Chapters (87)
- Cover
- Praise
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- Extract from To Keep You Safe
- About the Author
He shrugs. ‘Just do your best, Mummy. That’s what you always tell me. Your best is your best and no one can ask for more,’ and he runs for the swings.
I open my eyes. To be back, standing in this dark garden, outside the cottage that is twenty years after the park I used to take my son to, is just too strange. I was there – I swear it. It was daylight and now it’s night again. I blink, swaying in the cold wind. It might be my head injury, but even as I try to tell myself it is, I know that it’s not the first time that I’ve had these . . . space-outs.
Not for the first time, I promise myself that I will give up the painkillers. I have to get a grip on it, I vow. After this, I tell myself, I will be clean again.
Before I change my mind, I start to run.
It takes seconds to cross the lawn. The door is half-glazed and as I draw nearer, the opaque glass shows there’s a figure standing behind the door. It’s tall, broad: it’s him. He might see me.
He’s been waiting. I must not falter.
My heart is whamming in my chest. I’m going to throw up.
Before I can reach it, the door is starting to open. The light is spilling out. I blink, the light is so bright. I raise the gun up. I’m not yet holding it right; I’m panicking. I need to bring it up and press it into my shoulder – I remember Mungo helping me do this – but my hands are suddenly shaking so much. The gun is against my open burns and they are screaming, screaming; the pain is overwhelming.
My breathing is short and shallow. I can’t kill him. I just won’t – no matter what. I know it – I’ve always known it, it’s just been crazy bravado – instead he will kill me. I don’t mind dying but what about Jack?
There’s no answer to this, I understand. What happens is out of my hands. I still run towards the door, but the gun is already sagging in my grip. I don’t want it. With an overwhelming sense of relief, I place it on the ground.
I will do what I’ve always done, I will do my best, but I won’t hurt my son. Because I can’t.
The door is opening more and it’s just as it was with Erica; I can’t see him properly because it’s so bright in the kitchen and he’s a silhouette. My eyes hurt as they strain against the sudden light.
Then I manage to focus. I blink, once, twice.
The man is standing in the back doorway with a look of disgust on his face.
But it’s not his face. It’s not my son.