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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

With my postpartum complications, my own GP, who’d had a similar birth story herself, felt very at ease prescribing me large doses of codeine. Some check-and-balance failed to happen, and by the time it did and they turned the tap off, I was already long addicted.

But I did the right thing – I stepped off the roundabout, stuck with the withdrawal and came out the other side. I was glad to be shot of the embarrassment of it all. I’ve always been someone who likes to do the right thing. I have a huge sense of justice and it felt wrong to raise a child and not be clean.

So that might have been the end of it except for a nasty row about me giving Jack a half-packet of Skittles, which resulted in my finger being dislocated.

It hurt very badly, but rather than go to the hospital, I popped it back in myself and dosed myself up on paracetamol and ibuprofen. I had been due to work and nearly used the injury as a reason to turn it down, but needed to get away from Nick. He was very much on edge at this point. He was very fragile, and not only had he started drinking too much, but he had also taken up smoking again which had always been a massive bone of contention between us. Even his hair had started to fall out. He had never been a vain man, but I think it reminded him that his life was out of control and he didn’t know how to help himself.

Looking back, I don’t think either of us was doing very well. We were struggling with the collapse of our marriage and the vision we’d had of family life. Nothing was like we’d thought it would be and the violence was making me scared and him sour. Therapy gave me an outlet to talk, but Nick was a very macho man and he probably didn’t even confide in his friends. I’d made an appointment for us at Relate, but he refused to go, and I didn’t have the energy to push it.

Our sex life had long since dwindled away. There had been a nasty incident, when late at night, drunk, he’d tried to have sex with me. He’d held me down by my wrists, each of his legs pinning my own, and I had struggled, hissing into his ear that I hated him. In the end, he’d collapsed into my shoulder, sobbing, crushed by his own violence and impotence.

As he lay there, his tears mixed with my own, I think we both knew how much our dream was broken, and perhaps we hated ourselves just a little more.

We were stuck, unable to go back, unwilling to go forward.