ‘about your family. Where you lived in London. Who your friends were there. You see?’ He looked over at her.
‘What did you tell him?’ she asked.
‘What I knew,’ he said, ‘which wasn’t a lot. South London. Some crummy school you hated. Some guy named Mark, and another one named Harry. That you didn’t get along with your parents.’
Allie was trying very hard not to feel betrayed. But it felt as if he’d told Gabe everything he knew about her life before Cimmeria.
I don’t know how to handle this.
She remembered something Eloise had said about keeping it like an interview.
‘Think like a reporter,’ she’d said in their one-to-one training session in the vividly painted library carrel. ‘What would a reporter ask if they were interviewing him? Keep your emotional distance and you’ll find it easier to separate what’s important from what isn’t.’
So now Allie tried to think of what she would ask if she wasn’t Carter’s girlfriend. ‘Was there anything he asked that you thought was especially strange? Anything that weirded you out a little?’
Walking to the altar, Carter turned so his back was to her. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. When he spoke, his voice was so low she wasn’t certain she’d heard him right.
‘He asked about your brother.’
‘What?’ A tingle of electricity ran through her fingertips. ‘Did you say he asked about Christopher?’
His back still to her he nodded. ‘And the thing I couldn’t figure out was …’ he turned so she
could see the worry in his eyes, ‘… how did he know you had a brother in the first place? You never told anybody about him. And even if he did know, why did he care? He asked me about him a lot.’
Suddenly the room felt colder. Allie swallowed hard. ‘Maybe Jo told him?’ she suggested hopefully, drawing the scarf closer to her neck. ‘I told her about Christopher, and she was Gabe’s girlfriend at the time. What did he ask about specifically?’
Carter walked closer to her, his footsteps echoing in the empty chapel. The sun must have dipped low outside, because the glow from the stained glass windows had disappeared. The room suddenly seemed gloomy; dancing shadows cast by the candles jerked nervously on the white walls.
‘How close you two were. Whether or not you talked about finding him.’ He stood in front of her, his dark eyes filled with concern. ‘Once he asked if you’d ever mentioned looking for him. And where you might go if you did.’
Allie wrapped her arms tight around her torso.
‘That’s so creepy,’ she said, her voice low. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘No,’ he said, and the candlelight flickered in his eyes. ‘Me neither.’
FIFTEEN
All that night, Allie went through the paces of normal Cimmeria life. But in her head her thoughts swirled in a tornado of worry. Everything seemed all tangled up and horrible. Carter and Gabe, the spy among them, Nathaniel … Somehow she had to figure it out. Why had Gabe asked Carter those things? What was he hoping to learn?
The one person she thought would understand – the one person who would know what she should do – was Rachel. And she couldn’t tell her. In fact, she couldn’t tell anyone at all.
Except …
She could tell Isabelle. But if she did that, what would happen? Would Carter get into trouble? She couldn’t bear it if she was the reason Isabelle lost faith in Carter – she was the closest he came to having a mother on this earth.
Her thoughts tormented her. She couldn’t focus on her studies. She couldn’t focus on anything.
After dinner, as the other students settled into their normal routine of studying in the library or playing games in the common room as the rain continued to fall outside, she paced the wide hallway near Isabelle’s office. Her footsteps were soft and rubbery on the polished oak floor as she walked from the common room to Isabelle’s office and back again, over and over.
What he said wasn’t that big a deal. We know Gabe was with Nathaniel and we know Nathaniel has a thing about me. So I don’t see why it matters so much.
Turning, she paced the other way.
But what if it did matter? Isabelle said she wanted any information about Gabe that might help them understand when he joined with Nathaniel and why.
And again.
‘You’ll wear a hole in the floor.’
Standing at the foot of the main staircase, Sylvain stood watching her. She had no idea how long he’d been there – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked up.
Even in his school uniform blue sweater and trousers, he managed to look sophisticated. He’d pushed the sleeves up to the elbows, and the sweater looked as if it had been tailored just for him.
As she fumbled for a response he added, ‘And then the builders will have to come back with all of their equipment and rebuild it, and everyone will blame you.’
Allie’s eyebrow arched. ‘Your pessimism … Is that a French thing?’
‘Not pessimism,’ he said. ‘Pragmatism. It is a French word, you know. Pragmatisme.’
‘Isn’t pessimism a French word, too?’
‘Yes.’ His shrug was eloquent. ‘But then, all the best words are French.’
She smiled, despite herself.
He tilted his head to one side, his expression open. ‘So tell me, Allie. Why do you pace the floor like a prisoner? Are you working something out in your head?’
His eyes held such open curiosity and concern she had to fight off the urge to tell him everything.
I trust him again. When did that happen?
All this term he’d been nothing but thoughtful and kind. And heaven knew she needed help now.
‘There’s a thing.’ She rubbed the toe of one of her sturdy school-issued loafers against the other. ‘I’ve got to decide what to do. And whatever I do, I think it could be misunderstood by someone I care about. It might hurt him … or her,’ she added hastily. ‘So, I guess what I’m deciding is … which misunderstanding would be best.’
