BooksBarbecue
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

And with that, he took Jack into the dark inside, like a calf swallowed up by dark water; as he shut the door, all I could think of was Winston, the dog he killed by hitting his spine with the broom, and the terror for my grandson, now alone in his care, took on a new, higher pitch, silent, yet shrill.

Thirty-Four

thirty-four:

– before –

I stood there, staring at the door shut against me. The memory of my son’s voice mocked me. To come back and claim his son from me, I suspected, was all for this moment. To call me Granny, was just to hurt me. To remind me. Because although I loved Jack like he was my son, he was my grandson. Of course my son – my Jack – was all grown up now, and, even though he’d become a father to the sweetest little boy ever – his Jack – he himself was still as spiteful as he’d ever been.

My Jack of a thousand kicks and punches. His Jack with the stutter and pupil awards.

My son was back and now he had decided to reclaim his abandoned son and play Daddy – and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

He didn’t have to say it, but I heard it like he wanted me to: Jack is mine, not yours.

I remember the day he killed Winston. I shouldn’t have taken to my bed that day; shouldn’t have left my son unsupervised with Winston. I was just so upset. I had received a letter from his school; the contents were so painful that I’d necked 4 mg of diazepam and pulled the duvet over my head. I was so exhausted by being his mother, I just didn’t even want to see him.

The letter was the formal notice of what I already knew. I had been told by his headmaster that they wouldn’t have him back after Easter, that he was being expelled. But until I received the official notification, I’d still dared to hope. The letter killed that hope.

A week before the Easter term break, he (not Jack, it can’t be since beautiful Jack now shares his name and my son refuses to call me Mum, I just won’t muddle the two) – he had assaulted another boy with a pair of scissors, so badly that the child’s earlobe had to be stitched back on. What was worse was that they’d had to persuade my son to give the earlobe back so they could put it on ice.