‘If I have a fever,’ I blurted, tired of being spoken of as if I were not there, ‘it is because I have spent two days locked in a room without food or water.’
‘You see, the delirium persists,’ said David sadly.
‘Oh dear,’ said Dr Middleton. ‘That is a great shame.’
They went outside the room and conferred with one another.
When they came back, they spoke to me, so convincingly and with such persuasive art, that I begin to feel that perhaps it was all some kind of fever dream. I know I have the testimony of this diary, but can I truly say that I was in my right mind when I wrote those words? I no longer know.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Jenna. ‘She’s been masterfully gaslighted by a pair of pre-pubescent girls.’
‘She’s been what?’
‘Gaslighted. Made to doubt herself and what really happened to her. I think she really was locked in that room. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps she really is a bit wrong upstairs.’
Jenna shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. She writes so clearly. There’s no hint of disturbance, although the behaviour of the girls is obviously getting to her.’
‘Really getting to her,’ Jason added. ‘Plus the sudden proposal thing. It could throw you off course. And the doctor reckons she’s ill too.’
‘I still think she’s been played.’
‘By kids?’
‘And the staff. I don’t know. The girls have something to gain if they can stop the wedding. They’re obviously enraged at the thought of losing their inheritance. The staff . . . I’m not so sure. Perhaps they just feel for the girls, or they’re loyal to the first Lady Harville in a kind of Mrs Danvers way.’
‘Mrs who?’
‘You haven’t read Rebecca?’
‘No, but I might have shagged her, back in the day.’
‘Oh, stop it. It’s a book, a gothic drama in which the second wife of a rich man is made very uncomfortable by the housekeeper, who remains obsessed with the dead first wife.’
‘What, like, in a lesbian kind of way?’
‘Most likely. I mean, the book was written a long time ago so they wouldn’t have made that kind of thing explicit, but you don’t have to read far between the lines.’
‘Ah, shame. There could have been some hot girl-on-girl scenes.’
Jenna sighed.
‘I can see I’m going to have to educate you.’
‘Ooh, please do.’
He smooched into the curve of her neck and shoulder, rapacious still, despite their comprehensive earlier exertions.
‘On the subject of great literature and general know-ledge,’ said Jenna sternly. ‘You don’t need much education as far as . . . hanky panky . . . goes.’
He laughed.
‘Hanky panky? Nobody calls it that.’
She giggled with him. ‘It is a bit daft,’ she agreed. ‘Not as bad as rumpy pumpy, though. That one’s enough to turn you right off.’
Jason tapped the diary page.