‘But not tonight, Ellie. Let him have his way. It’s not worth it.’ Cat could hardly assemble her words into sentences. ‘Have I done something to offend him, is that it?’

‘If you have, I’ve no idea how. He’s really wound up about something, though. I know he always seems bad-tempered, but mostly I can talk him round and calm him down. Not tonight, though. Something has got under his skin, but I don’t see how it can have anything to do with you.’

‘If it is, whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Don’t fret about me, Ellie. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get in touch with Mum and Dad to let them know. Or James. He would have come for me, if your father wasn’t so eager to see the back of me.’

‘I’m sorry. I suppose it’s too late to phone him now. But Calman won’t mind taking you, I know that.’

Now Cat snapped. ‘It’s not the journey that bothers me. It’s being thrown out in the middle of the night like a disgraced Victorian housemaid. And there’s nothing you can do about that, Ellie, so you’d better leave me to my packing.’ Her voice cracked on the final word and she felt tears blocking her throat. So she got to her feet and closed the door in her friend’s face.

For the second time in a few days, she threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. How had it come to this? She’d made two friends since she’d left the Piddle Valley and in their different ways, they’d both totally let her down. How could the General treat her so cruelly? Without any reason that could justify such behaviour? No apology from him, either. And she wouldn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to Henry. At this thought, the tears rose again to choke her. She’d thought he was showing signs of returning her feelings, but that would never happen now. Who knew if they’d ever meet again, living at opposite ends of the country, in such different social circles.

How had this happened? Cat had somehow gone from being the bee’s knees to the shit on his shoe in the space of a day. It was as incomprehensible as it was mortifying. What would her parents think she’d done to cause this abrupt departure? How would she explain it to the Allens, who thought so highly of the Tilneys?

And the way the General had arranged things, without any consultation. She’d never heard of anything so high-handed, not in any of her father’s four parishes. Who did he think he was?

Then something struck her. Something she had done which, if it had been discovered, might have given offence. Not offence of the order of throwing her out in the middle of the night, but some umbrage. She dragged herself off the bed and opened her bag. She rummaged among her clothes, but the Bible with the bullet hole was exactly where she had left it, tucked under a pair of sweaters. So her single transgression had not been discovered. Cat debated whether to leave the book lying on the bed when she went, so they would know what she had discovered. Then she thought better of it. She would take it with her and perhaps ask her father what he thought it might mean.

The night passed heavily. She tried to go to sleep but she was too agitated and her mind refused to rest. She’d been frightened of imagined horrors in this room, but those shadows were meaningless compared to the abject misery that now held her captive. The strange noises of the wind and the sinister creaking of the old building no longer held any fear for her. Cat had real pain to blot them out.

Eventually, she gave up on sleep. She took a long shower, hoping in spite of the General’s obsession with good plumbing that the running water might keep him awake. Then she dressed and packed her bag. She sat on the edge of the bed, mute and miserable.

At half past five, there was a tap at the door. When Cat opened it, Ellie stood there with a tray. ‘I brought you some coffee and brioches,’ she said abjectly.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Cat said. She gave one last look round the room, picked up her bag and marched down the hall to the gallery. She humped her bag downstairs, glancing in at the dining room as she passed. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, she and Ellie had been laughing over breakfast, delighting in the General’s absence.

Ellie trailed behind her. ‘Email me, Cat. As soon as you get home. Let me hear from you as soon as you can, please? I won’t be able to settle till I know you’re back home safe. We can still be friends, Cat. We can still do the books together.’

Cat sighed. ‘Will your father allow you to be in touch with me?’

‘Oh, please. I’m not his prisoner. Look, I know I need to make changes. But it’s not easy. Be my friend. Help me.’

Before Cat could say more, Mrs Calman emerged from the kitchen. ‘Some sandwiches,’ she said briskly, handing Cat a carrier bag laden with food.

‘Thank you,’ Cat said, as dignified as she could manage.

‘Have you got enough money?’ Ellie asked desperately as Cat opened the front door. ‘Only, you’ve been gone from home a while, and I just thought ...’

Cat closed her eyes momentarily. She hadn’t even thought about money. ‘Can you lend me some?’

‘Wait there.’ Ellie ran upstairs like the wind. Mrs Calman stood silent as a pillar while they both waited for her return. Ellie thrust a bundle of notes into Cat’s hand. ‘There’s a hundred.’

‘That’s more than I need.’

‘Just take it.’

‘I’ll pay you back,’ Cat said. Another black mark against the General, who had never even considered how she might pay her way home.

‘No hurry,’ Ellie said. ‘Be in touch, yeah?’

Cat nodded and walked out the front door. Calman stood at ease by the car. She’d slipped so far down the pecking order that he wasn’t even wearing a tie. Calman’s cravat told her all she needed to know about her new position apropos the Tilney family. Loading her own bag into the boot, Cat pressed her lips firmly together. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her tears. However hard it might be, she was done with Northanger Abbey.

30

Calman spoke not a word during the journey, which Cat was grateful for, since she didn’t think she could open her mouth without howling like a baby. At that hour of the morning, they made good time and he pulled up in an unattractive side street near the railway station at a few minutes after seven. It didn’t look like a promising location for a coach station, but the bus for London was sitting in the morning sunshine with its door open.

