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
My childhood memory of my mother dropping her knife and then, just now, seeing her watching me go, made me realise that despite what she’d done, she had never stopped watching out for me. The fact she’d been better than my perception made me want to be better for Jack. Things had to change – and it was going to start now. ‘Darling, I think you’re a big enough boy not to need your pushchair anymore. What do you think?’
He looked up at me with big, pretty eyes, considering my question.
‘Could you walk like me? I wouldn’t want to push you into school next year. Maybe some of the other kids might think it’s a bit babyish.’
His forehead wrinkled with the consideration, then he nodded: ‘I can walk.’
Dropping a kiss on his head, I took his hand, pushed the redundant buggy with my other. My boy was growing up. It was a stark thought: things changed without me doing anything. Nothing would stay the same.
The walk made him grumpy, but we stuck with it. By the time I got back to the car, I felt on the verge of something significant. Tired, Jack had started grumbling before I’d even started the car, but I put on an audio children’s story and he settled down to listen, letting me settle down to make decisions. Even as we crossed Ockham Common, the narrator’s voice spoke of The Faraway Tree, and my heart spoke of freedom. Sometimes driving had the same effect on me as walking – it helped me think properly – and I was determined to use the headspace to make a plan before I arrived home.
On the M25, the lorries thundered past; the driving towards the coast loosened my mind and it felt almost hypnotic. As cars overtook, as I overtook others, I went through possible option after possible option and what became clear was, all choices led to needing money.
And I had none.
Nick controlled our money; I’ve always been uninterested in anything practical and mundane like paying bills, but that lack of control and lack of any personal income meant that I couldn’t siphon any money from our account without him knowing. With that inability to access cold hard cash, I accepted that, as I turned off for the M23, I would have to return to work.
Once I’d made the decision to find a nursery for Jack and to sign on with a nursing agency, I actually felt exhilarated. The idea of having my own income felt empowering. It would give me control.