badly.
I hadn’t entirely forfeited his good opinion since he seemed willing to believe that I’d run temporarily mad. He was still holding the door open for me, but only just. It was down to me whether or not I chose to walk back to a familiar existence. Oliver had been good to me. He’d cared for me, paid for me, given me a comfortable home—a very comfortable home, I amended, looking around me. And in exchange I had given companionship, friendship, even a tepid love, but also my freedom. That was the most frightening thought, and I could no longer avoid the truth.
I had sacrificed freedom: Oliver had always to know where I was and what I was doing; he had to have first call on my time and my attention. Outside this house, I had little life. Friends were absent. Not that I’d ever had many, a few acquaintances from my student days, but they had disappeared soon after I’d moved into Lyndhurst Villas. Oliver had gently persuaded me to let them go. They weren’t up to my weight, he’d said; I was worthy of more interesting company, or rather company that he considered interesting. My life was lived on his terms, but until now I’d been happy to accept them. If I chose not to walk back through that door, if I walked the other way, what then? Nine years of my life wasted. Nine years in which I’d convinced myself that being Oliver’s helpmate was what I wanted. It had been an easy life, and I’d been happy for much of it. Oliver could be charming, an interesting, intelligent man, a man who was going places. I’d wanted to go there with him, and I had. But I didn’t like where I’d arrived. That was the nub of it.
I walked downstairs and for some reason remembered Mr Merrick. Perhaps ever so faintly he represented a new beginning, the first infant steps to independence. Whatever the reason, he deserved a phone call, even a belated one.
‘I’m afraid I’ve found out little more than you already know,’ I began.
‘The building was a school?’
‘Definitely a school. It was called the Raine Foundation—Raine Street was where it started. Originally it housed only boys. The section of the building you’re hoping to make your home was an addition, built in 1845.’
‘To accommodate more pupils?’
‘To accommodate female pupils for the first time. They were there until the 1880s when the entire school left Silver Street to move to different premises. Over the years the school kept moving, though always within the East End.’
He was quiet at the other end of the line and I felt that in some way I should be apologising. ‘What I’ve found isn’t likely to solve your ghost problems, I’m afraid.’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘But do you think there’s more to discover?’
‘There may be.’ I knew I was sounding reluctant.
‘Then discover it if you can, Dr Latimer.’
‘I’ll try.’
My promise was half-hearted. At any other time I might have tried digging deeper, but chasing ghosts hardly chimed with my present mood. I wasn’t entirely sure what my mood was, but I poured myself a glass of Oliver’s very best red and sat down to think. That bright, fresh-faced young woman, Rebecca, was she to be the new Grace? Of course she might simply be another of the many women who flocked around Oliver in starry-eyed appreciation. His groupies, I used to tease him. He was an eminent man, as much at home in front of a television camera as in the lecture hall, and for years he’d attracted plenty of distant worship. But that had never been sufficient for him: he required daily and meticulous attention, and he was no longer getting it. Rebecca would make my perfect substitute. I’d been angry at the thought that I might be supplanted, but that had been a knee-jerk reaction. Now that the anger had passed I tried to think through my feelings and was surprised at what I found. I should be riven with jealousy, but I wasn’t, or only mildly so—rather I was curious as to what might happen in Newcastle.
I hadn’t entirely forfeited his good opinion since he seemed willing to believe that I’d run temporarily mad. He was still holding the door open for me, but only just. It was down to me whether or not I chose to walk back to a familiar existence. Oliver had been good to me. He’d cared for me, paid for me, given me a comfortable home—a very comfortable home, I amended, looking around me. And in exchange I had given companionship, friendship, even a tepid love, but also my freedom. That was the most frightening thought, and I could no longer avoid the truth.
I had sacrificed freedom: Oliver had always to know where I was and what I was doing; he had to have first call on my time and my attention. Outside this house, I had little life. Friends were absent. Not that I’d ever had many, a few acquaintances from my student days, but they had disappeared soon after I’d moved into Lyndhurst Villas. Oliver had gently persuaded me to let them go. They weren’t up to my weight, he’d said; I was worthy of more interesting company, or rather company that he considered interesting. My life was lived on his terms, but until now I’d been happy to accept them. If I chose not to walk back through that door, if I walked the other way, what then? Nine years of my life wasted. Nine years in which I’d convinced myself that being Oliver’s helpmate was what I wanted. It had been an easy life, and I’d been happy for much of it. Oliver could be charming, an interesting, intelligent man, a man who was going places. I’d wanted to go there with him, and I had. But I didn’t like where I’d arrived. That was the nub of it.
I walked downstairs and for some reason remembered Mr Merrick. Perhaps ever so faintly he represented a new beginning, the first infant steps to independence. Whatever the reason, he deserved a phone call, even a belated one.
‘I’m afraid I’ve found out little more than you already know,’ I began.
‘The building was a school?’
‘Definitely a school. It was called the Raine Foundation—Raine Street was where it started. Originally it housed only boys. The section of the building you’re hoping to make your home was an addition, built in 1845.’
‘To accommodate more pupils?’
‘To accommodate female pupils for the first time. They were there until the 1880s when the entire school left Silver Street to move to different premises. Over the years the school kept moving, though always within the East End.’
He was quiet at the other end of the line and I felt that in some way I should be apologising. ‘What I’ve found isn’t likely to solve your ghost problems, I’m afraid.’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘But do you think there’s more to discover?’
‘There may be.’ I knew I was sounding reluctant.
‘Then discover it if you can, Dr Latimer.’
‘I’ll try.’
My promise was half-hearted. At any other time I might have tried digging deeper, but chasing ghosts hardly chimed with my present mood. I wasn’t entirely sure what my mood was, but I poured myself a glass of Oliver’s very best red and sat down to think. That bright, fresh-faced young woman, Rebecca, was she to be the new Grace? Of course she might simply be another of the many women who flocked around Oliver in starry-eyed appreciation. His groupies, I used to tease him. He was an eminent man, as much at home in front of a television camera as in the lecture hall, and for years he’d attracted plenty of distant worship. But that had never been sufficient for him: he required daily and meticulous attention, and he was no longer getting it. Rebecca would make my perfect substitute. I’d been angry at the thought that I might be supplanted, but that had been a knee-jerk reaction. Now that the anger had passed I tried to think through my feelings and was surprised at what I found. I should be riven with jealousy, but I wasn’t, or only mildly so—rather I was curious as to what might happen in Newcastle.
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