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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

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.