BooksBarbecue
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

Yes. Their crying sounds like tortured children and it’s always scared me, misplaced city girl that I am. I’m from Brighton. And Bracknell. Now I live here in the countryside with Jack. I’ve been fighting for something but I can’t remember what. It’s hard to think when I feel so tired . . . I shut my eyes or perhaps the world is just greying . . .

. . . I’m drifting. My thoughts are the flashes of silver-sided eels in a strong, muddy river: brief, elusive, slippery. I can’t be sure of anything . . .

Then, I’m in a playground I’ve forgotten about. I’m feeling happy: sunshine yellow happy. I haven’t been here for a long time. Jack is on a swing and I’m pushing him. This is real: this has happened.

Jack is young and is wearing the cutest little short dungarees that show his pudgy legs, the type of baby podge that demands kisses and makes me want to squeeze them harder than I should. I read once that the word to describe this urge is called gigil – an overwhelming reaction to cuteness that the brain tries to shut down with aggression. I don’t know if this is true but I know that the sight of Jack’s squidgy legs makes me want to greedily bite them.

This is real – this has happened.

The sun is shining and there’s only the wispiest of clouds in the blue sky. The June weather is lovely – warm but with no press of heat. Everything is green and lovely and fresh. Jack and I have the park nearly to ourselves; I even turn from Winston’s save-me gaze through the railings of the children’s area. I love that dog, but for now just want to concentrate on Jack; I don’t want to have to think about anything else other than my beautiful son.

In this simple moment I love my baby and my love for Jack is simple and yet molten. Nothing is confused; nothing is complicated; nothing causes concern. He grew in my tummy and he is mine and I love him. The only thing that matters is that today it’s just us and it’s the start of summer and things might be different and things might improve and—

My lungs inhale suddenly as I lift my head off the kitchen floor and open my eyes again.

I’m back.

I see that the old lead-light windows are open and think: The bugs will get in! But the back door is very slightly ajar, swinging in the breeze, and I know that something much nastier than bugs has already got inside.

Everything instantly both hurts and is clear: Jack’s dad has come for us.

Five

five:

– before –