Affinity by Sarah Waters

has paid, a whole shiner .’ He put the money in my hand. It was very warm from his own hand, & as he gave it to me he laughed, saying it was a hot one . I said he ought not to give me the money, since Mrs Lewis had really been his. He said ‘But you, Miss Dawes, being up here all alone & having no-one, you make a man remember his gentlemanly responsibilities.’ He still held my hand, that had the coin in it. When I tried to take it from him he held it tighter, saying ‘Did she show you the marks?’ I said then that I thought I heard Mrs Vincy in the passage.
    When he went I put the coin into my box, & the day passed very dull.

4 October 1872
    To a house at Farringdon, for a lady Miss Wilson - brother to spirit ’58, fell in a fit & choked . 3/-
    Here , Mrs Partridge - 5 infants to spirit, namely Amy, Elsie, Patrick, John, James, none of which lived in this world longer than a day. This lady came wearing a black lace veil, which I made her put back. I said ‘I see your babies’ faces close to your throat. You are wearing their shining faces like a necklace, & don’t know it.’ The necklace had a space in it however, there was room on the thread for 2 more jewels. When I saw that, I dropped the veil about her again, saying ‘You must be very brave’ -
    I grew sad, working with that lady. After her, I told them downstairs to say I was too tired for any more, & I have kept to my own room. It is 10 o’clock. Mrs Vincy has gone to bed. Mr Cutler, who has the room below this, is exercising with a weight, & Miss Sibree is singing. Mr Vincy came once, I heard his feet upon the landing & the sound of his breaths outside my door. He stood breathing there for 5 minutes. When I called ‘Mr Vincy, what do you want?’ he said that he had come to look at the carpet on the stairs, since he was afraid it was loose & might catch my toe & trip me. He said a landlord must do that sort of work, even at 10 o’clock at night.
    When he went I put a stocking in my key-hole.
    Then I sat & thought of Aunty, who tomorrow will be dead 4 months.

2 October 1874
    We have had rain for three days—a cold, miserable rain, that turns the surface of the river rough and dark, like crocodile-skin, and makes the barges roll and bob so restlessly upon it, it tires me to watch them. I am sitting with a rug about me, and wear an old silk bonnet of Pa’s. From somewhere in the house comes Mother’s voice, raised, scolding Ellis—I should say Ellis has dropped a cup or spilled water. Now there is the banging of a door, and the whistles of the parrot.
    The parrot is Priscilla’s, and was got for her by Mr Barclay. It sits in the drawing-room on a bamboo perch. Mr Barclay is training it to say Priscilla’s name; so far, however, it will only whistle.
    We are a discontented house to-day. The rain has made the kitchen flood, and there are leaks in the attics; worst of all, our girl, Boyd, has given us her week’s warning, and Mother is raging at the prospect of having to engage another maid, so close to Prissy’s wedding-day. It is a curious thing. We all supposed Boyd content enough, she has been with us for three years; but yesterday she went to Mother and said she had found out another situation and would be leaving in a week. She wouldn’t look at Mother as she spoke—told her some story, though Mother saw through it—and when she was pressed, she broke out in a passion of weeping. She said then that the truth was, the house when she is alone in it has begun to frighten her. She said it has ‘turned peculiar’ since Pa died, and his empty study, that she must clean, gives her the horrors. She said she cannot sleep at night, for hearing creaks and other sounds she cannot account for—once, she said, she heard a whispering voice, saying her name! She says there have been many times when she has lain awake, frightened to death, too frightened even to creep from her own room to Ellis’s; and the result of it is, she is sorry to be leaving us