BooksBarbecue
Back What I Did
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

‘If you wanted your mother to yourself, you only had to say. Instead, you set me a trap and wrecked my car, which by the way, is now stuck on the side of the road. I didn’t even have time to call the AA because I thought you were up to something. Which clearly you were – because that’s not what grown adults call talking, if you don’t know. How am I supposed to get back to my family tomorrow now?’

I knew, as soon as he’d said it, it was wrong. And I saw his face freeze with the understanding that he knew it was wrong, too. Slowly, I turned to see Jack’s face.

His face seemed to tighten, but when he spoke, it was light, almost conversational. ‘We are your family.’

It’s funny how you can recall your life. Standing there, between husband and son, I remembered our family life in a series of vignettes: eating around the kitchen table; trips out in the car; watching films while eating popcorn. We were, for those first five years, a real family. The good bits glued us, for a while, at least.

‘I never said you weren’t,’ Nick says, now edgy, his gaze flicking towards the door.

‘I think you just did.’

There’s a single moment when there’s nothing. I like to think that Nick didn’t move first, but I don’t know, I don’t know. But there’s no space between them really, only me and the frailties of decency, a construct of how family should be.

Then it’s gone.

Nick’s fist is raised. But his son is quicker and knocks Nick over with an easy move. As Nick goes to right himself, Jack grabs him by the throat and powers him back up against the wall.

It’s only at the last minute that I see he has a knife in his hand – the missing knife from the block. I recall the single-handedness of his shaking a cigarette out and then lighting it with his left hand, then lighting one from the other, letting me pour the drinks, and I realise I never once saw his right hand. I realise he must’ve been holding the knife under the table the whole time. I choose not to think why.

I choose not to think if Nick hadn’t arrived back, what might’ve happened.

I choose not to consider his lies that he was going to leave Jack with me when clearly he had other plans.

But I do remember the yawning missing tooth in the knife block and I do see the missing knife now clutched in his white-knuckled fist, and his arm is now drawn back and I realise—

Seventy-Seven

seventy-seven:

– now –