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
If I really push myself, I can just about see my hands. They are so darkened with blood, they no longer look like mine. But I don’t care – only Jack matters. I focus. I try for another arch, another push to do the impossible, but I already know it’s pointless – I already know it’s not even near working. I’m only doing it because I don’t know what else to do. Think, Lisa.
Perhaps I can wedge the knife to saw back and forth against my ties. I drop the knife back onto the counter’s edge.
I turn my back to it and grab it first try. Hope surges. I hold the handle, cold in my hot sausage fingers.
Inching round, I trap the knife between me and the wall so that the blade can press against my bindings. It takes a few fumbles but when I angle it just right, I know I am pressing against them. It’s painful, because whatever it is that is tying my hands together puts even more pressure on my wrists, but I keep going.
‘Lisa is going to have another go, ladies and gentlemen! Isn’t she just the grreeaaatttesst contestant we’ve ever had?’
I can’t achieve the sawing motion that I’d hoped for – I can’t get the range of movement. The ticking of the clock is taunting the pressure of time.
Eventually, finally, I put the knife back on the counter and stare at it like a lover that’s betrayed me – it gave me a hope of something that wasn’t real.
I need to try something else. I cast around the small kitchen, desperate for a solution. The food mixer; the washing machine; the sink; all these are useless to me.
Then I see the gas stove.
Twelve
twelve:
– now –
I see the gas stove and think: Fire cuts through everything.
Including me. Do I really want to do this? I look at the gas ring and think how the fire will cut my flesh. I’ll do anything to save Jack – but there must be a different way. Anger and fear and being knocked out have made me hasty. I just need to take a second to be logical.
It comes to me in an instant, a bright and beautiful ta-daaaahhhh!!! My handbag is in the hall! Everything I need is in there – my phone, wallet and car keys. Yes, I decide, of course! Logic saves the day. Relief washes through me – and I almost smile at my fervour: no burning needed today.
I look out into the hall first, frightened as I peer round the door. The stairs door is shut. By the front door is a shoe rack and I can see my bag on top where I normally leave it.