Chapters (82)
- Cover
- Praise for The House of Whispers
- Title Page
- Note to Readers
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Twelve
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Twenty-Five
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Forty-Two
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Forty-Eight
- Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Priory Hospital North London: 20 December 2019
- Acknowledgements
- About the Publisher
‘And turning up drunk, or smelling of alcohol? It’s not on. It’s simply not on, Abi.’ Her voice rose here and I realized how angry she was. I’d thought she hadn’t noticed. ‘Imagine what the relatives think when they see their loved ones around someone who looks and smells like she slept rough.’ Moira paused and stared at me until I squirmed, then she began again in a gentler tone. ‘If you need help, I can recommend people. We can get you the help you need. Alcohol’s a highly addictive substance. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ She opened the desk drawer and held out a leaflet: Am I an alcoholic?
‘No, thank you. I… I’m not an alcoholic. I’m fine.’ My voice was a whisper. Everything was so much effort this morning. ‘I’m just painting for an exhibition. It takes over everything.’
Moira sighed. ‘Well, that may be. I’ve no idea how the artistic mind works – but I’ve thought about this and discussed it with the powers-that-be and I’m sorry to have to ask you not to come back until you’re able to guarantee your reliability and focus on the job in hand. I’m not saying never. I’m saying take a break, and get in touch once you have things under control again. You’re a good volunteer and I don’t want to lose you. But we can’t continue like this. Does that sound reasonable?’
Tears sprung to my eyes and I squeezed my lips together to try and stop them from spilling out. ‘Yes, yes it does. Thank you.’
Moira pushed a box of tissues towards me. ‘All right. Well, stay in touch. Let me know how you’re getting on. And if you need help, it’s here.’ She pushed the leaflet towards me again and, with that, she was gone, leaving me with a devastating sense of failure and loss.
It was a feeling I knew well.
Thirty-Six
The decision to kill myself hadn’t been one I’d made slowly. I’d simply woken up one morning a few weeks into the first term of university with the weight of the world on me and known I couldn’t surface through it. I couldn’t carry on anymore. It had been that simple. The decision on how to do it had taken far longer.