She pulled up her hood and headed away from town. The closer she got to Hill House, the more she picked up her pace. By the time she reached St Mary’s, its weathervane creaking in the wind, she was running. She didn’t hesitate at the broken gates but put her trust in blind faith and ran straight through.

Momentarily blinded by snow, she laughed. The hazy, artificial light of the town gave way to a black night sky with an ocean of sharp white stars. The only sound was the squeak of her leather boots in the thick snow as she spun around.

‘I’m back!’ she called into the silence. ‘You let me back in!’

So what if the cold bit her cheeks and froze her hair. Let it! So what if she didn’t understand how any of this was happening. She had come back, that’s all that mattered, and she would help the Mandevilles. Hitching up her skirt, she sprinted across the lawn, making for the beacon of Hill House and the warm glow of light radiating from every room.

21

22 December 1913

Despite her best efforts, by the time Lou reached the front door, the hem of her skirt was sodden. Since nobody was expecting her, she managed to slip into the entrance vestibule unnoticed. A welcoming fire blazed in the hearth in the hall. She winked at the lions on the stone chimneybreast and checked her reflection in the mirror, grinning inanely at her cheeks, flushed to a bright pink, and her wet hair only vaguely held in place by a silver clip. She would have pinched herself had she not known that it would now hurt for real! The long-cased clock chimed six. It was late to be dressing for dinner, very late. She grinned at her reflection again before taking hold of her long skirt and running up the stairs.

She found Sally waiting in her room, a towel over her arm.

‘Am I glad to see you,’ Lou said. ‘Don’t worry with a bath, there’s no time.’

‘Very good, Miss,’ Sally said brusquely. She was still cross about their argument, but an apology would have to wait until tomorrow. Lou’s brain was too busy buzzing with next steps to be distracted by anything else. The extra time would give her the opportunity to come up with an explanation for her behaviour that didn’t make her sound like a lunatic.

Wordlessly, Sally peeled away the layers of wet clothes and dressed Lou for dinner. Lou sat silently at the dressing table, allowing Sally to get to grips with her dishevelled hair. When Sally pinched a damp strand, she tutted as though she were about to plait the mane of a horse that had been left out in a field. Sally didn’t ask how Lou had managed to get into such a state, but Lou was sure Sally was rougher than usual – her hair brushing harsher, the twists and pinning more severe. When she pushed a black feather into Lou’s hair to compliment the black lace decorating her jade green dress, it dug into Lou’s scalp. But Lou didn’t complain. She deserved it. Sally had a job to do, and she had left her little enough time to do it in. Anyway, nothing, not even Sally’s scowl, could dent Lou’s enthusiasm. Because tonight, she was going to begin helping the Mandevilles for real.