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
The burns were never as bad as I perceived they were at the time; I think that would be a good metaphor for how I’ve looked at some things over my adult life. My most recent therapy breakthrough was recognising how weak I’ve always been, how passive. To some people, they might want to shake me, and tell me to stop sleepwalking through things – perhaps that’s what Issy wanted to do, all those years ago. She got the perp wrong, but her ideas were right. I have been weak; I can accept that. But I can also accept why that is: when you’ve committed a terrible thing in childhood it’s easy to become scared by the power of oneself. To see one’s muscle flexed at its most strong, is overwhelming. I’m not surprised I took a step back and instead stayed timid and safe.
And that timidity – at least in part – might’ve driven Jack’s behaviour. Every time he pushed up against me, I always took a step back. And then another step. And another.
That might be a factor. Possibly.
I accept that my reluctance to challenge bad behaviour might not be Jack’s full story. I still don’t know why my son was the way he was. Together, Anya and I agreed that it’s not appropriate – or within our gift – to diagnose him; instead she suggests it’s better to stay with his behaviours. She says it’s easier to stick to my truth that way. Nick has his truth and Jack had his – therapy has taken me a long way. With it, I accept that I’m allowed mine.
But I haven’t forgiven myself. I never will. Just because I can’t understand where I went wrong, doesn’t mean that I didn’t. All the dead at Sunningdale are testament to that.
Anya says only my behaviour can be a testament to me. Whether or not that’s true, it’s helping me to look forward.
The sun, released from a cloud, shines brighter and my face greedily absorbs the heat. I’m blessed to have much to look forward to. Jack’s stammer is so much better too – not completely gone, but some days I forget he even has one. It means that he’s liberated from his self-imposed silence and instead – amazement layered on amazement – it turns out he’s chatty. I don’t think I will ever tire of him talking. He talks on the phone too, to Nick and Anne-Marie and their children. It makes me feel good that he’s got another set of grandparents out there and two young aunties who just adore him. It was even my idea that he stays with them for the last few days over the Christmas holidays.