I think of my parents, my brother, friends, aunts, uncles, the fiancé I knew so fleetingly, all snatched from us, and fall to mourning for all that has passed and all that cannot be. The questions rise up in me: where are they now, are they looking down on us, do they see me here in her arms, do they judge me, is that why I must lose them all, is this punishment for what I have chosen to feel and chosen to love?

The spiral begins again, and I hold Anne tight in the hope that she will not let me fall far. This time, though, she has her own grief and I cannot allow myself to fall into mine when she needs me. We need each other now more than ever.

Miss Lister

There is space in the Lister corner of the church for me. Me and Marian. Are we the last two? The space will be full then. The end of the Listers, as if the place assigned for our coffins knew before we did, that we would be the end of the line. There are some cousins in Wales and America, but what would they care of little Shibden? Although much improved by my additions, there is so much work still to be done. But I have the rest of my life for that. Right now, while I am still healthy and have a companion to take with me, the world awaits.

I look around at the weekly congregation and no longer see the faces of friends. They are just people whose lives once crossed with my own. Do any of them care for Miss Lister, Miss Walker and Shibden? Would any of them wonder where we went if we were to disappear? Would any of them anticipate our return? Perhaps it is my own fault for not being as great a philanthropist as others in the region. I never felt I had spare income for that, but perhaps that is what would have made the faces kinder to me. Shutting myself away at Shibden, remaining within the same narrow circle of friends may have kept me from my people. I delved into Halifax politics and the Literary and Philosophical society but never felt welcome in either.

I like to think I have cared for my friends and tenants and helped where I could, but I never felt as though I was from Halifax, just from Shibden. I am Anne Lister of Shibden Hall. It is its own small island in Yorkshire of which I am now solely in charge. From when I first moved in with my aunt and uncle, it was Shibden I loved. Although I would leave it, I would always call it home, miss it, return to it and seek to improve it.