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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 back door is still ajar and, stepping outside, the air is cold in my face. I take another step, contemplating the shadowy garden, the darker fields beyond. I look at my socked feet, grateful the ground hasn’t seen rain in nearly two weeks and my socks are thermal. It’s not much, but it’s something.

I place my foot gingerly down outside onto the stone step. I briefly consider another weapon, but looking around the garden, I don’t need light to know there isn’t anything. There are no tools because I don’t have any. I’ve never seen a log lying around and if there was, how would I find it with no torch? And if I did, how would that be any better than a knife? I feel the reassuring weight of my own, tucked in my waistband.

I draw my fleece around me and stare into the night. The wind lightly blows in my face and I think about how I’ve never got used to how dark the countryside gets in Herefordshire. It’s not like town life when the street, house and shop lights lift the dark. Here, in the countryside, there’s nothing to puncture the night.

Just me, in the darkness, shoeless and running . . . where? Cleasong?

The moon is only a fingernail crescent, offering no light. Even as I stare, the black crosses it and I realise that with cloud cover, as soon as I step away from the spill of kitchen light, I will be running blind. I leave the patio, and for safety, run under the concealment of the shadows. Now I am truly in the dark. I take a deep breath: the air is heavy with moulding nature, warm, yeasty and rotting.

I hear a noise behind me, and then the sound of a badger barking nearby, and my fear is as a touch on my skin: I am not alone.

Here in the dark, something is with me.

Something, no – someone – is standing here in the garden shadows with me. The night is so dark, there is so little light, but I can sense them . . . like a single candle in a vast cave, my sight barely breaks the darkness. But I look, look, look. Who is it? Is it him? It can’t be – he’s upstairs reading to Jack. Even so, the feeling that I am not alone sets alight my nerves and, broken from my inertia, I shoot into the night.

Twenty-Seven

twenty-seven:

– now –

I make it only a short distance before I trip in the dark and then I stumble over something and half fall into the border plants. I’m so adrenalised it takes me a minute to draw a decent breath, before I look back, owl eyes to where I was standing – I was so, so sure there was someone standing with me in the dark.