Night School Read online

  Jo reached for her arm. ‘Allie, Jesus! That’s horrible. What happened? Did he …’

  ‘Die? Who knows? We’ve never heard from him again.’

  ‘I don’t understand. What happened?’

  Allie’s voice was calmer now and steady. ‘See, Christopher and I, we were super-close. He was like my best friend my whole life. Other kids fought, but we never did. We hung out together all the time. He’s two years older than me, but he was always completely patient with me. He just didn’t get tired of me the way some older brothers get tired of their little sisters. When I was little he used to meet me after school every day and walk me home. He’d help me with my homework, watch TV with me. My parents work a lot, but I never minded because Christopher was always there. And even when I was older, he’d check up on me. Just sort of, show up after school, like it was a coincidence or something. And he’d do his homework at the same time I was doing mine, so if I got stuck on a question he could help.

  ‘About six months before he disappeared, though, he started acting funny. He stayed out really late, got into trouble with Mum and Dad. He was never around, and he didn’t have much to say when he was there. I felt like I was kind of losing him. When I tried to talk to him about how he was, and was everything OK, he would walk away. Like he would literally get up and walk out of the house and not come back for hours. His grades went from great to terrible. My parents were completely freaked out, but they couldn’t do anything to help. He wouldn’t let them.’

  She stopped, remembering endless arguments and slamming doors. A night bird sang an elaborate melody.

  When she spoke again, her tone was emotionless. ‘He left a note. My parents wouldn’t tell me what it said, but I overheard Mum on the phone one day talking to someone about it. She had it memorised. It was the meanest thing I’ve ever heard. It said, “I’m leaving. I’m not hurt, I’m not on drugs. I just don’t want to be a part of this family any more. I don’t love you. Any of you. Don’t follow me. Don’t try to find me. I don’t need your help. You will never see me again”.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Jo whispered. When Allie looked up she saw that her eyes were filled with tears, which she dashed away with the back of her hand. ‘Oh Allie.’

  Allie focused on staying distant from the story she was telling, pretending, as she sometimes did, that it had all happened to somebody else. ‘So then it all fell apart. I had, I guess, a nervous breakdown. I couldn’t, like, talk. I sat in Christopher’s room for days on end. I didn’t go to school for months. They sent me to a counsellor, who I hated. My mum and dad fought with each other, and I was just this … nuisance to them that they had to deal with.

  ‘It was like, when he left he pulled the stopper from our lives and drained everything good out. They didn’t love me any more. And I felt nothing at all.’

  She sighed shakily. ‘Feeling something became really important to me. So I drank a lot; but actually that’s kind of the opposite of feeling anything, you know?’

  Jo nodded.

  ‘I hung out with people who hurt each other. I got into a lot of trouble. Getting arrested was really scary, so I did that a few times. I …’ she held out her left arm, exposing three neat, thin white scars between her wrist and the inside of her elbow. ‘I cut myself for a while. And that hurt, which was good. But it was also totally stupid. And it felt fake. Like, if you do it to yourself like that, it’s not real pain. So I don’t do that any more.’

  She rushed through the end of her story as if she couldn’t wait to be done with it. ‘Anyway, the last time I got arrested my parents had pretty much had enough of me. So here I am. They’ve got an empty house now. And I don’t even have that.’

  Spontaneously, Jo threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely. Then she leaned back and held her shoulders looking her in the eye. ‘OK. That’s fucking awful. But you’re here now. And you’re alive. I just met you Allie, but I can already tell you’re awesome. And you might have a horrible family, but your life from now on is up to you. I want you to promise me that you’ll give this place a chance. Cimmeria straightened me out. It’s my home now, and these people are my family. It can be the same for you.’

  Allie hugged her back, and fought back tears. ‘OK,’ she whispered, her voice quivering. ‘I promise.’

  Jo pulled Allie against her so that her head rested on Jo’s shoulder, and they sat quietly on the bench for a moment, each lost in thought. Allie felt awkward; hungover. Tired.

