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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

‘Abs, where this came from, do you want to talk about it?’ she said, her eyes fixing onto mine, trying to see into my soul – and I could have told her. I could have told her that it came from the same place as did my nightmares, my grief, my shame, and my constant wish to die. And, for a glorious, heady moment I teetered on the brink of confiding in her – in saying the words out loud that might relieve the pressure inside me; words that could release me. I teetered on the brink of a world where I no longer carried this secret. Yes, for a moment, I fantasized about telling her, but to do so would change everything.

‘I can’t,’ I said.

Grace let my hands drop and shook her head. ‘What goes on in that mind of yours?’

I looked away, squeezing tears behind my eyelids. If she chose to see, she’d have an idea, because it was right there on the canvas. That’s what went on in my head. Relentlessly. Twenty-four/seven. I’d painted the contents of my head and it had been an epiphany: the feeling of relief was as if I’d been bursting to go to the bathroom and then I finally had. That sort of release. It had, temporarily, eased the pressure inside my head, and I had the same feeling now while I was painting the portrait. I knew that when I was up there in the attic, I wasn’t myself: I was channelling something that came from another dimension – it came through me and out onto the canvas – and I knew it had to come out because, if it stayed inside me, it would rot me from the inside out.

‘You know, you were lucky to have me as a friend at uni,’ Grace continued, her smile languid. ‘I think I can talk about this now as enough time’s passed, but you do know that, if it wasn’t for me, you’d have become a raging alcoholic, don’t you? Do you remember how much you used to drink?’ She raised an eyebrow and I thought with shame of the empty bottles in the recycling bin out the back.

‘Jesus, Abs,’ Grace said. ‘You could drink any guy under the table. I often came home and found you passed out on the sofa. I’d take you to bed and lie you on your side so you didn’t choke on your tongue. Many times, I slept on your tiny sofa because I was worried about you drowning in your own vomit.’ She drummed her nails on the table. ‘Also, without me, you’d be dead.’

She looked at me and I lowered my gaze as a hot flush swept through me. Grace was the only person who knew about that. There was too much to say, and I couldn’t say any of it.