‘No, it’s not simple,’ Allie said sharply. ‘Because I don’t understand it at all.’
‘Yes you do. Think it through, Allie.’ Lucinda’s response was low and dangerous. ‘After all these months, don’t you know what you’re part of? In your heart, don’t you already know?’
The phone felt hot in Allie’s hands as her mind flipped through the last few months – the things she’d been told. Bits of information like puzzle pieces sliding into place.
Night School is part of a much larger organisation… Cimmeria is more powerful than you know… The Board of Night School is also the Board of the Organisation… The board controls everything… The prime minister… Several ministers are coming to the ball… Lucinda is in charge of the board… The government… Lucinda…
How can you not know?
‘Night School controls the government.’ Allie’s words came out in a whisper, but as soon as she said them she was certain she was right.
‘Not Night School,’ Lucinda corrected her. ‘But the organisation.’
For a long moment Allie sat still, trying to absorb all this information. It was too much to grasp. Too horrible to accept.
‘I don’t…’ she said. ‘I mean… how?’
Lucinda’s reply was brisk. ‘The important thing is that it does. And if Nathaniel defeats me, all that power will be his. He will be unstoppable.’
Imagining a world in which Nathaniel ran everything, Allie bit her lip so hard it bled – the coppery taste was bitter on her tongue.
‘You can’t let that happen.’
This was what Lucinda was waiting for. She pounced. ‘I want to stop him. But I can’t do it without you. So… will you stay and fight with me?’
There was no doubt in Allie’s mind any more. It was so much worse than she’d thought – so much more dangerous and frightening. She didn’t have a choice… did she?
‘Yes,’ she said tiredly. ‘I’ll stay.’
‘Good.’ Lucinda sounded grimly pleased. ‘But now that you know what’s at stake I expect you to be part of this. You’re in danger no matter where you are – even at Cimmeria. We don’t know who the spy is among us so you must be constantly alert.’
‘I will be,’ Allie said numbly.
Lucinda continued, ‘Do everything Isabelle asks without question; I trust her completely and you should do the same.’
Allie’s eyes were drawn to where the headmistress sat watching her, a pen forgotten in her hand. Perhaps she could hear Lucinda’s voice through the phone; her gaze was sharp and knowing.
‘OK.’
‘It won’t be easy,’ Lucinda warned her. ‘You have a great deal of atoning to do for last night’s incident. Isabelle will punish you and it won’t be pleasant – she is very angry with you. I expect you to do every piece of menial, exhausting, pointless labour she hands you without complaint. Also, there must be no more running away – I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are. In fact, there can be no more breaking of The Rules whatsoever – those Rules will keep you alive. And finally, even with all this happening, you are still in school so you must catch up on your coursework and excel in your lessons. Are we agreed?’
Her mind reeling from this litany of demands, Allie nodded mutely before realising her grandmother couldn’t see her.
‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Agreed.’
But Lucinda wasn’t finished. ‘Good. Understand this, Allie: violate any part of our agreement and our deal is off. I don’t want to but I will cut you loose if I have to. And you do not want to be out there on your own, I promise you.
‘But give me everything I’ve asked for and, I swear to you, I will give you your revenge.’
By the time Allie left Isabelle’s office, the light had begun to fade from the sky.
She felt exposed, walking through the halls in her street clothes, surrounded by the students in their matching dark blue blazers with the white Cimmeria crest over their hearts. Even with her head down, she could sense curious eyes studying her, hear quiet voices whispering, giggling. But when she glanced up no one met her gaze. She was invisible.
Hurrying her pace, she sped up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory wing and then down the quiet narrow hall to her bedroom. Once inside she leaned back against the door – relishing the privacy. But when she turned on the lights, she stopped in her tracks.
Her room was spotless.
The dirty clothes had disappeared. Papers had been filed. Books were lined up on well-dusted shelves. The wooden floors had been swept and mopped; the bed covered in a crisp white duvet, a blue blanket folded neatly over the footboard.
This was a message from Isabelle and Allie heard it, loud and clear: no more special favours.
In the mirror by the door, she caught a glimpse of her wild hair and smeared makeup. She already knew she reeked of cider and sweat.
She didn’t belong in this room looking like that.
Stripping off her grubby jeans and jumper, Allie wrapped herself in a warm dressing gown, grabbed a fluffy white towel and headed for the door.
At the last second, though, she turned back and picked the clothes up from the floor, dropping them in the laundry basket in the corner.
A deal was a deal.
‘Satisfied?’ she asked the empty room.
As she made her way down the hall she tried to clear her head of the memory of Mark’s expression as she told him she’d decided to stay at Cimmeria. Isabelle had given them a few minutes alone before he was put on a train back to London.
‘You must be joking.’ Disbelief had filled his eyes. ‘I’ve just been held prisoner. For hours. You’re covered in scars and your teachers are fascists, but suddenly everything’s fine?’
Allie hadn’t known what to say. How could she explain to an outsider everything she now knew?
‘Look,’ she said, ‘there’s a lot you don’t know —’
He’d cut her off with an impatient gesture. ‘Come on, Allie. I’ve seen your school – it’s like a bleedin’ castle. And I’ve heard how you talk – you were always a little posh but now you sound like the bloody Queen.’
Stung, Allie felt the blood rush to her face. ‘That’s not fair, Mark. I’m still the same person.’
‘No you’re not.’ With his hands resting on his narrow hips, he studied her as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘Maybe you don’t know it but it’s obvious to me. You’re not one of us any more. You’re one of them.’
Remembering how he’d looked at her then, Allie shivered and pulled the robe more tightly around her.
With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom. It was blessedly empty at this hour. In a pure white shower cubicle, she turned the hot water up until the temperature teetered on the brink of painful and let it flood over her, washing away the grime of the last twenty-four hours.
She ran the soap across her skin, noticing the changes the car accident had made to her body – the scars were slick bumps beneath her fingertips.
Each one was a reminder of what she still had to do.
Something Dr Cartwright had said to her in one of their meetings nagged at her. ‘It is OK,’ he’d said, ‘for you to be alive even if Jo isn’t.’
She hadn’t believed him at the time.
But maybe he was right, she thought now. Because I have to be alive to kill Gabe.
Back in her bedroom, she wrestled a comb through her tangled hair and dabbed on foundation. But even when she’d done it, dark shadows still underlined her grey eyes; her skin looked sallow.
Flinging open the wardrobe, she surveyed the row of dark blue options in front of her. The choice of what to wear at Cimmeria was rarely complicated. Dark tights and a short pleated skirt went on first. Then a crisp, white, button-down blouse topped by a blue blazer. A pair of sensible, school-issued shoes and she was fully disguised as a Cimmeria student.