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Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for The House of Whispers
  3. Title Page
  4. Note to Readers
  5. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  19. Twelve
  20. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  25. Sixteen
  26. Seventeen
  27. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  32. Twenty-One
  33. Twenty-Two
  34. Twenty-Three
  35. Twenty-Four
  36. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  37. Twenty-Five
  38. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  39. Twenty-Six
  40. Twenty-Seven
  41. Twenty-Eight
  42. Twenty-Nine
  43. Thirty
  44. Thirty-One
  45. Thirty-Two
  46. Thirty-Three
  47. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  48. Thirty-Four
  49. Thirty-Five
  50. Thirty-Six
  51. Thirty-Seven
  52. Thirty-Eight
  53. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  54. Thirty-Nine
  55. Forty
  56. Forty-One
  57. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  58. Forty-Two
  59. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  60. Forty-Three
  61. Forty-Four
  62. Forty-Five
  63. Forty-Six
  64. Forty-Seven
  65. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  66. Forty-Eight
  67. Transcript of interview with Mr Rohan Allerton, husband of Abigail Allerton: 20 December 2019
  68. Forty-Nine
  69. Fifty
  70. Fifty-One
  71. Fifty-Two
  72. Fifty-Three
  73. Fifty-Four
  74. Fifty-Five
  75. Fifty-Six
  76. Fifty-Seven
  77. Fifty-Eight
  78. Fifty-Nine
  79. Sixty
  80. Priory Hospital North London: 20 December 2019
  81. Acknowledgements
  82. About the Publisher

Did she say it just to annoy me? To remind me? We’d gone together to a spa once when we were students – her idea, of course. It wasn’t my thing at all so I’d flopped about, bored and out of place, in the plush white dressing gown as she’d ricocheted from facial to massage to pedicure to spa pool, then she shot back to London early, claiming work, and left me with the bill.

‘Yes,’ I said with a smile. ‘Why don’t you?’

Thirty-Eight

Rohan was taking the red-eye out after work on the night of 30 October, and was due to land in the morning of 31 October: Hallowe’en. I stayed up all night painting yet, as the sun rose, my concentration faded and I paced the attic, brush in hand, unable to work. Grace was faffing about in her room and it worried me that she might suddenly change her mind and stay. The thought of her meeting Rohan – of her saying something snide – of her voicing her opinion of him at all – was too much to bear.

I looked down at the street from the attic window. It was a grey day, a day in which the slate of the sky leached the colour from everything. A handful of houses had made the effort to decorate for Hallowe’en, the hedges gradually disappearing beneath the tangle of white, shop-bought cobweb. On pathways and front walls, pumpkins had appeared, so roughly hacked at by the children of the houses that their toothy grins were more gruesome than perhaps intended: lopsided gashes in the flesh and eyes in places too horrific to be natural.

After an hour of looking at my canvas and failing to land a single brush stroke, I downed tools.

‘Hey,’ I said, knocking at Grace’s door. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Sure.’

She was sitting on the bed, a small overnight bag open next to her. ‘Checking I’m really going?’ she asked with only half a smile.

I tutted. ‘’Course not.’ I stood with my back to the window so I didn’t have to look at the creepy row of toys. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘Raw-food and health retreat.’ She paused. ‘Down in Kent. Near Canterbury.’

I swallowed. ‘Nice. Got your yoga pants?’

She laughed. ‘There is a lot of yoga. Meditation, too. Sound meditation and chanting. I’ve always wanted to try those.’

‘Sounds good.’ I looked at my watch, my heart chittering with anxiety. ‘So, do you have a cab coming?’

‘I’m taking the train.’

‘Ah, okay.’

Grace looked around the room, then zipped up her bag. ‘Right. I think I’ve got everything.’

‘I’m sure they’ll have anything you might have forgotten,’ I said. ‘As long as you have your wallet.’

She peered into her handbag. ‘Yep. Got that.’ She looked around the room again and exhaled loudly. ‘Should I take Teddy? I’ve kind of grown fond of him.’