Cat took her bag from the boot and hurried to collect her ticket. To her surprise, when she approached the coach, Calman was standing a few feet away, hands in his trouser pockets, looking more like a nightclub bouncer than the general factotum of a great house. Clearly he was waiting to make sure she boarded the coach. It added a whole new level of insult to being seen off the premises. What did he think she was going to do? Sneak back to Northanger and burn the place to the ground? Not that they didn’t deserve it, after the way they’d treated her. But she would show she was better than them. She gave Calman a little wave. ‘Do thank your wife for taking such good care of me,’ she said in her most gracious tones as she climbed aboard.

Her seat was halfway up the coach, by the window. Her hopes of being left alone to wallow in her misery were dashed when a black youth around her own age dropped into the seat next to her. ‘All right, pet?’ he greeted her. She gave him a pained smile and he laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to bother you.’ He plugged in his earphones and took a tablet computer out of his backpack. Inside a minute he was lost in a world of his own.

Cat was grateful for his disengagement. Seven and a half hours of being dragged into someone else’s concerns would have left her feeling even more murderous towards General Tilney, hard though that might be to credit. The journey itself had no terrors for her. She had plenty to think about and plenty of Hebridean Harpies to amuse her on her e-reader. The hard part was dragging her mind clear of Northanger Abbey.

She glanced at her watch. On the other side of the country, Henry would be sitting in the dining room at Woodston with his morning coffee and his bowl of cereal. She couldn’t believe he knew anything of what had happened, for he would surely have been in touch. Which reminded her, she hadn’t checked her phone to see if there were any messages. Not to mention the necessity of letting her parents know she was on her way home.

Cat rummaged in her daypack and fished out her phone. She thumbed the button to wake it up and nothing happened. She repeated her action, with no result. She pressed the power button but again there was no response. Realising the extent of her misfortune, Cat groaned out loud. She’d run the battery down during their car journey back from Woodston and she’d forgotten to charge it up again; the lack of signal at Northanger had broken her regular habit of plugging it in every night. And the charger was in her big bag, which was in the luggage locker somewhere under the coach. She was trapped in her isolation, unable to vent her feelings to anyone but herself.

The dead phone reminded her of how buoyant she’d felt on the journey back from Woodston. She’d posted photos of the house and the loch views to her Facebook page and tweeted her delight to the world. She’d even emailed a few pics to her parents, to let them see what a great time she was having. It had been a magical day. In spite of her terrible gaffe at Northanger, Henry was clearly pleased to see her and eager to spirit her off on her own. She couldn’t have wished for a better reaction to Bella’s ridiculous email. And he’d cared enough to ask about her future, as if it might concern him. She didn’t think she was imagining the undercurrent of affection that was building between them. This hollow feeling in her stomach when she thought of him was, she believed, a barometer of love.

And that day at Woodston, the General had been as genial as she’d ever seen him. Even Ellie had commented on his high opinion of her. So what could have happened to throw the switch from regard to contempt – for only contempt could have led to her abrupt dismissal. Surely Henry hadn’t told him about her night-time prowling and embarrassing suspicions? She couldn’t believe that of Henry, for what positive motive could he possibly have harboured for such a revelation? It wasn’t as if it was the sort of thing you could make a joke about – ‘Hey, Dad, Cat thinks you murdered my mother. Did you ever hear anything so funny?’ No, that one wouldn’t work, not even on the Fringe.

What would Henry think when he turned up at Northanger tomorrow evening to find them all gone? She was sure one of the Calmans would bring him up to speed. The question was whether they knew the true reason she’d been banished, which was more than she did herself. Cat wondered what they’d been told, because their behaviour had been at odds. Calman could not have been colder, while Mrs Calman, although she had said nothing, had provided her with enough food for a long weekend. So how would Henry react? Would he, like Ellie, acquiesce without protest in his father’s actions? Or would he be filled with regret and resentment? Would he be sufficiently moved to stand up to his father?

She doubted this last point. It was, she knew, hard to break the habit of a lifetime. And the General had so drilled his younger children in obedience that they struggled even to doubt his certainties. No, Henry would let her go. It was over before it had started. Over before he’d even kissed her properly – social air-kissing didn’t count, obviously.

Cat was so bound up in her thoughts and regrets that she barely noticed the passing of time or landscape. She almost welcomed the length and tedium of the journey, for once she had completed the second stage, another four hours on the coach from Victoria to Dorchester, she would be plunged into the necessity of explaining her precipitate return to her family and friends.

Although she longed to be back in their company after a month’s absence, Cat had no relish for an explanation that could only reflect badly on her. Even though she knew herself to be blameless, her mother and father, like all parents, would inevitably suspect their child had committed some sin so heinous or shaming she dared not admit to it. They might not go so far as to voice their views, but she knew that’s what they’d be thinking.

At that point, she was so depressed that she started on the sandwiches. Her last taste of Northanger, she thought as she bit into the rare roast beef, horseradish and lamb’s lettuce roll. Cat closed her eyes and savoured it. At least there were still some simple pleasures left to her.