I was sitting at the window looking towards the rise of the hill, wishing I could leave my body behind and fly to the Heights. I wanted to be on the moor with Heathcliff, not as we were now but back when Father was alive and the two of us tumbled like puppies in the heather.

Nelly was pestering me, handing me something, telling me to read it. I had not the energy.

“It’s a letter,” Nelly said. “Shall I break the seal? Shall I read it to you? It’s from Mr Heathcliff.”

The mention of his name brought me back to some sort of life. Nasty, prying, interfering Nelly! What would she do then? Go running to Edgar?

I’ve no idea what was in the letter. For then I heard Heathcliff’s steps in the hall and there he was and I was in his arms. He was holding me so tight, kissing me so hard, I thought the two of us would merge into one.

“Cathy,” Heathcliff said. “Oh my life. How can I bear it?”

I leaned back so I could see his eyes. There was neither hope nor pity in them. Heathcliff knew I was dying and he was in agony. I was filled with a sudden fury at the thought of leaving him. For he had done this. He was to blame.

“You have killed me, Heathcliff,” I said. “You and Edgar have broken my heart between you. And now you both mourn and ask me to pity your suffering. But I shall give you none. You’ve killed me and thrived on it. How strong you are! How many years will you live after I am gone?”

Heathcliff tried to pull away, but I wound my fingers in his hair. I wanted to hurt. “I wish I could hold you till we’re both dead!” I cried. “I wouldn’t care if you suffered. Why shouldn’t you? I do. Will you be happy when I’m in the ground? Will you forget me? Will you say twenty years hence, ‘That’s the grave of Catherine Earnshaw. I loved her once and was sad to lose her, but I’ve loved others since. My children are dearer to me than she was.’ At your death will you rejoice to come to me or will you be sorry to leave them?”