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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

I waited longer, wondering at the direction of her steps. They continued but then, instead of returning to the main hall, they were upon the garret stair. I listened. Halfway up they stopped and I felt her attention return to me.

My heart thumped. I went to the door, where I pressed my cheek to the wood. There was silence then a warm, sour breath came through the keyhole. A faint perfume. I sprang back with abhorrence. In that moment, all Greer’s rudenesses ripped open my anger and I grabbed the handle and stepped out, but she had already gone. The passageway and attic stairs were empty.

Silence, and then a creak from the boards above. My hands were clutched tight as I looked up to Hettie’s room. I took a step forward to challenge her but something in me faltered.

And then I was back in my chamber, pulling my cases from the press and laying clothes at the bottom; a new life beckoning somewhere else, one with a cheerful household and kindly mistress, children whose worst crimes were revealed in the jam-stained mouths of pantry raids or the leaping out from behind curtains to give their nanny a scare. I could see myself bent over a stream, collecting spawn for the schoolroom, and nature walks, pockets of conkers, acorns and beech nuts to roast over the fire, and while I packed, I told myself that Mary was better off with me gone. Miss Gillies would get another nanny, someone better equipped than myself. I had suffered too much to bear the weight of Mary’s grief.

I dreamed of Edinburgh, the sound of hooves on cobbles, noise and crowds. I did not need to remain here.

I had made no promises. But by the time I had finished my face was wet with tears of betrayal.

20

The next day brought frost and the sky was blue with tufts of white cloud. Having made my decision to leave, I saw anew the island’s beauty – the way light made the colours of Skelthsea surreal – and felt sadness that it was not to be.

Guilt ate at me that, like Hettie, I planned to leave without warning. I could not meet Mary’s face in case she would read how my heart had turned. I imagined her, lost amongst the dusty rooms, with secrets and disfavour souring the air, shrinking further out of reach, further from well-being and hope.