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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Dawn Goodwin
  3. WHAT I NEVER TOLD YOU
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. Acknowledgements
  55. About the Author
  56. An Invitation from the Publisher

Am I the version of myself that I am with Eloise? I used to think that was ok, but I’m starting to prefer the version that hangs out with Tracey. She is more open, engaging and actually has opinions of her own. She doesn’t have to dumb herself down. What I’m worried about is that the Eloise version is slowly morphing into my mother.

But how do I amalgamate the two?

And which of my friends will still want to know me if I do?

21

NOW

It felt like the pool house was her only sanctuary. The thick, heady air; the oppressive quiet; the darkened glass windows despite the bright daylight outside. She lay on her back in the warm water, floating with her eyes closed, supported, safe despite the visions of photographs dancing behind her tightly squeezed lids.

The more she thought about it, the more she thought the photo was put there for Hugh’s enjoyment. Maybe that was why Diana didn’t want to take things further with Matt. So Hugh had his secrets like the rest of them. Why was she so surprised? We never really get to know other people fully, do we? Most of us don’t even know ourselves, let alone anyone else. We only learn what they want us to see.

Helen was surprised at how upset she felt about it all. She and Hugh hadn’t been close for a while. He lived his life and she lived hers, albeit in the same house, and as long as there was no scandal or gossip and a quick fumble on a Friday evening, he was content to pretend they were a happily married couple.

So why did she marry him?

At the time, she had needed stability. She was a single mum with a young child. She had moved back to her hometown shortly after her parents’ death after years of what could only be described as rebellious debauchery in self-exile. Men, alcohol, short-lived jobs and even shorter-lived relationships. Periods when she had lived in her car, hopped from one couch to another, ate out of polystyrene containers and showered in community centre bathrooms.

Then, after a night where she actually couldn’t remember very much of anything at all, along came Mills, with her head of dark hair, green eyes and angry screams, and Helen knew she had to make some changes. Her second chance. Her parents were dead – her dad from a heart attack and her mother shortly after following a short illness, probably exacerbated by using alcohol and pills as her only nourishment for years – and Helen had inherited a home she hated, with all its trauma and secrets. But she needed a stable home for Mills, so she had returned.