BooksBarbecue
Back The House of Whispers Save as PDF
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

‘Can I leave this here for Mrs Keyson to pick up?’ I said. ‘It’s a painting I did of Mr K’s dog. You know: Bruce.’ We all knew about Mr K’s Bruce.

‘Aww, that’s so kind of you Abi,’ Moira said, tilting her head and smiling. ‘He’ll love that.’ She paused. ‘But you can give it to her yourself. She’s in there now.’ She nodded towards Mr K’s room.

‘Oh? She’s not usually in on a Tuesday?’

She shook her head again. ‘He’s not good.’ Pause. ‘We gave her a call.’

‘Oh,’ I said, my insides falling inside me. I held onto the counter for a moment. ‘Let me just pop it in there, then I’ll do the waters if that’s okay?’

‘Of course.’

Mr K’s room was the last on the right. I listened for a moment, then knocked softly and popped my head around the door. Mrs K sat beside the bed and she looked up, a weary smile breaking over her face as she saw me. Perhaps because her husband was in such a bad way, I’d imagined Mrs K to be diaphanous and brittle with age but she could have passed for twenty years younger than the late septuagenarian I knew she was – even today, with her face hollow with worry.

‘Abigail. Hello,’ she said.

‘Hey. How is he?’

She shook her head. ‘Not so good. I don’t know…’ She closed her eyes briefly then we both looked at Mr K. He was half propped up in bed, his eyes closed. His paper-white face was almost indistinguishable from his white hair, his collarbones protruded above the neckline of his T-shirt, and his arms – already bamboo sticks – were thinner than they’d been the previous week. The shape of his body under the blankets resembled that of a young child.

‘How long have you been here?’ I asked.

‘Most of the night.’

‘Do you want a break? I can sit with him for a bit?’

She shook her head. ‘No. I need to be here.’

‘Okay. Well, I’m here all day if you need me.’

Mrs Keyson nodded. ‘Thank you.’

I fished in my bag. ‘I finished the painting. Do you want to give it to him?’ I said, passing it to Mrs K.

‘Oh, thank you. It’s perfect,’ she said, her hand over her mouth as she took in the picture. ‘He’ll love it. You’ve really “got” him. That’s beautiful. Thank you.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Lennie, Abigail’s here. She’s done a painting of Brucie for you. So he can be here with you all the time, too. Look – she’s done such a good job. It’s just like him, isn’t it? Lennie, dear, can you hear me?’