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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

The rain, already hard, increased its intensity, a frenzy of water pummelling Grace, me and the ground, as if it were trying to wash the memory of that terrible evening from the fabric of the universe.

Ten years of shame ignited inside me. ‘How dare you?’ I hissed. ‘How dare you stand here and throw accusations at me. You have no idea! No idea what it was like! There’s not a day goes by I don’t think about it! Not a moment I don’t think about her. I atone for what I did, every single day! Everything I do, I do it for her!’ I flung my arms out. ‘I’ve never driven a car since that day! I won’t have children because she can’t have them! I work at the hospice in honour of her! Is that not enough? Aren’t I doing enough because I don’t know what else I can do! It’s been ten years! Ten years!’ I sobbed.

‘Yet you’ve never been back!’ Grace shouted, her voice snagging in the wind. ‘You’ve never been to her grave! And don’t tell me you apologized to her parents because I know it’s not true. You never admitted what you did!’

‘Please,’ I begged. ‘I need to move on. She’s dead. I can’t change that! Let me live my life!’

‘You took her life! You don’t deserve a life!’ Grace stared at me, dripping from the rain, her face ugly with pain, and I realized I would never win. No matter what I did, I would never make this right. My life unfurled ahead of me, and I would never, ever be able to put this behind me.

‘I’m going!’ I shouted. I ran back up the path to the village green, my finger stabbing at my phone to find an Uber, listening for the sound of Grace’s footsteps chasing after me, anticipating the feel of her fists pounding on my back, her hands clawing at my arms. But when the Uber pulled up and I finally dared to look back, I saw the shape of her standing with her head bowed, back at the accident site.

‘Let’s go!’ I snapped as I slammed the door behind me. ‘Now!’

Maybe the driver looked astonished. Maybe he said something, but I didn’t hear. The rain drummed on the roof of the car and I was far away: I was in Dad’s car, ten years ago, on the day I got my own A-level results.

Fifty-Five