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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

He. I can’t, won’t, use his name. When he cut me off by not using mine, then I did the same and burnt his name from my lips. Now he’s just Jack’s father. Him. That man. Bastard. Beloved. Breaker of hearts. Darling one. Destructor. Murderer. Mine. It’s all the same.

What will he do now he has found his son?

This question beats in my brain like the thrum thrum of my pulse, each beat pulling on my meninges, feeling like the worst hangover ever. This is a question I’ve considered possibly every night since I bundled Jack up and ran. This is the question that has kept us moving, finally seeking refuge here.

I pull at my wrists, then try to sit up again, feeling sea-lion clumsy. It’s harder than I thought, my balance thrown off with my deadened, so painful, hands and shoulders, but this time I manage it. The world lurches . . .

. . . Grey . . .

. . . Nausea . . .

. . . Fairground roller coaster . . .

I bring my knees up and rest my face against them, breathing slowly until the nausea passes.

Panic flares, but I force myself to stay still for a moment, to keep breathing deeply. I want to leap up and save Jack, but I’m worried I’ll pass out again. I turn my head and look at the wall clock. Eight thirty: I’ve been out for half an hour.

I need a plan. There’s a great possibility, I realise, that they are already miles away, perhaps even out of Herefordshire itself. I imagine him leading Jack through the back door, into the garden, and taking him by the hand across the green fields, all the time pulling him, his large fingers handcuffed tight around Jack’s little wrist.

No – he would’ve put him in a car. I imagine one hand clamped across a silently screaming Jack’s mouth as he holds his son across one shoulder, dropping him into the car boot. Then I start to imagine something worse – much worse.

I see it; I see them; I see the dark.

A vast, jagged iceberg drops into my stomach. I swallow against the cold, cold fear. I know I am close to losing it again. I have to fight this.

I need to search the cottage. If they are here, I will appeal to him, or fight him or whatever it takes. I know the police won’t help me, I know they will side with him, but I will not lie here on my floor doing nothing.

I pull against my wrists and then move my fingers in an attempt to understand what’s holding them. It’s tight. It burns my skin. I twist round trying to see but I can’t see much over my shoulder. I fight my bonds: whatever it is bites my flesh again and I understand it’s not going to be easy to get free.