* * *
I come to life whenever Niall’s close. Like one of those stop-motion videos, where you see a flower blooming in sped-up time. Even when the children run into the classroom with their excited chatter and loud footsteps I still feel his pull.
Niall is at the front of the room, talking about Van Gogh’s starry night. There’s an intensity to his eyes when he mentions the yellowness of the stars and the inky blueness of the sky. He urges the kids to go out and look at the heavens tonight, and remember it’s the same one that Vincent saw all those years ago. I look around the room, amazed at how the children are hanging on his every word.
All except one.
Cameron Gibbs catches my eye and stares at me, giving me an exaggerated wink. It takes a minute for me to realise he wants to tell me something. Even longer to work out he wants to talk to me in private. I get a sinking feeling when I realise he can only have one thing to talk about.
Niall is still explaining how Van Gogh painted while he was a patient at an asylum—a fact that the kids barely bat an eyelash at—and I realise there’s only one thing for it.
“Cameron, can you help me get a couple of things out of the supply cupboard?” I ask.
Niall breaks off his speech to look at me. “I can help.”
Any other time I’d have jumped at his offer, but I’m anxious to hear what Cameron has to say. “It’s all right, you carry on. This’ll only take a minute.”
When we walk to the cupboard I leave the door open so I don’t arouse suspicion. This means we have to speak in lowered voices, but it’s worth it just to find out his news. There’s a smug expression on Cameron’s face, as if he knows he holds all the cards.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve found some stuff out.”
What I thought was smugness is actually pride. It melts my heart a little. “About Allegra? What’s happened?”
“I’ve seen that bloke hanging round. The one with the slicked-back hair and leather jacket. Face that looks like papier mâché.”
My stomach drops. It sounds just like Darren. He must’ve had bad acne as a kid, because his face is pocked with tiny craters.
“Where did you see him?” My tone is urgent. I need to know if Allegra is in danger. “Do you know if he went into their flat?”
Cameron screws up his nose and thinks. “Nah, I seen him hanging ’round the park. Doing some deals, smoking with his mates.” His face lights up as if he’s just thought of a brilliant idea. “I could follow him next time, like one of those detectives. I’m stealthy; he won’t notice a thing.”
Fear chills me to the core. “No,” I whisper-shout, my eyes widening. “He’s dangerous. If he even knew you were watching him he’d go mad.” How stupid I was, involving a kid in something so foolish. “Don’t go anywhere near him.”
He stares at me as if I’m crazy. “I wouldn’t let him see me.”
“Cam.” I reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you so much for looking out for Allegra. You’re a good kid. But I don’t need you to keep an eye out anymore. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He almost looks disappointed. He thinks this is a game. Something to do when he gets bored of kicking a ball around with his mates. If I tell him how dangerous Darren can be, he’ll see the whole thing as a challenge.
“
Nah, I reckon you’ve repaid me twice over. I don’t want to end up owing you.” I make an expression of mock-horror, hoping he can’t see right through me.
“I suppose not.” He shrugs. “Have it your way then. As long as we’re even?”
“We are.” I nod. “Definitely even.”
I send him out with some old boxes of magazines that need recycling, directing him to the big bin at the back of the clinic. When I walk back to the front of the room, Niall catches my eye and inclines his head. “Okay?” he mouths.
Even though I’m far from okay, I give him a brief smile before I nod. I’m not ready to share this yet, not until I think through the implications. My eyes gravitate toward Allegra, who is dabbing gold paint on the black paper Niall has given them, creating her own version of the Starry Night. Her sleeves are rolled up, enough for me to see her pale forearms, unblemished by red marks or bruises. I check the rest of her exposed skin: face, neck, and skinny legs, but there’s nothing to give me alarm.
She looks like a normal eight-year-old kid. As normal as she’ll ever be.
Of course, there could be all sorts of horrors hiding underneath her clothes, or even worse, beneath her skin. I walk over and stand behind her, admiring her work, and Allegra turns to smile up at me.
“Do you like it?”