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Back Day of the Accident
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. What readers are saying about
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. Part Two
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. Part Three
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. Epilogue
  69. Acknowledgements
  70. THE NEXT THRILLER BY NUALA ELLWOOD
  71. THE BEGINNING

Dear Mummy,

I’m trying to be strong and trying not to cry too much, though it’s very very hard.

I’m writing this in an exercise book that Weasel Face gave me. I told her I wanted it to practise my spelling. She doesn’t know that I’m writing you letters. I think she’d be angry if she knew. Zoe is sitting on the bunk above me smoking a cigarette. The smell is getting into my throat and I really want to cough but I’m trying to keep it in. I’ve realized that the slightest thing annoys Zoe and I don’t want to end up getting slapped.

I’ve found a way to stop myself crying. Whenever I feel sad I write down my thoughts. It’s a bit like a word soup, out they all pour on to the paper. Yesterday when Weasel Face took me into town I thought I saw you on the street. I always look out for you. I got all sad and panicky and wanted to cry but I stopped myself by thinking happy thoughts. I kept the happy thoughts in my head until I came home then I wrote them down in this notebook. This is what I wrote:

Mummy and Daddy

Animals and birds

Hot buttered toast

Sweet tea

Running through snow

The feel of wool

C. S. Lewis

Summer holidays

Numbers and counting

Dipping my toes in the sea

Hugs

Mint ice cream

Mummy coming to take me home

Going to sleep in my own bed

Mummy’s face

Mummy’s voice

Mummy

Please come soon.

Your lovely daughter xxx

11

I sit trembling in the front seat of Amanda’s Nissan Micra. Though we’ve only been driving for a few minutes it feels like an eternity.

Amanda is my social worker; a stranger in whose hands my future now lies.

I close my eyes and recall the events of this morning. When I got to Dr Elms’s office I was met by Amanda and her colleague, a thin, bug-eyed young man called Mike Saunders. As I sat there, half listening to them discussing my care plan and discharge forms, all I could think about was getting back to Larkfields, lying down in the big iron bed, pulling the covers over my head and blocking out the world. But then Mike Saunders said something that made me sit up rigid in my seat: ‘The priority is to get Mrs Allan into emergency accommodation.’ At first I thought I’d misheard him but then Amanda had intercepted and explained that she had found a place for me at a nice bed and breakfast in Lewes. I had no idea what they were talking about. Why would I need to be placed in emergency accommodation? Why wasn’t I going home?