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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 nodded benignly, determined not to torture her with emotion, but as I turned to leave, she gripped my arm and looked me in the eye. ‘Lisa. Listen to me, darling. I think you’re a great mother. But I want you to think about what returning to work could give you – the opportunity to earn your own money and be your own woman. I want you to have your independence.’ She tightened her grip and when she spoke the next line, her voice was meant to be a whisper, I think, but sounded instead like a hiss: ‘I don’t want you to suffer like I did.’

My heart stopped beating, I swear, as I thought: she has seen my bruises. She knows.

Finally, she released me. But when she bent to kiss Jack, he turned his head into my skirt and stayed there.

We both pretended he was tired, but perhaps my mother understood that Jack had heard her conversation. I picked my son up and settled him on my hip, and pushed the pushchair away from my mum.

It always hurt so bad to leave her there. Worse now that I’d seen her grey hair. Her recent request for parole had been denied – there was no clear end date to this.

I never looked back at her – never – but that day I did, and saw that she was standing there, watching me go. I wondered what she was thinking. But if she had any regrets, it didn’t show because she smiled and she lifted her hand a little, giving just the most subtle movement of a wave. Queen-like, really. She is my queen; my hero.

My mum.

And for some reason, then, I re-remembered the forgotten, long-buried memory of my mother dropping that knife onto her bedroom carpet. I remembered the crimson tide of the duvet, white cotton then red. It was so sudden: so quick. Red before it fell from her hand.

This time, the memory was less abrupt for the remembering. And strangely, it didn’t knock me to the floor again. For some inexplicable reason, it seemed to do the opposite. I knew that I was always afraid of my father and the memory of my mother letting go of that knife didn’t fill with me fear, but instead filled me with confidence and peace. Finally, finally, she was in charge. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t question it either because I was so filled with radiating love for her, I simply lifted my hand in response to her goodbye.