All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(37)

‘No,’ said Quistina. ‘Take as long as you need.’

On the way into the shower, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked feral. My hair was matted and filled with knots. My eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under them were more like bruises. There were actual bruises and marks up and down my arms and legs. (Not to mention that tattoo on my ankle.) My nails were ragged and bloody – I hadn’t even been aware that I had been digging at the ground, but that was the only explanation. I was coated in dirt. Once I was actually in the shower, I became aware of how truly terrible I smelt, too.

As it wasn’t on my dime, I took a very long shower. Possibly the longest shower of my life.

When I got out, my school uniform was on the bathroom counter. Someone had laundered it and even shined my shoes.

Upon putting on my clothing, I realized that I must have lost some weight. The skirt that had fit perfectly a few days earlier was now a couple of inches too big in the waist and rested on my hips.

‘Mrs Cobrawick would like to see you before you go,’ Quistina said.

‘Oh.’ I was not eager to encounter that woman again. ‘Quistina,’ I asked, ‘would you happen to know why I’m being released?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t really know the specifics or if I’m even supposed to talk about it with you.’

‘That’s OK,’ I said.

‘Although,’ she whispered, ‘on the news, they said people all over town were ending up in the hospital with chocolate poisoning, so . . .’

‘Jesus,’ I said, and then I crossed myself. This news meant that the Fretoxin contamination had been in the supply. It hadn’t just been Gable. He’d likely been the first because my family got our chocolate before everyone else. The question wasn’t whether I had poisoned Gable but who had tainted the entire shipment of Balanchine Special. These kinds of cases could take years to solve.

I’d been using Mrs Cobrawick’s private bathroom and, according to Quistina, she was waiting for me in her sitting room, which was down the hall.

Mrs Cobrawick was wearing a formal black dress as if she were in mourning. She was perched on the edge of an appropriately severe black parsons chair. The only sound in the room was the tapping of her nails against the glass coffee table.

‘Mrs Cobrawick?’

‘Come in, Anya,’ she said in a tone that was markedly different from the one she’d last used with me. ‘Have a seat.’

I told her that I’d rather stand. I was exhausted but relieved to be ambulant again. Besides, I didn’t exactly relish a lengthy visit with Mrs Cobrawick and standing would discourage such a possibility.

‘You look tired, dear. And it’s polite to sit,’ Mrs Cobrawick said.

‘I’ve spent the last three days sitting, ma’am,’ I said.

‘Is that meant to be some sort of dig?’ Mrs Cobrawick asked.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘It’s a statement of fact.’

Mrs Cobrawick smiled at me. She had a very broad smile – all her teeth showed and her lips disappeared. ‘I see how you’re going to play this now,’ she said.

‘Play this?’ I asked.

‘You think you’ve been treated badly here,’ Mrs Cobrawick said.

Hadn’t I? I thought.

‘But I simply wanted to help you, Anya. It looked as if you might be here a very long time – there was so very much evidence against you – and I find that it makes everyone’s time easier if I’m stern with the new arrivals up front. It’s my unofficial policy, really. That way, the girls will know what’s expected of them. Especially those who’ve had as privileged a background as you’ve had—’

I couldn’t listen to this any longer. ‘You keep mentioning my privileged background,’ I said. ‘But you don’t know me, Mrs Cobrawick. Maybe you think you know things about me. What you’ve read in the newspapers about my family and such, but you really don’t know the first thing.’

‘But—’ she said.

‘You know some of the girls here are innocent. Or even if they’re not innocent, whatever they’ve done is in their past and they’re just trying to do their best to move on. So maybe you could treat people based on your own experiences with them. Maybe that might make a good unofficial policy.’ I turned to leave.

‘Anya,’ she called. ‘Anya Balanchine!’

I didn’t turn back around but I heard her coming after me. A couple of seconds later, I felt her claw-like hand on my arm.

‘What?’

Mrs Cobrawick clutched my hand. ‘Please don’t tell your friends at the DA’s office that you were treated badly here. I don’t need any trouble. I was . . . I was foolish not to consider how well connected your family still is.’

‘I don’t have any friends at the DA’s office,’ I said. ‘Even if I did, getting you in trouble is pretty much at the bottom of my list of things to take care of. What I’d most like is to never see you or this place again in my life.’

‘What about Charles Delacroix?’

Win’s father? ‘I’ve never met him,’ I said.

‘Well, he’s waiting for you outside. He’s come to personally escort you back to Manhattan. You really are a very fortunate girl, Anya. To have such powerful friends and not even know it.’