Girl A by Abigail Dean

Author:Abigail Dean [Dean, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008389055
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-01-20T18:30:00+00:00

UNIQUE items from the REAL House of Horrors:

Your own piece of memorabilia from the Gracie House of Horrors. Choose from:

Blanket owned by Gabriel Gracie (as seen in this photograph by Isaac Brachmann, nominated for several major awards)

Diary of Gabriel Gracie (recordings from age 7–8) – approx. 20 pages

Letter from Delilah Gracie to Gabriel Gracie WHEN CAPTIVE, 2 pages

Never-seen-before family photographs x5

Family Bible owned by Charles and Deborah Gracie

Verification of goods available if required. Discounts negotiable for full set.

They slept together, their ankles entwined, and in the morning, when Oliver could move, they walked back to the library to check on the bids.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Oliver said, and flung his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders.

There were some substantial bids for the individual items – a few hundred pounds for the diary, for example – but an anonymous bidder had offered two and a half thousand pounds for the full set. ‘I’ve followed your story with great interest,’ Oliver read, from the accompanying note, ‘and think of you often.’ He snorted, still gleeful. ‘It sounds like you still have your fans.’

By the time bidding closed, six days later, the items had sold to the same bidder for just over three thousand pounds. Oliver went from the library to his dealer, and Gabriel returned to the flat with a range of envelopes, and unlocked the drawer of his bedside table. This was where he stored the little collection of items, close to where he slept and away from Oliver’s sight. Now they would be preserved in a different house, one that he wasn’t able to picture. He read his own laboured account of the days at Moor Woods Road, letters tumbling from their lines and landing, one on top of the other, at the bottom of the page. Not a happy day, he had written, and Delilah is very pretty, and Lots of running today. He had never been particularly eloquent, then or now; nobody had taught him, the way that his siblings had taught one another. He found that he was crying, and he tucked the diary into an envelope. Water damage might knock a few hundred off. It was time for the celebration.

That night he was as drunk as he had ever been. He bought a half-litre of vodka on the way to meet Oliver, and by the time he reached the pub he was smiling and soft. He couldn’t see Oliver at the bar, or at any of the tables, and he walked through to the garden. There was a moment – he had just walked down the steps, and below the line of the afternoon sun – when the whole night came into view before him. Here was Oliver, his arm around a woman Gabriel didn’t know. Here were his eyes, already wild. Here was his smile. Gabriel knew that he would consume whatever fell onto the surfaces before him, and that thoughts of the envelopes on his bed – of anything, very much – would stop here.

He woke up many hours later, in a bedroom which he didn’t recognize.

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