  ‘It’s funny this place,’ she mumbled. ‘Time seems sort of compressed here. I can’t believe I’ve only been here two days. This will be my third night. But I feel like I’ve been here for weeks.’

  Jo nodded. ‘It’s like life concentrated. More happens here in a week than happens outside in a month.’

  Curled up on the bench they talked idly as the daylight ebbed away, and the shadows filled the garden. ‘I can see why you like it here,’ Allie said as she stretched. ‘It’s kind of magical. Like that book you read when you’re little – The Secret Garden. Did you read that?’

  Jo nodded. ‘I’ve always …’

  Her words were interrupted by the sound of something crashing loudly at the far end of the garden. They both jumped.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Allie asked, staring into the gloom, noticing for the first time how dark it had become.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jo whispered. She peered at her watch. ‘Oh bugger! It’s nearly curfew. We have to get back.’

  She stood up, reaching out to Allie, and then they heard the sound again. Then footsteps.

  ‘What the …’ Jo whispered, then she raised her voice and shouted: ‘Who’s there?’

  The footsteps stopped.

  They stood frozen, listening to their hearts beat. ‘Jo,’ Allie whispered. ‘Couldn’t it be …’

  They both heard the growling sound at the same moment.

  Jo grabbed Allie’s arm.

  ‘Jo, what the hell is that?’ Allie whispered.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Should we …?’

  ‘Run?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘On three. One. Two …’

  The quiet was shattered by a crash that now seemed to come from the shadows inches away from them. They screamed and hurtled down the footpath. Jo held Allie’s hand tightly. ‘Stick with me,’ she said breathlessly and raced off the path into the orchard. In the darkness they zigzagged between the trees, and Allie could feel dropped fruit squelching sickeningly under her shoes. She tried to tell if she could hear footsteps aside from their own but they were going too fast – it was impossible to tell.

  Then something touched her head and she screamed, batting at the air around her. Jo dragged her to the left, around the tangle of blueberry bushes and into a rose garden. Thorns tore at their hands and clothes. Twigs snapped under their feet.

  Suddenly something grabbed Jo and lifted her off her feet, dragging her inside a room built into the wall. Allie could hear her trying to scream but a hand covered her mouth, muffling her.

  ‘Shhhh.’ Gabe held one finger to his lips and looked into Jo’s eyes. Jo threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

  Gabe reached out for Allie, but now somebody was holding her arms too. She looked up wildly to see Sylvain’s blue eyes watching her steadily in the darkness as he pulled her into the dark room.

  He mouthed one word: ‘Quiet.’

  SIX

  Allie froze and tried not to breathe.

  Gabe encircled Jo in his arms protectively, and Sylvain pulled Allie behind him. They both stared through the open door, their eyes alert.

  Something crashed through the garden and Allie jumped at the sound, but it sounded further away than before. And after a few seconds … silence.

  When a few uneventful moments had passed, Gabe and Sylvain exchanged a look, and then as if they’d been given a signal they began walking quickly towards the door. Gabe scanned the area around them, then looked back and nodded, and t
hey all ran silently out into the garden and down the path to the door, and out onto the lawn. Wordlessly, Jo handed Gabe the lock and he secured the door.

  For the first time Allie became conscious of the fact that Sylvain still had his arms around her. He had a distinctive scent of pine or juniper and she inhaled deeply, relaxing into his arms. Immediately his grip tightened around her.

  Faint streaks of light still glimmered in the sky as Gabe led them in through a back door that took them directly into the central hallway. In the light, Allie saw that Jo looked pale, and that she clung to Gabe tearfully. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, and Gabe touched it lightly with his finger.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ he said. ‘We should take you to the nurse.’

  She nodded her consent, and he wrapped his arm around her and walked her down the hall. Allie felt again the curious ache of envy. As if he’d sensed it, Sylvain stepped towards her and examined her face, smoothing her hair back.

  ‘Are you wounded at all?’ The concern in his eyes made her heart flutter. Now that he wasn’t holding her any more she felt an almost irresistible urge to climb back into his arms and breathe in that scent. Everywhere he touched her tingled.

