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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

A couple of hours later, as I pulled my Maclaren pushchair and the shame of still using it out of the boot, I wondered if I’d been too generous with it. Jack had slept the whole journey. He must’ve been the only small child never to nod off in the car, but with the antihistamine, he had and as I pulled him out, hot and sweaty from his car seat, he didn’t even wake with the October air on him.

I put him gently into the pushchair. ‘Mummy loves you,’ I said, whispering into his hair. I felt terrible I was still relying on it for these journeys. He was three and should walk, but he was slow and would dawdle. I’d never got over the shame of walking into a prison to see my mum and I couldn’t bear anything that made it slower and more agonising. I wish I had got used to it, but I hadn’t. I was a bad daughter and a bad mother. Wanting to feel better by trying for a kiss, I didn’t dare, in case it woke him. I think if that had happened, and he’d woken with a cry, I would’ve put him back into his seat and driven all the way home. I was close to breaking. My confidence at talking to my mum was waning – the drive had given me time to think and I’d become edgy with too much caffeine and speculation of what she’d say when I smashed the image of her daughter’s perfect world.

But I couldn’t let go of the look in Issy’s eyes as she pulled up my sleeve and saw my bruise. My world had to change, whether I liked it or not.

And, as I approached the prison, the tension of disappointing my mum and yet needing a new authentic life, put me on the edge of breaking.

Ten

ten:

– before –

HM Send women’s prison was my mother’s favourite prison by far. She had been newly transferred here to this modern, brick building, which held the highest concentration of women lifers anywhere in the country. My mum said it was more relaxed, more respectful than the others she’d been in before, and she enjoyed the gardening detail she’d been assigned.

But even if she preferred it, the visitors were the same as the others: everyone drawn and pensive as we filed to go in. I always felt the oppressiveness of it, as I fell compliantly into line with the thin stream of visitors – mostly women, but some men and some children, too, as we stepped into the building. We’d file; we’d wait in line; bonelessly, we offered our bags and bodies, submissive to the searching. There, we were no longer in charge of ourselves.