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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

As the doctor had said, these night terrors could be a manifestation of anxiety, of hidden concerns or stresses, the subconscious flexing its muscles. But terrifying as it was to witness her daughter in the grip of an attack, they were a recent affliction, most likely caused by surging hormones or friendship worries. Honor didn’t mean anything by it. She couldn’t know the truth about Catherine’s past. She was asleep and had no sense of what she was saying.

On the carpet, the book of fables lay open, its pages spread out like a fan. She had bought it for Honor on her eighth birthday, when her daughter was still pleading for bedtime stories.

She picked it up, feeling the heft of it in her hands, the moon spotlighting the printed ink. ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’. Another of Honor’s childhood favourites.

She read a sentence or two, the opening lines as comforting as a warm blanket, and it calmed her.

These night-time episodes left Catherine feeling bruised and worn-down, emotion sucked from her until she was paper-dry inside. The events of earlier that day – Honor’s truancy, Edward’s snappiness and the shocking and unexpected reappearance of her sister – had heightened that feeling. She yawned. Time for bed. Tomorrow was a new day.

She closed the book, but not before she had read the last line, the moral of the story. The words made her heart thump with guilt and shame.

‘For none believes the liar, even when they speak the truth.’

You like the idea of a secret code? Well, I’ll let you into a secret if you promise not to tell. Beatrice is not my real name. Names, I’ve discovered, can be a burden. I expect you can guess why I chose it as my avatar, knowing our shared love of a certain Shakespeare play.

Like you, I live down south. It’s a simple existence. It took me many years to find my place in the world and preserving it has become the purpose of my life. I would fight with everything I have to protect it.

I don’t have much family – it’s a long and complicated story for another time – but I’ve learned to accept it, although it still breaks my heart. Even when life is full in other ways, it is possible to be lonely. Empty days and hollow nights. Plays tricks on you, the silence.

You said you felt lonely sometimes. What about your family? Are you close?

7

Tuesday, 11 December 2018

‘There was so much blood. That’s what I remember most. I know it sounds strange, but I was only twelve. I had no idea a body could hold all that.’ Shannon Carter’s voice cracks. A silence electrifies the newsroom. ‘It was warm and smelled of pennies.’