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
Now, I stepped into the thin corridor of a hall and looked at the grubby carpet tiles and couldn’t help but compare it to the carpet of our last oh-so-lovely flat. We’d never been well off, but this . . . this felt like I’d been plunged into a world of poverty. Perhaps I’d rushed things a bit.
No. No choice, I reminded myself.
‘Well, this is it!’ I said to Jack in a too-bright voice. ‘Don’t forget we will put plants around the place –’ I glanced through to the small sitting room and the tired sofa – ‘and brighten the place up with throws and pictures! And I can paint it too, so you can pick any colour for your bedroom walls.’ My thin laugh bounced in the low-ceilinged, characterless space.
Five-year-old Jack peered round me and stared, his bottom lip now protruding, looking like he was going to cry. Boys his age don’t care much for throws and pictures. They want their dads. They also want their old school. They also want their grandma, Irene.
What did I want? I wondered, looking inside the grubby faux-wood kitchen cupboards. I wanted safety. I wanted change. I opened a drawer and saw a dead woodlouse. I wasn’t sure this was it.
After Winston and then . . . what happened next, I’d picked up my phone and pretty much picked Bracknell off a map. It was a panicked decision to leave Brighton.
When I’d seen it, Bracknell had seemed like enough distance to start again. It had several hospitals and lots of care homes, so there was plenty of opportunity for work. A phone call to the local authority had told me I could secure a space for Jack at the nearby school; it was small and only a short walk away, which felt perfect. By living on the high street, we had useful shops on our doorstep and great connections Even better, Bracknell was only thirty minutes’ drive from my mother’s prison. At the time, it’d felt like the perfect decision.
But today, I could see the reality. When I got a car, I wouldn’t be able to park it nearby. The recent rain had overflowed the drains. The overcast April sky made the flat feel shabby and cheap, because it was shabby and cheap. Although I’d saved enough for a deposit and the first few months’ rent, I couldn’t afford to be extravagant. Moving away from Nick also meant moving away from Irene. I felt terrible for her, effectively walking out of her life, but it also meant that I’d be limited to how much I could work and therefore earn.
I planned on taking nothing from Nick – it felt safer that way.