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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

I slip naked into the water and just stand for a moment, breathing in. Then I plunge under the water, feel it close over my head as I sink to the bottom. I weigh myself down, try to remain on the bottom for as long as I can. My eyes are open, my hands opaque in front of me as I tread water. Only when my lungs start to burn do I allow myself to bob to the surface again, annoyed that I couldn’t stay down there longer. I swim backwards and forwards, diving beneath the surface, seeing how far I can go in one breath, relishing that feeling of panic when my lungs run out of air.

*

When I let myself into the kitchen door, Martha is waiting, a tea towel wringing in her hands and a troubled look on her face.

“Oh, there you are! I was worried as it’s getting so late!”

I smile despite my sombre mood. “I’m fine, I just met Tracey after school, then went for a swim before coming in.” My hair is dripping down my back and I am cold from the walk back to the house.

She exhales with relief. “Let me make you a nice cup of tea. Pork chops for your tea tonight.”

“Thanks, Martha, but I have loads of revision to do and I’m not really hungry.”

She looks disappointed. “You might be later though. I’ll keep it under foil. You have to eat.”

“Thanks. Um, did anyone phone today? My parents maybe?”

“Sorry, love, not today, but with the time difference and everything, I guess it’s hard to find the right time.”

“Yeah, of course. No problem.” I’m annoyed at myself for asking the question and expecting a different answer.

That night I take a couple of my mother’s sleeping pills, just in case I have more dreams about my father’s cold hands around my neck, squeezing the air out of me.

33

NOW

Helen pulled the boxes away from the wall, but didn’t open them. They contained mostly paperwork relating to the house, her parents’ deaths, the subsequent inheritance and legal papers. None of that mattered right now.

There had been nothing unusual or strange about her parents’ deaths. One day Helen had received a call from a solicitor telling her that her mother had died from a relatively short illness and that she had inherited the family estate. Her mother had been in hospital with pneumonia before she died. Helen had had no idea she was ill. They hadn’t spoken in years. Helen was not surprised her mother had died so soon after her father. She had needed his very existence to get out of bed every day and once he was gone, her lungs couldn’t breathe on their own.