  She took a shaky breath. ‘Sylvain, what was out there?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Something about his tone didn’t ring true and she looked up at him sharply. She had a feeling he was holding something back – something important.

  ‘We have to tell Isabelle what happened,’ she announced. Her eyes burned with determination.

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait until tomorrow, though. She’s probably asleep. Everyone is fine now and you do not want to appear to overreact, no?’

  Even though she wanted to disagree, she could see the logic – they had, after all, seen nothing. But after the adrenalin in the garden and the rush of the rescue, she wanted to do something. To go back outside and look for whatever that was. Or at least to sit and talk about what had happened. There was no way she’d be able to sleep.

  ‘Maybe we should go and check on Jo?’ she suggested hopefully.

  ‘She’s OK – Gabe’s with her.’ Sylvain paused and then continued with some reluctance as if he knew what her response would be. ‘Listen, it is past curfew. You should go to bed and we will deal with all of this tomorrow.’

  Allie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘What, seriously? No, Sylvain! I want to talk about what happened. Be completely honest: what did you see out there?’

  Sylvain’s reply was carefully framed.

  ‘I am afraid I saw nothing. Perhaps it was some sort of animal. Maybe you disturbed a fox or a badger.’ As she opened her mouth to protest he held up his hand to stop her. ‘You’re tired, Allie. And I’m tired, too. You really should go to sleep.’

  Allie wanted to stay, but arguing about whether or not she was tired didn’t seem like the best reason to break curfew and get detention.

  Reluctantly, she acquiesced. ‘Fine then. Good night Sylvain.’

  Her tone was brusque, but as she turned to go he caught her wrist and held it gently.

  ‘What? No good night kiss?’ he said, with a low chuckle. ‘No “thank you for rescuing me, Sylvain”? Not even a “you’re my hero, Sylvain”? You should never go to bed angry, ma belle Allie.’

  His blue eyes danced with amusement and he pulled her close, wrapping her in the hug she’d wanted a few minutes ago.

  At first, out of sheer stubbornness, she resisted but when he whispered jokingly in her ear, ‘It’s more fun if you help,’ she found herself laughing. His accent was completely irresistible anyway, and those eyes were incredible.

  When he kissed her cheek his lips lingered and his breath felt warm and welcome on her skin. She leaned into him, hoping it would last.

  ‘Now,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘go to bed on your own or I’ll drag you up there myself.’

  Allie focused on staying cool but she was melting inside.

  ‘Whatever,’ she said, turning away before he could see the effect he had on her.

  But of course he knew anyway.

  ‘Sweet dreams,’ he called after her with a light laugh.

  She ran up the stairs without looking back.

  The next morning Allie was up at six and feeling oddly energetic, as if the adrenalin from last night still rushed through her veins. Standing in front of her wardrobe, she wondered what to wear for hard labour, finally deciding on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, trainers and a white T-shirt with the school’s insignia on the breast. She pulled her hair back with a clip and, grabbing the detention notice, headed downstairs at a trot.

  Her stomach grumbled but it was too early for breakfast. Taking a chance, she peeked into the dining room and found it empty, however one table held bacon sandwiches on a warming platter alongside a silver ice bucket filled with water bottles. She walked into the room with some hesitation.

  They must be for us, otherwise why would they be there?

  Picking up a sandwich and a bottle, she looked around the empty space.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, holding the bottle of water aloft in a salute.

  She munched on the sandwich as she made her way through the quiet entrance hall and down the front steps. The morning air was cool and the sky overcast. Leaves of grass brushed chilly dew on her ankles.

  She thought it was actually quite nice being out on the grounds alone.

  But I wouldn’t want to do it every day.

  In her head, she went over the experiences of the night before and practised describing it all to Isabelle in a way that didn’t sound hysterical or emotional. It wasn’t easy.

