All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(38)

Win’s father was to meet me in the Exit Room, an area that was reserved for those leaving Liberty. The Exit Room was more elaborately decorated than any other place in the facility, with the possible exception of Mrs Cobrawick’s quarters. There were overstuffed couches, brass lamps and framed black-and-white photographs of immigrants arriving at Ellis Island. Mrs Cobrawick waited with me. I would have very much preferred to wait alone.

Though I might have expected such a powerful man to have an entourage, Charles Delacroix had arrived alone. He looked like a superhero without the cape. He was taller than Win, and his jaw was broader, as if he spent his days eating trees or rocks. His hands were large and powerful but much softer than Win’s. No farming for Charles Delacroix.

‘You must be Anya Balanchine,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m Charles Delacroix. Let’s ride on the ferry together, shall we?’ His manner was such that it seemed as if there was nothing he’d rather be doing than taking some mafiya daughter on a boat ride back to Manhattan.

Mrs Cobrawick piped up. ‘We are so very honoured to have you visiting our facility, Mr Delacroix. I am Evelyn Cobrawick, the principal here.’

Charles Delacroix offered her his hand. ‘Yes. How rude of me. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Cobrawick.’

‘Perhaps you’d like a tour of the facility while you’re here?’

‘No time for that today, I’m afraid,’ Charles Delacroix said. ‘But we really must reschedule.’

‘Please do,’ said Mrs Cobrawick. ‘I’d love for you to see Liberty. We are very proud of our humble institution. Truth be told, we think of it more like a home.’ Mrs Cobrawick punctuated this comment with a modest laugh.

‘Home?’ Charles Delacroix repeated. ‘Is that what you call it?’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Cobrawick. ‘It might seem silly to you, but I do think of it that way.’

‘Not silly, Mrs Cobrawick, but perhaps a tad disingenuous. You see, I was raised in an institution like this one. Not a reformatory, but an orphanage. And trust me, those confined to the walls of such a place do not think of it as a home.’ Charles Delacroix turned his gaze to me. ‘But you’re in luck. For I have Miss Balanchine as a travelling companion and I imagine she will be able to attest to the qualities of Liberty on the boat ride back.’

I nodded, but said nothing. I would not give Mrs Cobrawick any more fodder. I crossed my arms, which made Charles Delacroix notice that one of the injection sites was inflamed and oozing pus. ‘Did this happen to you here?’ he asked me in a gentle tone.

‘Yes.’ I pulled the sleeve of my dress shirt down. ‘But it doesn’t hurt much.’

His eyes moved down my arm to my hand and to the raw and worried skin of my fingertips. ‘And this I presume.’

I said nothing.

‘I wonder, Mrs Cobrawick, if these are the kinds of injuries that children sustain in a home.’ Charles Delacroix took my arm in his. ‘Let’s do schedule that tour, Mrs Cobrawick. On second thoughts, perhaps I’ll drop in unannounced.’

‘Your predecessor never had any problem with the way I ran Liberty,’ Mrs Cobrawick called.

‘I am not my predecessor,’ Charles Delacroix replied.

Once we were on the boat back to Manhattan, Charles Delacroix said to me, ‘Dreadful place. I’m glad to be out of there. I imagine you are, too.’

I nodded.

‘Dreadful woman, too,’ he continued. ‘I’ve known Mrs Cobrawicks all my life. Small-minded bureaucrats in love with their tiny bit of power.’ Charles Delacroix shook his head.

‘Why don’t you do something about Liberty then?’ I asked.

‘I suppose I’ll have to some day. But the city has so many serious problems and I frankly don’t have the resources to deal with everything at once. Liberty is a fiasco. That woman is a fiasco. But they are, at the very least and for the time being, contained fiascos.’ Mr Delacroix stared over the railing of the ferry. ‘It’s called triage, my dear.’

Triage was something I understood very well. It was the organizing principle of my entire life.

‘I want to apologize for the fact that you were sent to Liberty at all. This was a mistake. People in my office got overexcited at the idea of a teenage poisoner, and they became positively histrionic at the idea of that criminal being the daughter of Leonyd Balanchine. They mean well, but they’re . . . It took a couple of days, but you’ve been completely cleared, of course. Your attorney, Mr Green, was remarkably vocal in your defence. Incidentally, the young man . . . Gable is it?’

I nodded.

‘He’s taken a turn for the better. He’ll have a long recovery ahead of him, but he’s definitely going to make it.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ I said weakly. I felt anaesthetized, unlike myself.

‘You go to school with my boy?’ Charles Delacroix asked.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Win thinks very highly of you,’ he said.

‘I like him, too,’ I replied.

‘Yes. I was afraid of that.’ Charles Delacroix turned to look me in the eyes. ‘Listen, Anya – do you mind if I call you Anya?’

‘No.’

‘So, Anya, I can tell you’re a very level-headed young lady. How do I know this? Back at Liberty, you could have taken the opportunity to destroy Mrs Cobrawick in front of me. You didn’t. You were thinking about your next move. Getting out of that place. I admire that. Street smarts, I guess you’d call it, something my son lacks. And I can see why Win would like you. You’re very attractive and your background is exciting to say the least. But you can never be my son’s girlfriend.’