‘Ah.’ He leaned against the wall. ‘That is the worst kind of problem, I think. The kind where there is no right answer. Only two wrong ones.’
‘Exactly! So then how do you decide?’
‘I suppose you trust your instincts.’
‘Trust my instincts?’ she scoffed. ‘Nightmare.’
He studied her thoughtfully. ‘I think, Allie, you make the right choice more often than you know.’
She started to make a joke, but then realised he was serious and the words died on her lips. For a long moment she stood still, staring at him without seeing him. ‘I have to go and to talk to Isabelle.’
Without another word, she turned to walk away, intent on seeing the headmistress as quickly as possible. Then, just as quickly, she spun back towards him. He hadn’t moved – he was watching her with such an affectionate smile, it threw her off-kilter.
‘Sorry,’ she said, flustered. ‘I shouldn’t walk off without saying goodbye. That’s rude. And … We’re still doing our thing tomorrow, right?’
‘Yes.’ She could see the amusement in his eyes. ‘We will do the interview after dinner.’
‘Cool.’
Light on her feet, she dashed under the staircase to Isabelle’s door. Knocking, she turned the handle without waiting to be invited in; it sprang open at her touch. The room was empty. But the headmistress must have just stepped out – the light was on and the warm room smelled of her Earl Grey tea.
As Allie waited, her eyes moved from the tapestry of a maiden and a knight with a white horse to the neat, low cabinets where the student records were kept. Though she tried not to think about it, her mind kept returning to the night when she and Carter had broken in to search for information.
At the thought, she twisted the hem of her jumper nervously.
‘Oh, hello, Allie.’ Isabelle breezed in, a pale blue pashmina loose around her neck. Her crisp white polo neck top and black pencil skirt were balanced by a pair of sensible, rubber-soled shoes. After setting a file down on her desk, she looked up with an enquiring smile. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘There’s something I need to ask you,’ Allie said. ‘Something kind of weird.’
Shutting the door, Isabelle gestured to the leather chairs in front of her desk. As Allie sank into one, the headmistress sat in the other.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘what is this weird thing? And does it require tea?’
Shaking her head, Allie talked quickly, explained what Carter had told her about Gabe. As she spoke, she watched Isabelle’s cheerful expression fade.
‘Why didn’t Carter ever tell us about this before?’ she asked, when Allie finished. ‘Did he explain that?’
Allie thought she sounded wounded.
‘I don’t know. He said he didn’t really think about it.’ Hurriedly, she added, ‘Because … There was a lot to think about at the time. A lot happened. He kind of thought it didn’t matter any more once we all knew Gabe was with Nathaniel.’
‘I don’t know why he would have thought that,’ Isabelle said shortly. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
Allie didn’t know either but she couldn’t say that. Worry made her stomach churn, and she started to explain more but the headmistress cut her off. ‘Please don’t worry, Allie. I understand completely. I was just thinking aloud. I’ll speak with Carter myself to find out if there’s anything else he might be able to tell us.’
Allie’s mouth went dry. ‘Don’t be angry with him. I feel strange about telling you this stuff. But I didn’t … I mean, I
just thought you should know because it’s information about Gabe.’ She leaned forward in her seat. ‘You know Carter’s not working for Nathaniel, right? I mean, he’s not the one?’
Isabelle held her gaze. ‘I do not believe for one second that Carter would intentionally betray us to Nathaniel.’
Intentionally?
As she tried to figure out what the headmistress was really saying, Allie’s panic grew.
What have I done?
‘Thank you for telling me,’ Isabelle said, ushering her out. ‘You did the right thing.’
But as Allie headed up the stairs to her room a short while later, she didn’t believe her. She was completely lost under a heavy shroud of worry when a hand grasped her arm. With a startled squeak, she wrenched her arm free, only to hear a familiar deep chuckle.
‘Sorry, did I scare you?’
Carter stood on the step just below her, that sexy half-smile she so loved curving his lips as he reached out for her hand again.
Oh balls.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Just surprised me.’
‘I’ve been looking for you all evening,’ he said, lacing his fingers through hers. She wondered if he’d notice her palms were sweating. ‘Where’ve you been?’
Allie thought carefully before answering. ‘Oh, I was studying and then I kind of went for a walk, chatted with Isabelle, you know …’
‘Oh yeah?’ His expression didn’t change. ‘What were you chatting about?’
The sounds around them – students talking, feet thumping on steps, laughter – seemed to fade into the distance. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t bear to see the look on his face – the hurt and betrayal.
‘Nothing,’ she said, blood like ice water in her veins. ‘I’m behind with my maths work and I was hoping she could buy me some time.’
‘Tsk.’ He waved a chiding finger. ‘Behind on your work, Miss Sheridan? I’ll bet she didn’t like that.’
‘Yeah.’ Allie could hear the falseness in her own brittle laugh. ‘She told me to catch up. Fast. Without her help.’
Night School: Legacy Page 15