CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Freya couldn’t say what drove her back to the Vicarage in those last days. It felt important to see the place one more time, so that she could leave it fully behind her. As with her own cottage the day before, she moved through the lifeless building, seeing and remembering. Ghosts assumed themselves in the shadows; two women enjoying scones and brandy and civil conversation. Whispered words carried on the dusty air. She found that she felt strangely at home in the darkness, in a building where she had always previously felt stifled.
The last diary she read was her own, “Freya Harriet Heart” written in small letters across the cover. She hadn’t been surprised when she found it in the bookcase. She thought that she remembered it, from years gone; the escape of a school
