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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

I stared at him in the rear-view mirror longer than I should. He didn’t move. I think the wind must have gusted, because a Coke can clattered along the car park, bringing me back to what I should really be thinking about.

I flicked the car’s central-locking system, locking the outside out.

I felt sick. Unshed tears burnt in my eyes as I pulled out of the car park. I knew I needed to make a decision about what to do next quickly; I was going under with both grief and the medication I’d taken and I wanted to make a good decision whilst I still could. My gaze flicked up to the rear-view, not to look at Jack but at the road behind me. It was clear. Good; my driving could get a little hazy when I was on tablets.

I wanted to pull over. I wanted to scream and cry. My mother is dead! My mother is dead! My. Mother. Is. Dead.

I wanted to see her; I wanted to go home – back to when I was a child. I wanted to go back to her flat and hold her body close. I wanted to collapse into a chair, after taking some really good shit, before pulling a rug over me and thinking of nothing but my mother, and scream and cry until the bliss of the drugs had taken effect and I could finally pass out into nothingness.

But I couldn’t. I needed to take my life in a firm grip for Jack.

I realised I was never going home again. All my things! I have never been a material person, but . . . I loved my book collection . . . For a moment I glimpsed everything I’d lost: my son for good; my workplace and the people there I knew; my home and belongings; my mother and also my dearly-held sobriety. Even my safety.

All gone.

My mother the greatest loss of all. Shock felt strange, almost as if everything was happening through a television screen – I could see it but couldn’t touch it.

But I knew I didn’t, yet, understand the true weight of it.

I gripped the steering wheel: I had to use my shock whilst I could. Before I got buried under the landslide of grief coming my way, whilst it was still only a deep rumble, a vision I could see but not yet fully feel on me, I needed to concentrate on Jack. If we were caught, I’d lose him. I couldn’t lose him: Jack was my air. I’d suffocate without him.

But where could we go?

Sixty-One

sixty-one:

– now –

I follow the ridges in the field, careful to step in the right place. I don’t care about my feet anymore – only that I don’t lose my way again. I am focused: Jack is the only thing that matters. He’s a magnet and I am the metal particle, drawn onwards, onwards.