‘Interesting,’ he said.

She went on. ‘It was rumoured that De Glossope murdered her and disposed of her body, to free him to travel abroad with his mistress, Evelyne Tyler, a former housemaid in their previous home, who bore him three children, each of whom died in infancy. Evelyne subsequently fell to her death from the roof of the house. Did she fall or was she pushed? We’ll never know. De Glossope was trampled to death by his own horse only weeks after.’

‘Does it say how old Glossope was?’ Jason asked, finally drying off his hands on a kitchen towel.

‘How old?’

‘Yes. Does it give his age, or how old he was when he died?’

She read on, briefly. ‘Yes, here! Shit – it says he was killed while out hunting, the day before his fortieth birthday.’

64

Wednesday 19 December

‘Great,’ Jason said, grimly.

Jason walked across, took the book and studied the entry himself, conscious that Emily was watching him closely. As he read, he was thinking back to his conversation on Sunday with horrible Albert Fears.

‘Thirty-nine, are you? Birthday anytime soon?’

‘Are you going to bring me a present?’

The smirk on the old man’s face. ‘Dunno if I’ll need to. No one in the big house ever lived beyond forty.’ He’d raised his tankard. ‘Good health, you and your pretty wife. Long life – eh?’

But Jason was also thinking back to something much more recent. To the recording he had made during this past night, of Emily talking in her sleep. He pulled out his phone and played it, turning the volume up.

A male voice began to recite names.

‘Oliver, Caro, Jade, Johnny, Rowena, Felix, Daisy, Harry, Brangwyn, Matilda, Evelyne.’

She looked at him, bewildered. ‘What’s this?’

‘Recognize any of the names?’

She listened as the playback continued. ‘Brangwyn, Matilda, Evelyne.’

‘Who’s talking, Jason? Whose voice is that?’

He paused the playback. ‘That was two thirty-three this morning. You were talking in your sleep, except it wasn’t your voice.’

‘That is not me,’ she retorted. ‘Absolutely no way is that my voice.’

‘It was you talking.’

‘What do you mean?’

He turned the screen to face her and played it again.

She stared, mesmerized, watching the replay of herself reciting these names. It was dark and fuzzy, but unmistakeably her speaking, she could see her lips moving.

But it was a stranger’s voice coming out.

A male.

Watching it creeped her out. She looked back down at the pages of the book. ‘Sir Brangwyn de Glossope, Matilda Warre-Spence, Evelyne Tyler? I never heard those names before in my life, until I read them just now. Jason, I didn’t know them last night. No way.’ She began shaking. ‘How?’ she blurted. ‘I – I – oh God, how? How did they get into my head? I must have been having a dream – a nightmare. How did I say those names? What was going on? Was someone speaking through me?’

He grabbed a pen and the kitchen notepad, then started the recording from the top, stopping and starting after each name, in turn, writing them down.