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
‘Is there . . . something going on?’ I tried a smile, but my face felt stiff and false. I smelt the waft of banana bread from my string bag and felt ambushed. ‘I wish I’d known that Nessa wasn’t going to join us – I’ll have to get these tulips to her somehow.’
‘Sorry,’ Issy said, ‘maybe I should’ve said, but we . . .’
Now, I’d have to wait until Nick was back from work and then drive the tulips across town. It’d be late and I’d be tired. My irritation made me bold; if she was going to rip a plaster off, I suddenly wanted her to get on with it. ‘Issy – what’s going on?’
‘We all thought it’d be better that it wasn’t everyone today, just one of us. Otherwise . . . you might not feel comfortable.’
My face burnt; within that one statement, I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want to know. This would be embarrassing and awkward and I just wanted to be anywhere but here.
Issy was lovely, but she always had that air of self-possessed confidence of those who’ve had wealthy parents and good schooling. She was a high-powered solicitor and I was only a stay-at-home mum. I didn’t begrudge her – she was funny, sweet and hard-working. I really liked her. But I never felt like I quite measured up. Her bobbed hair was, as always, immaculate; my mousey mop rarely saw a brush. I lived in jeans and flip-flops; she loved tailored pieces. Her daughter wore neat dresses and ate biscuits slowly, whereas Jack was greedy and rubbed his dirty hands on his T-shirts. It was as if she was in control of everything, whereas I was just holding on to the edges of life.
‘I’ve just remembered . . .’ I said, fumbling for a reason to save me.
‘Please don’t go.’ She lightly rested her hand over mine. ‘We really care about you. So much. You’re a dear friend and we all just love Jack.’ Her eyes flicked away and I knew she was going to deliver a bomb; she squeezed my hand and said: ‘This – what I’m about to say – is so important.’ She took a deep breath: ‘I want to get this right. Please give me a chance.’
I nodded and tried to smile a little. ‘Of course, Issy. Whatever you want to say.’
Issy inhaled deeply, squeezed her eyes shut and said: ‘We’ve seen the bruises.’ There was a long beat and then she added: ‘And we are concerned for you. For your safety.’
I let go of her hand to add sugar to my coffee and stirred very slowly, keeping my gaze on the moving spoon.
‘We saw your cheek last week.’ She barely paused before adding: ‘And your eye just before that. And bruises, your finger . . . lots of things have made us think.’