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
I watch Jack lob the ball across the beach to Lennie. It feels good not to have any secrets.
The sea breeze smarts my eyes as I decide that cleaning up your past is like cleaning out your wardrobe: it becomes compulsive and impossible to stop. Once I started ridding myself of the burden of my secrets, I decided to get rid of all of them, so I told Anya what Jack’s dying words were to me: You killed your dad. It took many sessions to be able to rephrase it to: I saved my mum. Although she went to prison for a very long time, there’s enough memories in me to accept that I probably did save her life. Probably, maybe, hopefully.
I guess I was dizzy with relief because I then went even further. I saw a solicitor and together we wrote a letter to the police explaining that I believe it was me who killed my father, when defending my mother. I’ve been interviewed and I’m not sure it’s in ‘the public interest’ for the CPS to take it further, and of course, at eight years old, I was way below the age of criminal liability. Social services have been notified because of my caring for Jack, but Nick has gone on record for me that I’m a good parent, and that seems to have settled it a little. They keep a distant check on Jack, but Nick, sticking up for me, told them that Jack is with me or Jack goes into care. Nick would do the right thing, I know, but thankfully, it seems that’s not needed. The fact I’m solvent, sober, and supported goes far. The fact Jack is happy and thriving goes even further.
Nick also went on record too, for Erica, as did I. Of course, there was a thorough investigation and then a trial. Ballistics and other scene of crime forensics backed up our testimony. She won’t be allowed another shotgun license, but she didn’t have to serve any time. I think Nick’s vehement testimony was a real game-changer for Erica. My mother said she was sorry I married ‘a flatfoot’. I’d love to tell her that it has its benefits.
I smile to think of her saying that. My solicitors are hoping that my statement might lead to my mother’s name being formally exonerated. Although it feels risky, I can’t be sober without cleaning out my most dusty and overfilled top shelves.
I feel like I’ve done that now. I feel brave and new.
I watch Jack and Lennie playing on the beach and think of what my mother would say about me trying to clear her name. She’d be a little cross, I expect, but I like to think she’s looking down at me from heaven and is maybe a little pleased, too.