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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 uses my words back at me: ‘The significance, Lisa, is that that was what the cage was for. I helped him make it. He had Jack’s old baby playpen and someone he knew suggested he tape the two together, so that’s what we did. Yes, he should’ve planned better, yes, he shouldn’t have fallen for a sob story down the pub and come back with a puppy, but golly, it was so cute. Still is.’

He rubs his face. When he speaks, he sounds sad again. Suddenly I wish for angry. ‘He wanted to make a real home for Jack. That’s why he agreed to get a pet. He didn’t tell you because he thought you’d lecture him about a dog being in a flat, but he thought . . .’ He picks up his empty glass and refills it with water. Then he looks at me a long time. ‘Tomorrow, you need to go to hospital.’

I feel a crawl of fear: perhaps he doesn’t mean a normal hospital, perhaps he means something else. Something with doors that buzz and treatment plans for substance misuse and people who expect you to talk about your problems.

‘Why are you not asking me about the puppy?’ He gives an angry huff of breath. ‘Damn you, Lisa, you were always so fixed, so unreachable. Do you not understand what I’m saying? Jack was only in the cage because he insisted on keeping it warm for Lennie. You know what little kids are like when they get an idea in their heads.’

I blink; my eyeballs are so dry, it hurts to move the eyelids. Puppy? I’m hearing him properly now. I’m seeing the flat. I’m seeing the ripped, torn material; the newspaper spread on the floor; the ripped sofa; the old rope; the poo. It’s not living the dream, but . . . but perhaps that was the sign of a puppy playing. I think of the kitchen – clean and tidy. The hallway that always smelt fresh.

I remember Jack, looking at me calmly. I thought it meant something else . . . but perhaps he simply was calm?

‘Where was your son when I found Jack in the cage? And where was this puppy?’

‘My son?’ He gives a dry laugh. ‘What, where was our son when you found Jack in the cage?’ He stares at me with real pity. ‘He’d popped round to the neighbour’s flat to get some loo roll. The puppy had pooed in the flat. Very sensibly –’ he clearly takes pleasure in emphasising this word – ‘he was glad Jack agreed to stay in the cage so that he couldn’t go near the poo.’