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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

I’m standing in a garden; the farmhouse is just in front of me. I pause, dragging air into my aching lungs. I stare at the building. It’s great to see it, for my journey to be over, but it’s not what I expected. It’s not the architecturally lovely thing that my cottage is, but a large 1970s box with large windows and a flat-roofed extension to the side.

My breathing slows. A farmhouse that has a farmer is still a farmhouse, no matter what it looks like.

I hear loud music. It’s spiky, shouty and sounds angry. This is just the type of person I need! The doorbell is the same – new looking. Whoever lives here takes care of things. I’m hoping for practical and strong. It all feels so positive.

I ring the bell and hold my breath.

Thirty-One

thirty-one:

– now –

Somewhere in the dark, across the field behind me, a fox screams again and I’m reminded of waking up on my floor. I hate that sound.

When Jack and I first moved to the country, there were many things we struggled to adjust to. Planning ahead, even for milk, was something that took a few weeks to get right. For just about forever, I’d been making Jack a warm milk – just a small amount so he didn’t wet the bed – before he went to sleep, but many times we ran out of milk and there could no longer be a quick dash to the shops.

It wasn’t just the practical problems of being isolated that was the worst thing, more that it also didn’t provide the feeling of safety I’d been hoping for. After fleeing, we moved a few times, staying in hotels, not really sure what we should do. But when Jack started to show severe anxiety, I realised we needed something more permanent. This had seemed like the answer. Homeschooling and not yet having to register with a GP meant that we were instantly harder to track. There were no links with me to Herefordshire – I’d never visited the place before and knew no one who lived here, so there was no reason to look for us here.

It should’ve been the ultimate place of safety. Rolling hills of nothingness – our idyllic cottage should’ve felt like a haven.

But it didn’t.

The nights were just so dark. The evenings were horrendous, bringing huge moths or maybugs and crane flies that flew drunkenly into the house and left us breathless with the feeling of being hunted. Dark shapes moved across the lawn at night; I clutched myself as I whispered: ‘Only badgers,’ but undulating bodies in the dark made me skittish.