It’s a plant. I hadn’t heard of it until I looked up the name Speedwell, after our first tour with the real estate agent. Veronica chamaedrys: an herbaceous perennial plant with hairy stems and leaves. Blue four-lobed flowers. Otherwise known as Germander Speedwell.
“You saw a house called Germander and you connected it with Speedwell House because of the plant name,” says Ellen. “That’s why you had that weird feeling. That and Dad being an arse and saying, ‘Look, there’s our new house.’ It’s so obvious.”
“Don’t call Dad an arse,” I say distractedly.
Is this the resolution of a four-month-old mystery? Can I put up a big “Solved” sign in my head? It bothers me that I’m unable to answer the question definitively. I need to tell Alex, see what he thinks. Did I see the outline of the three missing letters? I don’t remember seeing them.
“How long have you known?” I ask Ellen.
“Couple of months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?”
“I didn’t know how you’d react. For all I knew, you’d start wiffling on about the name connection being even more of a sign that you were destined to live there one day.”
“Yet you’ve told me now.”
I’m glad she did, even if it doesn’t cancel out the strong feeling I had.
“What made you Google that house, months after we drove past it?” I ask.
“Nothing. I don’t remember. I was probably bored one day. Have you finished interrogating me now? Because it’s getting old.”
“Sorry.” No further questions. “I’ll go and get your story.”
“No, chuck it,” says Ellen. “I’ve already typed it up. I’m writing the rest on my laptop.”
For which I know the four-digit access code.
“Don’t waste your time,” Ellen says with quiet efficiency. “I’ve password-protected the file.”
Later that night when she’s asleep, I sit down to do the online search I probably should have done a long time ago. What did Ellen type into the Google box? “German, 8 Panama Row, London”? I try it. I didn’t do it sooner because I didn’t think there was any point. What could the internet tell me that would be useful? “This house is famous for provoking spooky feelings of belonging in people who have no connection with it”?
Here it is: Germander, and the correct address. I’m looking at some kind of planning application document. The owner of 8 Panama Row seems to be an Olwen Brawn, or at least that was who wanted to stick a conservatory on the side of the house in June 2012. She might have moved by now, I suppose.
A conservatory? With a lovely view of the six-lane North Circular? Evidently she decided against it or else permission wasn’t granted. There was no side conservatory when I saw the house four months ago.
Olwen Brawn. The name has no effect on me at all, which is a relief.
Could Ellen be right? Was it the first six letters of Germander that did it, and Alex pointing and saying, “There’s the house we’ve bought”? And the heat, the stress of moving day, the traffic jam . . .
I’d like to believe that’s all it was.
The computer screen in front of me is too tempting. I go back to the Google page and type “Bascom Sorrel Ingrey Speedwell” into the search box. Nothing useful comes up, though I do find a man by the unlikely name of Bascom Sorrell, with two l’s, in Nicholas County, Kentucky.
I try “Perrine Ingrey Malachy Dodd.” Nothing. “Ingrey Allisande Lisette,” “Ingrey Garnet Urban”—nothing.
A full-body shiver makes my skin prickle. Garnet. Urban. According to the family tree, they’re Lisette Ingrey’s children. Their names both sound Victorian English. So do the names Bascom and Sorrel—their grandparents. Lisette, Allisande and Perrine, on the other hand, sound French. Different parents and generations; different tastes in names.
Would a fourteen-year-old think of that?
Yes. Ellen did. That’s why it’s in her story, and that’s all it is: a story.
I’m not convinced. The names seem far too esoteric for even the brightest, most mature teenager to come up with.
As for Ellen password-protecting the file, that’s easily explicable: reticence, embarrassment, a defense of privacy against a parent’s desire to know everything—all children do it at some point.
I sip my tea, which is now lukewarm and so might as well be freezing cold.
There’s no reason to believe that the weirdest family in Kingswear once lived in our house. They’re made up. Fictional characters.
There is no Perrine Ingrey. My daughter’s bedroom did not once belong to her.
About the Author
SOPHIE HANNAH is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous psychological thrillers, which have been published in 27 countries and adapted for television, as well as The Monogram Murders, the first Hercule Poirot novel authorized by the estate of Agatha Christie.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Sophie Hannah
Little Face
The Wrong Mother
The Truth-Teller’s Lie
The Dead Lie Down
The Cradle in the Grave
The Other Woman's House
The Orphan Choir
Kind of Cruel
The Monogram Murders
The Carrier
Woman with a Secret
A Game for All the Family
Closed Casket
The Fantastic Book of Everybody’s Secrets
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Closed Casket copyright © 2016 by Agatha Christie Limited.
Excerpt from A Game for All the Family copyright © 2015 by Sophie Hannah.
THE VISITORS BOOK. Copyright © 2015 Sophie Hannah. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Originally published in 2015 by Sort Of Books, PO Box 18678, London, NW3 2FL.
EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2016 ISBN: 9780062562128
Print ISBN: 9780062669292
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