Chapters (50)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Philippa East
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Chapter 1
- About the Publisher
‘An accident?’ Mum is closer than ever to me now. And I realize then, Dad can’t protect me. Not physically, not emotionally, not at all. He’s standing there, right next to me, and he should be able to help me, his daughter. But I realize that if it really came down to it, me against her, he would be forced to take her side.
And so I can’t do it. I can’t stand there and let her touch me. She’s my mother, but I don’t feel safe. I feel as if there’s a pit I’m about to fall into. Because she still hasn’t acknowledged it. This is the closest we’ve ever come; this is the first time I’ve said these kind of words out loud. But she is shaking her head, her face so closed down. She won’t allow either of us to come clean. And all I hear her say is:
‘I did what was best. I was protecting you, protecting Charlie. I stepped in, didn’t I? I kept you both safe.’
It isn’t an admission. It isn’t enough. The truth is still buried there, covered over by all her words: what she did. All I can see is her face, Dad’s confusion. Those white sheets. Pure. Pristine. Not a single mark on them. My reply is on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how I try, I can’t get it out. The words are welded into my mouth. All I can do is say it into the empty chambers of my mind.
I didn’t need protecting. I needed your help.
The green picket gate behind me hangs open, exactly as I left it. I turn and escape from the garden, the house, from them. What had I expected? A happy ending, a perfect confession? The righting of everything that went wrong back then? I should never have come. I was so stupid, so desperate. I’m not thinking rationally. I’m barely thinking at all.
Charlie, I think to myself. Get back to Charlie. He needs you, what on earth are you doing here? You have to go home. You have to get back to him.
My shoes bite my feet as I run back to the train station. I feel the blisters swelling beneath my tights. I reach the station and scan the departures board. And then it’s as though I’ve swallowed my heart.
The next scheduled London train has been cancelled.
And the next one, and the next.