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 swallowed a sob and refused to look at him. His fingers played with the bracelet on my wrist, then stroked the top of my hand. I pulled it away.
‘If you tell me it’s what you want, I’ll walk away now,’ he said. ‘I’d never hassle you. But look me in the eye and tell me it’s what you want. Because I don’t believe you. Abi, look at me.’
He put a hand to my cheek and tried to turn my face. His fingers, long and slim, felt warm on my cheek. My eyes, full of tears, looked up at his beautiful face for the briefest second, then fell back down to the table. Inside my chest, there was a physical ache.
‘It’s what I want,’ I whispered.
Grace laughed when I told her I’d done it.
‘So we’re quits,’ she smiled. ‘We don’t need men. I’ll stick with you forever.’
It sounded like a threat.
Thirty
I painted all day. The next thing I knew, Grace was banging on the studio door.
‘Abs! Are you in there? I’m home! Do you want a drink?’
I sat back on my stool and dragged my focus away from the canvas. I’d been deeply involved in the details of this portrait. Although I had lights trained on the canvas, the room around them was dark. Through the black windows I could see the orange glow of the streetlights. When I painted, it was as if I were in a trance.
‘Abs!’ Grace yelled, knocking again on the door, more urgently this time. ‘Wakey, wakey! Are you in there?’
That sent a jolt through me. ‘Sorry! Just cleaning up!’ I shouted. ‘Why don’t you pour us something and I’ll be down in a sec?’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Later! When it’s finished!’ I called. I was going to have to tell her that I didn’t want her to see the pictures until the series was complete. The portraits, I’d realized, would tell a story as Grace grew older, and I didn’t want any comments from her to affect the way I portrayed her.
‘I’d love a vodka, though!’ I shouted. ‘I’m just cleaning my brushes and I’ll be down!’
‘Okay,’ she said, disappointment hanging in her voice, but I heard her steps retreat down the stairs. I turned the finished portraits so they couldn’t be seen if she even glanced inside the room, then I stood back and looked at my day’s work.