Before Father was even cold in his grave, Hindley had demoted Heathcliff from family member to servant. Heathcliff was ordered about, Hindley’s words falling like clods of earth on a coffin lid. Heathcliff was no longer to dine with us at table but to keep to the back kitchen with Nelly and the farm lads. Heathcliff was to receive no more lessons alongside me but to work for his keep.

It was harsh and cruel and it went against Father’s wishes, but in truth it came as no great surprise to Heathcliff and me. To begin with we carried on much as before. Heathcliff was banished out of doors. So what? We preferred the open air in any case. I joined Heathcliff in the fields if there was work that needed doing and if not we’d run off across the moors. I attended my lessons as usual and in the evenings I passed on everything I’d learned to Heathcliff.

Hindley liked to chastise us. He’d order Heathcliff to be flogged, and if he could find no one to carry out the beating, he’d do it himself. Hindley would lock me in my room and deprive me of my dinner. But such things had no power to touch us. The more tyrannical Hindley grew, the more reckless we became. Heathcliff and I were engaged in a battle with Hindley and having our old enemy back brought us closer than ever. We plotted against my brother. We would pay him back one day, we solemnly swore. We noted every blow, every harsh word, every withheld meal and we would re pay it and then some when the time came. We would have our revenge one day. We would see Hindley in the ground and send his wife packing and then the two of us would dance together on his grave.

*

Our plans for the future – such as they were – changed one Sunday. I’d ridden to church as usual with Hindley and Frances and been preached at for an hour or more about Hell and damnation. We’d ridden back and now the afternoon stretched out ahead of us, long and tedious. We sat in the parlour, Frances perched on her husband’s knee talking foolish nonsense, hogging all the heat from the fire, while I sat shivering in a corner.

I did something wrong, though I don’t know what: sneezed, maybe, or breathed too loudly in their presence. Whatever it was, I was sent out of the room in punishment, ordered to sit in the kitchen, read my bible and pray. But if I was out of the room and out of Hindley’s sight, I might as well be out of the house too, I thought. I lifted the latch and slipped out in search of Heathcliff.

We ran faster and further than we’d ever gone that day. I’d lost my shoes in the bog and the light was beginning to fade. But instead of turning for home we turned our backs to Wuthering Heights and looked in the other direction.