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
I opened my mouth and closed it again, the insides sticky and dry. My face was squashed against the floor; from this angle I could see all the empty bottles, crisp packets, cigarette packets and food packaging that hadn’t made the bin. I closed my eyes. Rohan shook me, harder this time.
‘Abi! Stay with me! What happened? Are you hurt?’
I groaned.
‘And, Jesus, your paintings? Come on, let’s get you up.’ He rolled me over, then slid his hands under my shoulders and lifted me to a sitting position. I slumped forward, bile rising, and propped myself up on my hands.
‘Are you okay? Where does it hurt?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Jesus, Abi. Just, Jesus. What is this?’ He looked around at the devastation of the attic. ‘Who did this?’
I stayed still because it was the only way not to be hit by a new wave of nausea. Rohan got his phone out.
‘I’m calling the police,’ he said. ‘Whoever did this… I mean, how did they get in?’
‘No,’ I croaked. ‘No.’
Rohan stopped what he was doing on his phone. ‘What do you mean, “no”? Someone did this! We need to get the police involved. Catch them. It’s criminal damage. Jesus. Your exhibition…’ He shook his head, unable to process that there could be no exhibition. ‘Shit. Francesca. We’ve got to tell Francesca.’
‘It was me.’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’ My voice was louder now. ‘They were rubbish. You’re just humouring me. Both of you. How could you let me embarrass myself in public? I’m not a real artist. I’m not talented. I’m useless. These…’ I waved my hand at the destroyed canvases, ‘they were crap.’
‘You did this?’ Rohan’s mouth fell open, then his face crumpled. ‘No. Why would you? Why would you think they were bad?’ He squatted down next to me. ‘Who told you that? Who saw them?’ He paused and then his face changed. ‘Grace?’
I let my head sink into my hands. Rohan shook my shoulder.
‘Abi! Who did you show them to? Because these were incredible. I wasn’t lying. I would never “humour” you. These…’ He walked over to the desk and I saw too late that the folder was there, open. ‘These paintings were the best I’d ever seen. Francesca too. She was blown away by them. I can’t believe they’re…’ He closed his eyes and pulled a hand through his hair.