Fracture

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the girl – about the same size and build as Zoe – let go of her friend and walked fearfully down the hall in front of him.

Left behind, her friend sobbed brokenly. Meeting Allie’s shocked gaze she held up her hands. ‘I don’t understand… what’s happening?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Allie whispered to Rachel.

The girl’s long blonde hair was tied back with a blue bow – she was skinny, with a light dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose. She looked somehow familiar, but Allie couldn’t place where it was she’d seen her before.

Crouching down until her gaze was on the girl’s level, she took her by the shoulders, her hands gentle but firm. ‘Listen to me. Do you see that door right there?’ She pointed at the door to her own bedroom. The weeping girl nodded. ‘Go in there and do not come out until the cars are all gone. Not even if someone calls your name. Not even if it’s someone you know.’ Clearly terrified, the girl nodded. She’d stopped crying, and she stared at Allie as if she were a rescuer, descending from a helicopter to pluck her from a flooded house.

Her eyes were the same cornflower blue as Jo’s.

Allie’s throat had gone so tight she could hardly speak. Jo didn’t have a little sister – it must just be a coincidence. But the similarity was so striking…

‘What’s your name?’ she whispered.

‘Emma.’

‘Your last name.’ But Allie’s tone was too insistent and the girl began to cry again.

‘Hammond,’ she said, sobbing.

Rachel had crouched down next to her too, now. She took the girl’s hand. ‘Emma Hammond, how old are you?’

‘T-twelve,’ the girl replied.

Rachel nodded seriously as if twelve was a very good age to be. ‘Will you be OK for a little while by yourself? While we go and try to help some other girls?’

The girl nodded, although it was clear she wasn’t at all sure.

Allie had control of herself now. She wasn’t related to Jo. Her eyes were just blue.

People have blue eyes.

‘There are biscuits in the top right drawer of my desk,’ Allie said. ‘I expect you to eat them all. Now go.’

They watched as the girl ran into the bedroom. Their eyes met for a second as the door began to close and Allie again saw a resemblance to Jo that made her shudder.

Swallowing hard, she nodded at the little girl. The door latched with a sturdy click.

‘I wish those doors had locks,’ Rachel muttered.

‘Me too.’ Allie squeezed her hand.

Rachel caught her gaze. ‘You did the right thing,’ she said, answering the question Allie was afraid to ask.

‘But she’s too young,’ Allie said. ‘Too young for us to include her in our plan. Nobody under sixteen could stay without their parents’ permission, remember?’ She kicked the wall next to her with such force a feather-sized piece of plaster floated down to rest on the floor next to her foot. ‘Why don’t we have a better plan? Why are we so stupid?’

Rachel’s jaw was tight. ‘We did the best we could.’

But at that moment it felt like they’d failed.

Looking at the bizarre scene around them, Allie said, ‘Are you OK to be up here alone? This is worse than I expected.’

Some part of her expected Rachel to tell her not to go – she didn’t really want to be alone right now herself. But, to Allie’s surprise, Rachel just squared her shoulders.

‘I’ll be fine. But, Allie?’ The look on her face gave Allie an idea of what was coming next. ‘I’m not going to leave the young ones. I’m going to hide them, too.’

Allie couldn’t ever remember being more proud of her.

‘It was a crap plan, anyway,’ she said, a smile quirking up her lips.

Rachel held up her fist. ‘Stay safe.’

As Allie raised her own fist a sudden thought made her hesitate. This is the first time I’ve ever seen Rachel really behave as if she was in Night School.

Before Rachel could notice the pause, though, Allie recovered and bumped her fist with her own. ‘Always.’

Downstairs, the scene was even worse than the girls’ dorm. As students wept and struggled, and uniformed men shouted, Zelazny stood red-faced near the door bellowing, ‘Please return to your normal activities! Do not linger in the hallway. If you are collecting students, do so in an orderly fashion. School must not be disrupted!’

No one was listening.

‘There’s no need to be so grabby!’ A tall, bookish-looking boy said, wrenching his arm free from a uniformed muscle-man’s grip. ‘I’m cooperating. You can tell them I cooperated.’

Allie recognised the stressed-out boy from the study carrel – the one who’d snapped at her the other day. But now he looked young and frightened – his glasses had been knocked crooked on his face as he tried to walk with elaborate dignity, just out of the man’s reach.

‘Hey!’ Running to his side, Allie touched his shoulder and he spun round to look at her. Behind his dark- framed glasses, his eyes looked afraid. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Oh, I’m just fine,’ he said with false bravery. ‘I’m going home, though. Pete here won’t have it any other way, eh, Pete?’

The dark sarcasm in his voice was not missed by the man, who shot him a threatening look.

‘Think you’re funny? I am allowed to subdue you, boy. You do not want me to subdue you.’ With that, Pete shoved the boy so hard he took an involuntary sprawling step towards the door.

‘See?’ he said despairingly as he caught himself. ‘Everything’s just fine.’

As they walked out the door, the driver turned to look at Allie with appraising eyes – something in his gaze made her blood chill in her veins. He knew who she was.

Suddenly afraid, she ran across the entrance hall to where Zelazny had given up shouting and now muttered at a clipboard in his hand. He seemed to be ticking names off as students walked out, dragging their suitcases behind them.

‘Mr Zelazny —’ Allie began, but he cut her off without looking up.

‘Not now.’

But she was not going to be put off. Not today.

‘Mr Zelazny.’ This time she said his name with such authority the teacher looked up, his mouth open in surprise.

When she had his full attention, Allie spoke clearly, enunciating each syllable: ‘Where is Isabelle?’

For a moment he looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. As she studied him with a frown, she noticed the clipboard quivering very slightly.

Blustering, raging, fearless Zelazny was frightened. But if he was the spy… wasn’t this what he wanted?

‘Isabelle?’ she said again.

He rubbed a weary hand across his face.

‘Great hall.’ His voice was hoarse from shouting, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Without waiting for more information, Allie fought her way back through the noisy, frightened crowd, across the polished oak floor, past the tapestries where ladies in long, medieval gowns looked upon the chaos but passed no judgement, under the sparkling crystal chandeliers.

The door to the great hall stood open. Clad in a dark skirt and crisp, grey blouse, a silk scarf draped around her neck, Isabelle stood on the low platform she used for induction days, surrounded by a crowd of worried teachers and a handful of students.