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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

Nick stared at his son who stood in the corner by the imperfect paint. I could see Jack put his hand to his nose and then look at the blood on his fingertips. It made me frightened of what was going on in his mind.

He was only five years old. What had we done to him? Now his pet dog was dead. Things could never go back to what they had been. Never.

I wished I could chip this whole day out of my life. I wished I could just sand down the damage until it was gone and start again with another coat of Silk Sigh.

Nick reached out, his hand outstretched. There was a smear of blood on his finger. ‘Please,’ he called out in a voice so thick with emotion, I barely recognised it. ‘Jack! I’m sorry I lost my temper!’

The word sorry seemed to hang in the air, as thin as smoke and as vulnerable, before it instantly evaporated into nothing.

Nick realised that Jack wouldn’t turn around for him, so he collapsed to his knees, and bent to pick up the broken body of Winston. The bulldog had always really been Nick’s idea – he brought him home as a puppy when Jack was just a baby. I was annoyed at first but then I fell completely in love with Winston.

Nick dropped the broom and picked him up, the back part of his body flopping: his spine was broken. Snap.

Snapped with the power of what? My thoughts sped, each blurred and smudgy with panic: the dog was dead and I grasped through the haze that, as a family, we’d finally reached the impasse. There had been a sequence leading to this and now that wouldn’t stop; now nothing was going to stay the same. I felt it clearly in that moment, through the muddle: now it’s all going to get worse. I didn’t know how, but I was right, because within two days Nick and I were finished, for better or for worse.

Really, the way we’d been functioning, it was about time.

But I couldn’t be relieved about it – there was no relief in the dog being dead or what came next.

I looked at Nick, on his knees with our dead dog, a silent bellow of anger and sadness ripping through me, making me step back. My marriage was over and it hurt.

Sorry.

I know about temper: I grew up around it. How that sudden silent seizing in the amygdala and the release of catecholamines means rational becomes irrational within a heartbeat. Fire like that can just live in blood.