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Back When I Was Ten Save as PDF
Chapters (79)
  1. Cover
  2. WHEN I WAS TEN
  3. Dedication page
  4. Epigraph page
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. PART ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. PART TWO
  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. PART THREE
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  78. WHEN I WAS TEN
  79. Also by Fiona Cummins

The heat of her burned his resistance to ash.

48

The probation officer made mugs of tea, milky and sweet, and found some crumpets to toast. Then she sat the Allen family around the kitchen table and told them what would happen next.

‘The police will take you into protective custody for the time being and move you to a secret location as soon as the press attention has calmed down,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to live here again if you wish to maintain anonymity.’

You won’t be able to live here again.

Catherine glanced around the kitchen she loved so much. For twelve years, this had been the beating heart of their home. Curled-up paintings by five-year-old Honor pinned to the corkboard. An aloe vera plant on the windowsill, a gift from a friend on her twenty-eighth birthday. Laughter-filled meals and the smell of baking. Play-Doh and puzzles and games of Monopoly. Honor’s homework spread messily across the table. The golden threads of the ordinary life she had promised herself as reward for protecting her sister.

Her eyes swam with unshed tears. Eliza reached across the table and squeezed her fingers. Catherine replied with a not-quite-whole smile.

Eliza knew everything about Catherine’s past. Except for the truth.

Although Catherine would always remain on licence, it was months since she had seen her probation officer, but when the older woman had stepped through the front door and held out her arms, she had fallen into them, clinging to her like a life raft, exactly as she had done on the day she left the secure unit as a frightened eighteen-year-old, feeling her way in a changing world.

In the early years, they had met with planned regularity. But once a week had become once a month and once every six months until the need for supervision had faded. Catherine had always known that any breach of her conditions or act of violence could see her back in prison, but Eliza had been so impressed with the way she had assimilated into society she had recently talked about writing to the Secretary of State to request a cancellation of her supervision conditions.

The publicity would put paid to that.

‘What a fucking mess,’ Eliza had said on arrival, blunt as usual, patting Catherine on the back and then lighting a cigarette. ‘But we’ll get it cleaned up. Try not to worry.’

‘This is a no-smoking house.’ It was clear Edward was unimpressed.

‘We meet at last, Mr Allen. Glad I can put a face to the voice,’ Eliza had said, taking a drag, unperturbed by his hostility. ‘But I can hardly smoke out front with all them journalists.’ She had followed him to the back door without further complaint, cupping her palm to collect falling ash.

That had been half an hour ago and now the four of them were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing the next move.