Free Night School - Endgame by C.J. Daugherty Page B

stopped fidgeting. When she glanced up, Allie saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She looked so heart-broken. And of course she would be – she’d known Lucinda all her life. Lucinda had treated Isabelle like her own daughter.
    The same way Isabelle treated Allie.
    The realisation took her by surprise. She’d been so focused on herself, she hadn’t thought about how devastated Isabelle must be right now. Between Carter and Lucinda – her whole life had just fallen apart.
    Maybe she had things to say to that pine box, too.
    ‘Would you like to… to sit with me, for a while?’ Allie held out a hand. ‘We could say goodbye together.’
     
    The next day was Lucinda’s funeral.
    That morning, Allie brushed her hair until it hung in smooth waves over her shoulders and carefully applied her makeup. Her grey eyes looked back at her from the mirror, serious but clear. Her nose was still pink from last night’s tears, but that was the only giveaway.
    She and Isabelle had sat in the chapel talking about Lucinda until the candles began to burn down.
    The conversation that started with tears, had gradually morphed into the headmistress telling stories of her childhood, with Lucinda as her de facto stepmother. Soon they were both laughing about a Pekinese puppy given to Lucinda by a foreign ambassador.
    ‘She didn’t want to keep it, but I loved it,’ Isabelle recalled. ‘I named him Socks. He slept in my bed when I visited during school hols. He was so cute, but he was utterly, hopelessly stupid. Lucinda was Chancellor at the time, so she lived at Number 11 Downing Street. It was her house and her office. One day the prime minister came over for a meeting and Socks peed on his handmade lamb-skin wing-tips. He said…’ Isabelle lowered her voice into a passable impression of the former prime minister’s gruff, Scottish demeanour. ‘“Luce, it’s Socks or me, and I’ve got to tell you I don’t think the dog will back your eight-point plan for economic recovery.”’
    Allie laughed.
    ‘She never did get rid of that dog,’ Isabelle said. ‘He lived to be fifteen. She always said she hated him but I think she loved him as much as I did.’
    ‘What about Nathaniel?’ Allie asked. ‘Was he close to Lucinda then? As close as you were?’
    Isabelle’s expression grew thoughtful.
    ‘He was always an odd one, Nathaniel. A skinny kid with a chip on his shoulder. Our dad pushed him too hard, I think. Always demanding a kind of perfection from him that he didn’t ask of me. And his life was so sad – losing his mother like that when he was still a child. Everyone wanted to help him but…’ She held up her hands. ‘He just wanted to be alone.’
    Allie told Isabelle what she’d overheard earlier from Nathaniel’s guards. ‘They say he’s locked up with old pictures. He doesn’t eat.’
    Isabelle’s face tightened; she stared into the shadows at the end of the chapel.
    ‘Nathaniel’s relationship with Lucinda was… complicated,’ she said after many seconds had ticked away. ‘I think he did love her in his own way. But he pushed her away because…’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I guess because he wanted her to prove she’d come back. That she’d always be there. No matter what he did.’
    Allie’s thoughts drifted to her own parents. She hadn’t seen them since Christmas. They talked occasionally on the phone but their conversations were stilted and brief.
    She blamed them for not wanting her. They blamed her for being difficult.
    It was like they wanted a different daughter. And she wanted different parents.
    Maybe Nathaniel felt the same way about his father.
    You can’t choose your parents. But if you could… Life would be a hell of a lot easier.
    From outside she could hear the rumble of engines and the crunching of tyres on the school’s gravel drive. The funeral guests were arriving.
    Allie stood up and headed for the door.
    Lucinda would never forgive her for being late to her