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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’d like to go to the theatre.’

‘Oh. Okay. Anything in particular you’d like to see? Comedy? Thriller? Watford Palace is bound to have something coming up.’

But Grace laughed. ‘Watford Palace? That sounds like a football club. I want to see a musical. One of those all-singing, all-dancing West End shows,’ Grace said. ‘You know, with a cast of hundreds and a live orchestra. I’ve never, ever been to one – can you believe it? I was thinking Matilda, Phantom, Les Mis. Something like that?’

‘Oh. Oh, I see. Okay. Well…’ I shrugged and Grace peered at me.

‘Are you still scared of crowds? Don’t worry. I’ll look after you. We’ll be fine.’

‘Okay,’ I said, not wanting to admit that she’d hit the nail on the head. Even Rohan knew I didn’t ‘do’ city centres. ‘I’ll have a look online and see what’s available.’

I put tickets to the matinée of Phantom of the Opera on my credit card, and Grace and I rattled into the West End on the Tube on Saturday morning. She dozed next to me while I kept a lid on my anxiety by repeating ‘happy place, happy place, happy place’ to myself. I shut my eyes and visualized the attic with the sun pouring in through the open window, a fresh easel set up, and all my paints and brushes waiting for me. I imagined the smell of the paints and the new canvas, and focused on breathing deeply and evenly. I let myself fall almost into a trance, as I pushed away the thought that I was in a tin can speeding through a tunnel under the ground. When we surfaced at Charing Cross, I gasped in the filthy city air like a dying fish on the deck of a trawler.

‘Let’s walk through Covent Garden!’ Grace said. ‘I love this part of town. It’s so alive!’

That was certainly one word for it. The piazza was thrumming with people and a street act had drawn a large crowd. I kept my head down and my arm linked through Grace’s as we skirted around the edge of the crowd, trying not to stumble on the cobbles. Every now and again the crowd roared with laughter or burst into applause. The street artist was shouting through a megaphone and the noise sucked the energy out of me, leaving me jumpy and ragged. Grace, I could see, was in her element.

‘God, I’ve missed this so much!’ she laughed, letting go of me and spinning around to take in the people, the shopfronts – the busyness – of the scene. ‘I could sit and people-watch here all day! It’s so interesting! I mean, look at those two. Look what they’re wearing! I’ve never seen anything like it. You can tell I’ve been in the Outback too long, can’t you?’