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Back What I Never Told you Save as PDF
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

I reach out and grab the bottle of vodka, my hand gripping the cap so tightly, the metal teeth cut into my skin, leaving little speckles of blood. I drink long and deep, the burn in my throat matching the burn of my skin in the water.

I lie in the water for what feels like a lifetime, my mind moving between thoughts, revelations and accusations, the vodka slipping further down the bottle. When the water has cooled to the point where I feel shivery, I sit up. It is too much, too quick and I fall back into the water as dizziness unsettles me. The purple water splashes over the edge of the bath onto the tiles. I lean over the side and see myself reflected back in the puddle, my face a moving, blurring, distorted mask that I find hideous. I pull myself onto my knees, screw the lid back on the vodka and slowly get to my feet. Taking deep breaths, I step onto the mat, but my foot catches one of the pill bottles and it clatters to the floor. I grab at it as it rolls away.

Without thinking, I fumble with the child-safe lid until it finally loosens. I shake some pills into my hand and swallow them quickly, chasing them with a slug of the vodka.

I am naked, water still streaming from my limbs, soaking the floor. I wrap myself in a warmed towel and weave to my bed.

29

NOW

The walk back with Clive was brisk, his little legs pummelling along to keep pace with her, and they were both panting when she let them back into the house. Helen felt like she was coming unravelled at the seams. Nothing made sense.

It was like her life had morphed into the bundle of Christmas lights you pull from the loft every year, never sure whether you can untangle the knot and find the end, giving yourself one more go to undo the mess before you give up, only to plug them in and find that most of the bulbs are broken or missing.

She kicked off her trainers as Mills tore down the stairs, fully dressed and looking like she was going out. That in itself was weird. She was never up and dressed before noon on a weekend. She slammed to a stop when she saw Helen.

“Where are you going?” Helen said.

“Where have you been?”

“I took Clive out.”

Mills hadn’t returned the favour by answering Helen’s question.

“So where are you going?” she repeated.

Mills sighed and came up close to Helen, saying in a stage whisper, “I’m worried about Lydia.”

“Ok?” Helen’s heart was beating a little faster now, and not just from the walk.

“She’s just gone out. On her own.”

Lydia never went out on her own.