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Back What I Did
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

Two Jacks; father and son.

Me, already at 44 a grandmother to a six-year-old.

Jack turned back to see me. ‘Granny?’ he asked me, ‘You don’t mind if I stay with my daddy for the weekend?’

I could see the hope in his eyes, could see how much he wanted to be with his dad after all this time. How could I, as just his granny, not simply say yes? The solicitor had given me no hope of anything else.

So, I nodded, terror cold fingers around my heart. Side by side, I could see how different my two Jacks were – one sensitive and concerned, the other – just dangerous. Like the contrast is their ages, I felt the sharp contrast in raising them both. Never before had I wanted Nick’s calm, kind reassurance more. Then, standing there, looking at our son now grown, I ached for my ex-husband’s gentle touch.

My son smiled at me, alligator. ‘Sorry, Granny, I think it’s best that I spend some time on my own with my son, don’t you?’ Then his smile deepened, gouging deeper into flesh: ‘But don’t come back for him until Sunday morning. I’ve bought Jack new clothes and a toothbrush. Sunday. Thanks, Mum.’

Mum.

Cruel, cruel, cruel. Standing there, as he barred my way to Jack, he knew what he was doing when he called me Mum. He hadn’t called me Mum in so long, not since he was fourteen when, after a row about him tracking mud onto my new, immaculate, cream carpet, he started calling me Lisa instead.

But then my Jack chose to call me that – just so I knew my place. We stood on his doorstep and it was such a rare moment that he looked at me – properly.

‘And give me his school bag. Jack told me on the way home that he does his spelling homework on a Saturday morning.’ He had his hand out for it and I looked down and saw that it was in my hand.

The bag handle was nylon material; rough. I gripped on to it, reluctant to give it up. It was as if it was all I had left. He was even taking our routine of spellings. I imagined them having a lovely breakfast on a Saturday morning, getting the spellings done before heading off to the park or town. That was our routine and now it felt like he wanted everything from me.

I always gave him everything.

It took everything to raise him.

He took it all.

‘I do appreciate you stepping in for my boy. Granny.’

My.

Stepping in. So temporary.