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 didn’t have a dining table, so I dragged my desk into the centre of the room and set it as best I could and then I sat back and waited for her to come home. When she didn’t turn up at her usual time, I called her. Multiple times. I turned off the oven and opened the Prosecco. When I’d finished the bottle and the chicken started to dry out, I went to her room. From the lifts, I heard the pulse of music, the laughing, the shouts. I didn’t need to go to her door to know she was having a party. A party she hadn’t invited me to.
It was my fault, really. I should have told her what I’d planned. How was she to know?
‘God, I’m so sorry,’ Grace said, squashing up her face. ‘I just don’t. The meat industry. The planet.’ She fake-gagged, her eyes rolled up and her tongue stuck out. ‘I just can’t do it anymore. Look, don’t worry about me. I’m sure you’ve got something I can have – I’m easy to please, some pasta or something, or beans on toast – or maybe just the vegetables, but, please, you’ve gone to all this trouble, you eat the chicken. Don’t let me stop you.’
And so I carved the chicken and heaped Grace’s plate with roast potatoes and green beans – no gravy – and we sat and faced each other at the table. I looked at her plate.
‘It doesn’t look very interesting. And this was supposed to be a celebration,’ I said, standing quickly and spinning around so she couldn’t see the gleam of tears in my eyes. ‘Let me order you a pizza. There’s some arty place around here that does vegan pizzas. I think you can even have a cauliflower base if you’re gluten-free too? They deliver really quickly, or I can run out and get it. It’s not far.’ I pulled open the drawer that housed our takeaway menus and pulled out a handful.
‘Really?’ Grace perked up then looked back at her plate. ‘But no, this is fine. Sit back down. We can have the fancy pizzas another night. You’ve gone to all this effort. The least I can do is eat it. And I’m sure you’ve done dessert, right?’
‘Chocolate fondant,’ I said. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, absolutely.’ She forked a dry potato and put it resolutely in her mouth. ‘Yummy,’ she said. ‘You always did do a great roast potato.’