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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 wait, expecting . . . I’m not sure what. I enjoy the feeling of the night air on my face and wait for something to change – the phone to ring, the sound of Nick’s car returning. Where is my son? But the minutes pass and nothing. I continue to wait, tired, exhausted, unable to go and do anything. I’m very hungry and my wrists need attention, but all that can wait. My brain is mush with the spent emotion of my evening. I’m trying to figure it all out.

This can’t be the end – there can’t be all of this and now . . . nothing.

Somewhere, abruptly, a firework goes up into the night sky. It’s early – it’s not the fifth of November for nearly two weeks. The colours are bold, brilliant. The pop-pop-pop is loud and I lean out to shut the window against the noise in case it wakes Jack. As the burst of light catches the glass, I can see that the heat in the room has caused condensation to mist on it.

And there it is: in the light of the fireworks and the damp of the condensation, is the answer to my questions. Written in the opaque damp is a short message to me.

One letter in each diamond.

I M S T I L L H E R E

Seventy-Five

seventy-five:

– now –

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, my son. His back is to me, his shoulders broad in a leather jacket that looks expensive. His hair is very short – I never think of him with short hair, it looks neat, tidy. He turns his head: ‘Lisa! And here you are!’ He sounds friendly, but I don’t trust it. He doesn’t look at me, not properly. I think some people could spend years in the company of my son and not realise that he only pretends to look at you – that he does all the right actions without actually making eye contact. But I see it because I see him.

He smiles at me over the top of a glass – just like his dad, he’s drinking my whisky. ‘Glad you’re not crouching in the stairway now. Must’ve been uncomfortable for you, earlier, hiding like that from me as I went to the bathroom. Sorry about that – I heard you coming up the stairs – but when you’ve gotta pee, you’ve gotta pee.’

I pause in the doorway, shocked. I can’t breathe. But not from surprise that he saw me before, cowering and afraid and yet said nothing – that’s just so Jack – but because what shines through is love: I’ve missed him so much.

My son.