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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

With trembling fingers, she nudges the curtains apart, instinct warning her to be discreet.

On the road outside, there is a battalion of parked cars. A knot of figures in hats and gloves are gathered by her gate, their breath coming in smoky gasps. Television cameras. Lights. A babble of voices.

The urgent carousel of a police car’s beacon.

Catherine covers her mouth with her hand. She knows what this means and has prayed every night for more than twelve years – since that first, faint line on her pregnancy test – that it would not come to this. But the events of the last few days prove she’s been stupid to think otherwise.

She pulls on her jeans and a jumper and grabs the packed rucksack she keeps hidden in her wardrobe. Stumbles across the landing into Honor’s bedroom. The night light is on and she glimpses herself in her daughter’s mirror. Mousy hair, brown eyes, not overweight exactly, but a comfortable body. An ordinary thirty-one-year-old woman.

Forgettable.

The girl mumbles something unintelligible. A tear trickles down Catherine’s cheek. She presses her palm against her daughter’s face and feels something inside her break.

‘Wake up, Honor. We have to go now, sweetheart.’

Her daughter kicks out a restless foot and turns towards the wall. Catherine shakes her again, more forcibly this time. When Honor doesn’t react, she tugs at the duvet. ‘It’s time to leave. Come on, love. Get up.’

Mussed-up hair and screwed-up eyes. One pyjama trouser halfway up her leg. A yawn, and through that, a mumble. ‘What’s happening, Mum?’

Someone bangs on the front door.

Time slows. Catherine is aware of each catch of her breath and drum strike of her heart. Edward is awake now too. She can hear him, moving about in their bedroom. Every part of her longs to freeze this moment, to protect her girl from Before and After, and preserve the life she has made for herself and her family. The life she never expected to have.

But while she possesses a great many talents, she is not yet able to stop time.

In one minute and twenty-six seconds, Catherine Allen will be dead.

2

Three days earlier –

Monday, 10 December 2018

Catherine had never understood that song. She liked Mondays. To her, Mondays meant a new week, and every new week pulled her further from her past.