‘All of life is a journey,’ he said. ‘We may come and we may go, but we never truly leave any place where our heart has lived. No matter if it was for a minute or a lifetime.’

He continued to move the dolls around the house, and Lou watched his serious little face. How was it possible for a small child to talk with the wisdom of a man who had lived for a thousand lives? She may as well ask how it was possible to slip through time. She took Bertie in her arms and he let her squeeze him. She kissed him and got to her feet. ‘Goodbye, Bertie,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘À bientôt,’ Bertie said. Humming a tune, he opened the door of the miniature ballroom. Lou slipped away, made her way through the vestibule and let herself out of Hill House.

Trying to ignore the cold leeching through her thin blouse, Lou froze all thoughts from her mind and walked as fast as she could through the deep snow. She kept her eyes on the ground and picked up speed. Reaching the end of the drive, she paused to look up at the golden lions atop the gates. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped through.

The moment she crossed the boundary, she stopped dead, staring in utter disbelief at her feet. Of all the surreal events of the last few days, this was the most surreal of all. Her foot out on the pavement wore a battered trainer while her foot still on Hill House land wore a brown leather boot. She hesitated. It would be just as easy to take a step back as to go forward. No! She didn’t belong in that world of fancy boots. She belonged in the world of battered trainers where her brothers must be going out of their minds with worry that she had vanished for – how many days had it been …? Four days. Go now. Go now, and don’t look back.

Her back leg felt leaden as she forced it to join her other leg out on the pavement. Gone were the boots, the serge skirt and blue blouse, replaced by trainers, jeans and a parka. The natural order of things had been restored. She stamped on an empty beer can and kicked it towards the abandoned mattress and bags of rubbish.

20

22 December 2013

A mass of cars and vans flashed along the motorway, choking the air with exhaust fumes. The roar, once the soundtrack to Lou’s life, was so at odds with the peace of the world she had left behind. Although it hadn’t all been peace and gentility; scratch the surface of the early twentieth century, and it was as riven with emotional turmoil as the century that followed it. Stop it, Lou. For God’s sake, stop it! Without looking back, she crossed the footbridge, freezing drizzle soaking her hair.