What Have I Done? Read Online Free PDF Page A

understand that Dad was my dad no matter what he did
or didn’t do. I miss and mourn him because he was my dad and before this all happened he was a great dad. I was proud that he was the Head. It made me feel special at school. I can only remember being really happy when I was with him, never anything else. I also mourn you too, Mum. You were my ‘background noise’ – always there and always doing something, and now my world feels silent because I’ve lost you. I have lost you both.
    ‘No you haven’t, darling. I’m right here!’
    Kate’s voice was a strained whisper, her vocal chords taut with distress.
    Dom and I talk about it sometimes, not all the time as you might expect, but sometimes. It’s like we have a secret and when we discuss it we do it in a whisper. If we can work it out with dates and stuff, we will try and come down to see you at half-term.
    I miss you and I love you as ever,
    Lyds xx
    Kate held the paper against her chest and hugged the words to her breast. She knew Lydia was right: your dad was your dad no matter what he did or didn’t do and she would never try to influence her beautiful kids one way or another. She had protected them their whole lives and she would continue to do so.
    One sentence burned brighter than any other: ‘
we will try and come down to see you at half-term
’. The very idea of seeing the kids made her feel giddy. Her stomach muscles clenched with anticipation. She was allowed two sixty-minute visits every four weeks. She had only ever had two, one from a court-appointedchaplain and one last year from Francesca, who had travelled the length of the country to sit for an hour in the strained confines of the visiting room. Kate had assured her that her time would be better spent in Hallton, making things as comfortable as possible for Dom and Lydi. The hour had passed in minutes and the two had grasped each other’s hands awkwardly and whispered inadequate goodbyes through their tears. It had been horrible.
     
    Four weeks passed, then six, then eight. Kate stopped counting. They weren’t coming.
    Kate now accepted that the more time passed, the less likely they were to visit. It was as if the cavern they would have to cross grew wider and more treacherous with each passing day. The only visitor she could rely upon was her best friend, Natasha, whose first trip to Marlham was one that she would never forget. It had been some weeks into her sentence, when she was alerted by the particular squeak of the guard’s rubber soles.
    ‘You’ve got a visitor, Kate.’
    ‘What?’
    She had heard perfectly, but was so stunned by the words, she wanted them repeated for confirmation. The warder pushed open her cell door. Kate was momentarily confused. It was so rare for her to have a visitor she had forgotten the drill. She felt a split-second flicker of dismay that her reading was about to be disrupted; Paulo Coelho would just have to wait. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, her mouth went dry.
    Lydia, Dominic, or both: who had finally decided to come?
Oh please let it be both,
she prayed. Her hands shook inside her smock pocket. She teased her fringe with her fingertips as she paced the corridor, impervious to the fact that the state of her hair would be the least of her children’s worries.
    The visiting room was functional and austere, smaller than she had imagined. Square tables and plastic chairs like the ones in the Mountbriers school hall sat uniformly in three rows of four. Security cameras blinked from every corner. The linoleum floor had been polished to a high shine.
God help anyone in socks,
thought Kate as she peered through the safety glass at the top of the door.
    The visitors were already in situ, with some of her fellow inmates seated opposite them. It was fascinating for Kate to see the women she lived with interacting with their families and friends. A brassy, blonde scrapper called Moll was crying as she squinted at a photograph.
Not such a tough nut