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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

I should invite her to stay with us, of course. That’s what she wanted – that’s what was expected, but then… I stared into space as I weighed up the dilemma. I was older now. Stronger. Married. Living in a lovely home. Although she was as familiar to me as a favourite old shoe, there was no space for Grace in my life. I picked up my phone and clicked ‘reply’.

Dear Grace, I wrote, thumbing the words before I lost my resolve.

Lovely to hear from you! Sounds like you had a wonderful time in Australia, and how exciting to be moving back to London. Yes, I live in North London now, with my husband. I’m very busy with work but I’d be very happy to help you find somewhere to stay – if you give me an idea of budget and the sort of area you want to be in, maybe I could see what’s available. When are you planning to arrive? Cheers, Abi

Upstairs, a door slammed, and the noise ripped through the house like a gunshot. I jumped in my seat and Alfie, our cat, shot into the room, his claws skittering on the hard floor.

‘You got a shock, too?’ I said and he prowled, his tail fluffed up like a squirrel’s. Outside, the trees rustled, the first wind we’d had in days – weeks, it seemed. ‘It was just the wind,’ I said. ‘Nothing to be scared of, you wuss.’

I turned back to my phone and read the email again to myself, as pleased with myself as an alcoholic pushing away a drink, then I put the message into the ‘drafts’ folder – it was time to visit Mrs Keyson. Her husband was one of my patients at the hospice: a sparky, ex-fighter pilot, he was one of my favourites, but he didn’t have long left, and he missed his dog, Bruce. It was way beyond my remit as a volunteer, but I was going to paint a portrait for him to keep by his bedside.

Three

It was midday by the time I’d finished photographing the dog at Mrs Keyson’s and got off the bus at the High Street. I was sweating, my T-shirt damp against my back; the music in my AirPods drowning out the sound of whatever birds might have been singing. Summer was never easy for me; things that other people loved – the scent of a flower, or the slant of light at sunset – had the potential to tip me into a full-blown panic attack. I knew that now. I dealt with it.