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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

The travel got to both Jack and me. By the time I got off the bus, I was on the verge of a full mental breakdown. I’d once did a rotation on a psychiatric ward during my nursing training, so I had an idea what I was talking about. Now we’d given up the buggy, I was determined not to go back, but I missed it when Jack dithered. With the gate in sight, I took his hand and tried to tow him faster, but he complained: ‘Ow, Mummy, don’t pull so hard!’ An old man, walking in with us, turned to glance at me. Feeling judged, I felt the tension in my jaw tighten and I loosened my grip on him.

I realised I was brewing for an argument and felt a twinge of shame. I told him: ‘Sorry, Jack, it’s just that we have to get there on time,’ as if he didn’t already know.

As we walked through the outer gate that seemed to define my life, I glanced down at my young son, and finally felt my heart properly soften. His large eyes looked up at me and I realised again that he was so beautiful, sometimes I just forgot what a precious, precious gift he was.

I knew I was angry at him; angry at Nick; angry at myself and what our family had become. It was so far from where we’d wanted to be, it was such a scrunched up mess, it made me hate each one of us. But at the centre of it, I saved the most hate for myself.

Each of us were victims. However, Jack was the biggest victim of us all. I thought of me and then of my mother. And then of my father. Jack was my father’s victim too. Like throwing a stone in a lake, the ripples of his actions many years ago were hitting against Jack now.

As I took my hard, plastic chair, I realised that I wasn’t stressed from our horrendous journey, I was frightened. I was frightened of what my mother would say about my news.

I sat opposite her and it started straightaway.

‘No smile today?’ She didn’t look at me as she said that, instead looking at Jack who was reading a Horrible Histories book. He loved them, but I didn’t trust him not to be listening anyway. ‘Jack,’ I asked to test him out, ‘want a sweet?’ He didn’t raise his head. Mollified a little, I paused, listening to the sounds of the visiting room. Lots of voices; someone weeping; someone else hacking a stubborn cough; maniacal laugher cackling from some other place. Jack turned a page.

‘Nick and I . . . we are . . .’ I made myself look at my mother.

She leaned, her broad hands laced together on her lap, her body motionless, waiting.