Page 42 of Making a Killing

Bell grins happily and sticks the car in gear.

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MY SHADOW JOURNAL

How can you recognise your Shadow at work?

Every time you feel a negative emotion, or act in a way that makes you angry, guilty or ashamed, that’s a sign that your Shadow is in play. Instead of blaming yourself when you feel or behave this way (‘I’m such a horrible person’, ‘There’s something wrong with me’) learn to identify where these emotions and behaviours originate, as the first step to integrating your Shadow into a more fully present and accepted Self.

There are a number of ways you can do this, and here are four of the most important: identifying yourtriggers(things that prompt you to act in a specific way, often without conscious thought), listening to yourdreams(we’ll cover this in more detail in a later session), being aware of yourpatterns(circumstances, relationships, or decisions that you find yourself repeating time after time, even when they’ve been damaging in the past), and reflecting on yourchildhood(issues that are still unresolved, traumas that remain with you, or memories that continue to cause distress). In today’s exercise, we’ll be looking at number four, and how understanding, lovingand – if necessary – forgiving your inner child can move you towards a more fulfilled and self-compassionate life.

Today’s exercise

Find a quiet place and spend a few moments breathing deeply, with your eyes closed. In your mind, take yourself back to a formative event in your childhood. Something that you believe still affects you today. What was it? How did it impact you? How does it continue to influence your life today? Describe the event and its consequences below.

So we’re only on exercise two and the sky is already black with chickens coming home to roost. But I guess that’s the point.

So.

That summer.

Sounds like one of those vomit-inducing high school movies. ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ or ‘The Summer I Turned Pretty’. Only mine was ‘The Summer It Turned Shitty’. The summer it all went wrong. Not that I thought that at the time, obvs. At the time I thought I had it all worked out, I prided myself on how clever I was being. Ha ha ha. But like I keep saying, I was only eight. And I was miserable. Really, genuinely miserable. I couldn’t see any other way.

But I found a rescuer. Though if we’re doing this brutal honesty thing, I suppose that’s not true. I didn’t find one, I made one.

It took a long time, that’s the first thing I remember. I had to learn to be patient, which I’d never been good at and am still crap at it, even now. I had to take my time, coax and be coaxed. And yes, I suppose it does sound like grooming. It didn’t occur to me back then, butI guess I was just too young. But now, yes, maybe. Only in reverse, of course.

It felt like forever but it can’t have been more than that summer term. Six weeks of drip drip dripping things out. How I wasn’t happy at home, how I was ‘afraid of the dark’, and all those loaded references to monsters. I kept thinking I was overdoing it – like, how thick can a person be? – but it was the fairy story that finally did it. Even I was impressed with that. I can’t remember all the details but it was called ‘The Sad Princess’ and she was sad because she was imprisoned in a measly little hut by a wicked witch and a monster who looked like a pig. She tried to run away but the monster came to her room at night and hurt her. Then a prince came and she thought he would set her free only he was mean to her instead. She cried a lot and did not live happily ever after.

The useless prince was bloody Jamie, of course, and as for the witch and the pig, well, like, duh. And I made sure there was a whole ton of spelling mistakes in it too. Sharon checked every last scrap of homework I ever did, and I wanted her to really take her time with this one, word by fucking word. I was curious whether she’d notice, if she’d work out what it really meant. But of course she didn’t. The only thing that interested her was telling me what I’d got wrong. She always enjoyed that bit.

And it worked. All that ‘evidence’ that incriminated Sharon. We did that. Together. It was easy. All of it. We conned them all.

And then we were hiding, in that flat, for a month. 28 days to be exact. I know because they were crossed off on the calendar like a jail sentence. Which as I kept having drummed into me, would happen for real if thepolice ever found out. And as for me, I’d have to go home. And that was way, way worse.

But I never believed it. Not really. I didn’t think the police were clever enough. Not as clever as us anyway. Except maybe that Adam Fawley. I saw him on TV, talking about me. Which was weird. Like that physics thing about being in two places at once. Though not as weird as seeing them doing the appeal to get me back. What a shit-show. Sharon all dolled up like Barbie and poor Leo, just a rabbit in the headlights. I really thought he was going to throw up. And as for Barry, he spent the whole time fake-blubbing and doing anything he could think of not to show his face. I knew why, of course. I’d seen all those sex messages on that phone he thought no one knew about. I’d smelled the back of his car when he’d been out the night before ‘seeing a client’.

I reckon that Adam Fawley had the measure of him too. I could see the way he looked at him. That’s how I knew he was smart. Maybe a bit too smart – maybe even smart enough to get to the truth –

And then for the first time I was worried, just a bit, and asked – casual, like, whether it was that man Fawley who’d come asking questions, but no, turned out it was another man, a cocky little DS, and a woman DC who wore dull clothes. And I breathed a sigh of relief and didn’t mention it again.

And then, after all the hiding, and the terror, and the journey which could have gone wrong too only didn’t, there we were on the first night of our new lives that were going to be so happy and amazing, only it was at some grimy B&B, and I should have realised then and there that something was off. And then I was being satdown and told to listen because there was something I had to do. I’d begged to be rescued and I had been and now I had to make a promise in return. No one was ever to know what we had done. No one. It didn’t matter how close I might get to someone, however much I might love them or think I did, even if it was years and years in the future, nobody was evereverto be told.

It was our secret, and if I broke my promise everything would be ruined and our new life would disappear just like the fairy coach in Cinderella and I’d be forced to go back to Barry and Sharon. And hearing that, of course I said yes, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die.

Hope to die. Ha fucking ha.

***

Adam Fawley

25 July 2024

14.20

Back in the St Aldate’s incident room and it feels like I’ve never left. And not in a good way. I’m there first, which turns out to be a mistake as I end up doing a mother-of-the-bride ‘how lovely to see you’ handshake thing as everyone files in, which feels even weirder to me than it must to them. There are three or four new faces I don’t recognize, but Harrison’s been true to his word and reassembled as many of my old team as he could. And as I look round I have to remind myself that their lives have moved on too – they aren’t frozen in time, or in their old roles, any more than I am. Though some have definitely changed more than others. Baxter’s lost a ton of weight, for a start – not quite literally, but near enough – and he looks way better forit. Everett looks different too, though it’s subtler. Something about the hair, the clothes. Like she’s taking better care of herself, investing a bit more in first impressions. She’s been a DS three months now, so maybe that’s why. That was a promotion that was long overdue. Chloe Sargent seems to have changed the least, but then again, I don’t know her so well, so maybe I’m not so alert to the nuance. She’s at the back, sitting quietly, taking it all in; very little got past her. It’s good to see Tony Asante back too. He, for one, has never lacked the inclination – or the money – to invest in his appearance: the last time I saw that tie was in the window of Ede & Ravenscroft. Harrison’s let me have him on loan from Major Crimes, where he made DS in six months and is now on the fast track to Inspector. And not just because it’ll help the diversity stats, either; Major Crimes really rate him. And up at the front, taking a seat next to me, Bryan Gow, whose attendance probably qualifies as a ‘Special Guest Appearance’. Ever since the follow-upInfamousseries on the Camilla Rowan case, he’s been on TV every couple of months, and evidently loving every minute of it:Murdertown,Cold Case Files; he even did aWives with Knives,which had Alex squealing with glee. The money must be better than what we pay him, too, if that suit is anything to go by.

And last, not least, and also up here at the front, Gis. Gis. The man I chose to be godfather to Lily, and who loves her like the daughter he’s never had. There’s only one Gis.

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