‘Just ring the bell, Miss, if you need anything at all,’ the maid said. She stood in the doorway, turned away from Lou. When Lou tried to get a better look at the girl’s face, she twisted away.

‘Do I know you?’ Lou asked, taking in the red hair pulled back and topped off with a crisp white cap.

‘I … I don’t think so.’

‘You look familiar.’

‘I’ve got a familiar face. Or so I’m told.’

‘What’s your name again?’

‘Jones.’ She gave her name so quietly, it seemed she would rather not have given it at all. ‘If that’s everything, Miss?’

‘If what’s everything?’

‘Can I go? Sorry, may I go, Miss?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. Don’t let me stop you.’

The maid didn’t waste a second in closing the door behind her.

Lou stood in the middle of the bedroom, bathed in the afternoon sunlight. Outside, beyond the trees, the clock of St Mary’s chimed the hour. The snow-covered landscape was empty, save for a handful of cottages just beyond the gates. There was no motorway splitting Hill House from St Mary’s and no Hill House Council Estate. Lou lay down on the bed, nestled into the inviting feather quilt, and closed her eyes. A house coming back to life, a woman from India, two long-dead Mandeville women miraculously resurrected, a fancy room and a bashful maid who she thought she recognised. This was some crazy dream. But if it was a dream, why did the taste of the buttery biscuit still linger on her tongue? How could she feel the soft linen of the pillow against her cheek and smell the lavender in a glass bowl on the nightstand …?

5

Slowly Lou became aware of someone knocking at her bedroom door. She opened her eyes. The room was dark – no moonlight, no streetlamps. The snow must have caused a power cut. She rolled over. ‘My bag’s in the hall. Take what you can find in my purse.’

Silence.

‘Dean, I said take what you want. Order a pizza if you’re hungry.’

The door opened a crack.

‘Miss Arnold,’ a female voice said.

With a start, Lou sat up.

‘Would you like me to turn on the light?’ the woman asked.

‘Yes. OK. All right.’

A bright light shone from overhead. Momentarily dazzled, Lou peered around the strange room until shapes began to make sense: a wardrobe with its matching dressing table, yellow curtains at the window and a yellow quilt, dented with the imprint of her body. How could she still be in this crazy dream?

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you, Miss Arnold,’ the young woman said, hovering expectantly in the doorway. She wore a black dress and a crisp white apron. A white cap was perched atop her hair. ‘It’s after five o’clock. I thought you might want me to wake you so I can help you dress for dinner. I’m Morrison, I’m to be your lady’s maid for your stay here.’