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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

After I’d had some lunch and made a bit of a fuss of Alfie, who was unused to me going out for so long, I climbed the stairs up to the second bedroom. The door was closed: Rohan and I had gone bit by bit with the house renovation – the kitchen and bathrooms our priorities, then the living area and the master bedroom. This room was still largely untouched; a space neither of us had cause to use. I stood outside the door for a moment and took a breath, then pushed it gently open.

Inside, the air was cold and musty – neglected – yet I had the feeling that I’d disturbed something. Was there a rustling? Or the echo of a rustling? I peered at the room. The bed and dresser we’d inherited from the previous occupants looked dejected, as if waiting for their owner to return. I kicked the leg of the bed, thinking to send any potential mice skittering, but of course we had a cat so there were no mice, and the room answered with a silence that caused the hairs on my arms to stand on end.

I skirted around the bed and opened the wardrobe, catching as I did so an echo of the scent that had steeped into the wood – something floral, and soft, like talcum powder. A few wooden hangers still remained on the rail and, on the floor, there was a pair of flip-flops, the ancient print of a foot embossed on the thin, cracked rubber. I slid a foot gently into one. Cinderella.

Replacing the shoe carefully, I pulled out the fabric of the flowery curtains and sneezed. The pattern was faded from bearing witness to thousands of sunrises, but the fabric was sound – with a good vacuum and a clean, they’d do. I pushed open the window, letting fresh air rush into the room, and looked around. A springclean, a lick of polish on the wardrobe… It wouldn’t be such a big deal to invite Grace to stay, and if Rohan was going to be working in New York… I bit my lip and my heart thumped. Would he acually go without me?

The bed creaked a little as I sat down on the edge, then I swung my legs up and let myself sink back, my body suddenly heavy – pulled down by something more than gravity. It was as if the bed itself wanted to feel my weight on it; as if it were drawing me in, the mattress wrapping itself around the contours of my body as I settled into the dips and rises made by the past owner. My nose prickled with dust.