  Walking past the treeline and into the shadows she shivered – it was several degrees colder out of the sun. The path was arrow-straight, shooting under pines and bypassing thorny brambles. Feathery wings of ferns delicately tickled against her calves but she barely noticed as she continued her mental vivisection of the evening before.

  After about ten minutes, the path arrived at a low stone wall, which it followed for about fifty feet before reaching a gate opening into a slightly overgrown churchyard. An ancient stone chapel stood in the middle, and a small group of students clustered near the door looking bored. Allie breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that they were all dressed much like her. Seeing nobody she recognised, she kept to the fringes of the group, leaning against the elaborately gnarled trunk of a yew tree.

  She’d barely got comfortable when the door of the chapel opened and a woman appeared in the doorway. Casually dressed in dark linen trousers and a white button-down shirt, her long dark hair was knotted loosely on her head. She held a clipboard in one hand.

  ‘Can I have all notices, please?’

  As the students walked up she took their sheets without comment, but when Allie handed hers in, she stopped her.

  ‘You must be Allie.’ She sounded as pleased as if they’d met in the dining room over a cup of tea. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from Isabelle. I’m Eloise Derleth, the librarian. You must stop in and say hello. Isabelle left some books for you at my desk.’

  She gave Allie a beaming smile and moved on to gather the rest of the papers together. When everything was in order, she raised her voice so the whole group could hear her.

  ‘I know you’re all eager to find out what today’s chore will be. So I won’t keep you waiting. Please follow me.’

  Some students rolled their eyes and giggled as they trooped along behind her. Allie stuck to the edges, caution holding her back.

  Eloise led them around the side of the chapel to a shed at the back of the churchyard. It was a lovely place with aged gravestones leaning higgledy-piggledy under leafy trees amid deep, soft grass. An old garden bench rotted slowly against the wall in a pool of sunshine. A man in the black work outfit worn by the staff at the school waited at the back of the building.

  ‘Today you’re going to be clearing the churchyard,’ Eloise explained. ‘Mr Ellison wi
ll give you everything you need and assign you tasks for the morning. Good luck!’

  With a cheerful smile, she walked briskly down the path and out the gate. Allie headed over to join the group queuing to collect tools from Mr Ellison.

  ‘I’m dividing you up into teams.’ His voice was a rich, resonant baritone, and as he handed out tools, Allie marvelled at the sheer size of him. He must have been six and a half feet tall; his arms were thick and strong, probably, she theorised, from working outside all his life. His skin was the colour of espresso, and he had a wonderfully calming manner.

  ‘These are my weed trimmers here.’ He gestured at a group of boys he’d already armed with noisy devices. ‘They’ll trim around the graves while this group here,’ he pointed at two boys and a girl pushing lawnmowers in various directions, ‘do the main clearing.’

  Allie was the last in the queue. As she walked up, Mr Ellison gave her a polite nod.

  ‘You two will be my rakers.’

  Two?

  She spun around to find Carter standing beside her, gazing innocently at the gardener as he handed over their rakes. As she stared at him, astonished, Carter thanked him politely, then turned on his heel and strode off carrying both rakes in one hand.

  She hurried after him, hopping gingerly past the graves and stumbling on the uneven ground as the angry mosquito buzz of lawn devices filled the air.

  ‘What are you doing here? And where are you going?’ she asked sharply. And when he ignored her: ‘Hey! Shouldn’t we be raking instead of running?’

  Carter didn’t seem bothered by her attitude. ‘I have detention. Why are you here? And can you please chill? We need to wait a few minutes for the mowers to give us something to rake. So I’m getting out of the way.’

  He didn’t stop until he got to the yew tree near the front of the church. He leaned the rakes against the trunk and then, stepping up on a bulging tree root, climbed onto a low branch where he sat comfortably with his legs hanging down. Holding out his hand to her, he raised his eyebrow questioningly.

  After hesitating (and imagining herself standing aloof and saying, ‘No thanks, I’m happy standing.’) Allie reluctantly reached up. As he took her hand and lifted her up beside him, there was something in his gaze that she couldn’t interpret and she felt a rush of colour to her cheeks.