One went riding to Thrushcross Grange and bobbed and curtsied and was polite to Mr Linton and his wife. That Catherine was kind to Isabella and utterly devoted to Edgar, taking great care that he should see no more than a fraction of what really lay in her mind and heart. She was meek and obedient and loving: the ladylike creature her parents had longed for.

The other Catherine Earnshaw lived at Wuthering Heights and witnessed daily scenes of such violence that she wondered if she would survive them.

Edgar doted on me, but he always stopped short of declaring his love. Sometimes he seemed on the brink of it, but then his mother would come in or his sister would join us. Something always killed the words before they fell from his lips.

And then, one morning when I was fifteen years old, Hindley announced he must make the journey to Gimmerton, the nearest town. There was business that needed doing and he’d not be back until nightfall. This was my chance to get Edgar on his own. I scribbled a note for the baker’s lad to carry to Thrushcross Grange and deliver into Edgar’s hands. That afternoon I asked Nelly to make me smart enough to receive him.

She was brushing my hair when Heathcliff came in, stinking of pig muck, leaves in his hair, half a field under his fingernails. Heathcliff declared that as Hindley was gone he was going to have himself a day’s rest.

The two Catherine Earnshaws collided. What was I to do? If I hadn’t sent the note to Edgar, I’d have gladly run off on the moors with Heathcliff. But Edgar was coming.

Heathcliff had seen the dress I was wearing and the way Nelly was arranging my hair.

“Are you expecting visitors?” he asked. His voice was as rough as his looks.

“You cannot take a day off,” I said. “Hindley will beat you when he finds out.”

“He won’t find out,” Heathcliff replied. “There’s no one to tell him.”

“Edgar will be calling,” I confessed.

“Have Nelly say you’re busy. Don’t turn me out for that pitiful friend of yours.”

Suddenly Nelly’s clumsy fiddling with my hair annoyed me. “Nelly!” I said. “Stop now. Leave me alone.”

“Look there on the wall,” Heathcliff said, and pointed to the calendar nailed to it. “I’ve marked a cross for the days you’ve spent with Edgar and a dot for the ones you’ve spent with me.”

My throat tightened with guilt when I saw how Edgar’s days outdid his. Heathcliff had noticed then, when I thought he didn’t give a jot. He’d noticed. What did that mean? Words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them, words that made no sense and did nothing but hurt both of us. “Why should I spend my time with you? You never have anything to say!”

If I’d been able to rake those words out of the air before they’d reached Heathcliff’s ears, I’d have done so. The look on his face was terrible to see. And at that moment there was the clatter of a horse’s hooves and Edgar was tapping gently on the door. He stepped in as Heathcliff stormed out.