BooksBarbecue
Back The Whistling Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. EPIGRAPH
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. Part Two
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. Part Three
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

She rang the bell for Greer to attend and rose carefully from the chair, resting a hand on the arm to steady herself. ‘Excuse me. I’m a poor conversationalist this evening and now I must be off to my bed.’

Greer came so quietly that I did not hear her until she was behind me and there was a murmur of conversation followed by the sound of retreating feet.

When the clock chimed the half-hour, I decided that I too would retire. The corridors were silent. At Mary’s door, I paused and put an ear to the wood. From somewhere inside came whispering. Carefully, I went in. Mary lay on her back, one arm flung out of the covers. She was clearly asleep. I scanned the room – nothing. Apart from the faint rush of the sea, there was only silence. Yet there remained on my ear the memory of a childish tongue and the undulation of speech. Mary’s face was still, so still it was hard to believe that she had uttered a word as she dreamed but I stayed listening until, growing cold, I left for my own room.

In my bedchamber, I was aware again of a creeping of some other feeling – beyond numbness and pain, beyond Greer’s dislike, not anything I could name, but which was uncomfortable. I tried to dismiss it and told myself that I was being fanciful, but the spaces bloomed unhealthily.

I emptied water into the basin and cupped it in my hands, bringing it to my cheeks. But as I enjoyed the iciness of it, there was a deeper chill at my neck, something colder than the room itself. Letting the water trickle through my fingers, I gazed down at my reflection and in the ripples another face loomed over mine. I gasped, shock bolting through me. I blinked, willing my mind to dismantle the image, but when I opened my eyes again the face shivered into something pale and smooth – no features, just an oval globe. I whipped round but there was nothing, just the thudding of my heart and the bitter air.

With trembling legs, I got beneath the covers. The rasp of fear was in my quickened breath.

‘All is not well. You feel it, don’t you?’

9

I woke to the dripping of rain and a puddle of water that had gathered on the sill. When I opened the curtains, the island was smudged by a steady downpour. Angus passed below with sacks, shoring up the gaps beneath doors. The boat was due and with it the doctor.