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Back What I Did Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sixty
  64. Sixty-One
  65. Sixty-Two
  66. Sixty-Three
  67. Sixty-Four
  68. Sixty-Five
  69. Sixty-Six
  70. Sixty-Seven
  71. Sixty-Eight
  72. Sixty-Nine
  73. Seventy
  74. Seventy-One
  75. Seventy-Two
  76. Seventy-Three
  77. Seventy-Four
  78. Seventy-Five
  79. Seventy-Six
  80. Seventy-Seven
  81. Seventy-Eight
  82. Seventy-Nine
  83. Eighty
  84. Epilogue
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Extract from To Keep You Safe
  87. About the Author

Even as I stood there, I couldn’t name him, couldn’t call him Jack. I think to call him by his real name was to open up a window to our past selves – the way we had been when I was his mother and he was my son. But although I refused to call him Jack until he started calling me Mum again, I still loved him. I knew that. And I carried that love like a dirty secret, because he couldn’t bear to hear about it.

No matter what he did to me, I have always loved him because he is my child. We always felt like one. We had spent so much of our lives together; I was so dependent on him, he was so dependent on me. I still hold dear the days when we were so close, when it was so blurred that I didn’t know where he started and I finished. When being together was difficult but enough.

But it went wrong, so wrong.

It was wrong way, way before we had his son to consider and it was still wrong now.

His lounge was messy with fish-and-chip wrappers on the carpet, an upended ashtray, rope (why does he have rope?) and it stank – of poo and urine. But – but worse, worse, worse was the terror in the middle of the room.

Why had Jack never told me?

I struggled to fit this room to the rest of what I’d understood about Jack’s life here. He continued to wear new, clean clothes back from his dad’s. I always washed and ironed them and took them into school on a Friday afternoon to give back, but I rarely saw the same ones again. The flat always smelt fresh, when standing at the front door. Was that just air freshener as part of the facade?

Is this why my son always pulled the door to – so I couldn’t see inside? Couldn’t see the mess? Couldn’t see the monstrosity?

There, in the centre of the room, was a horror: fashioned out of two kids’ playpens, with one upended on the other and bound everywhere with Gaffer tape. And seeing that horror, perhaps my last glow of love finally, finally, finally dimmed to nothing.

Because even in the dimness, I could see the smallness of Jack trapped inside a cage.

Forty-Two

forty-two:

– before –

With Jack in the cage and his father out of the flat, I knew I had a window of opportunity to rescue Jack. I was so relieved too, that I had trusted my instincts and come looking for my grandson. But I didn’t know how long I had and I knew if he came back and found me, there was a very good chance he might kill me.