The Bad Mother: The addictive, gripping thriller that will make you question everything. Amanda Brooke

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       7

      Hearing Adam’s car pull up outside, Lucy rested an elbow on the banister and settled into what she hoped was a casual pose. ‘How did it go with your mum?’ she asked as he stepped through the door.

      Adam blinked in surprise. ‘Erm, good thanks.’

      ‘I’ve made a beef stew,’ she said. ‘And don’t look so worried. I checked with mum and she talked me through it. It tastes really good even if I do say so myself. Are you hungry yet?’

      Adam slipped off his jacket and unfurled the scarf from around his neck. As he moved to the opposite side of the staircase to put his things away in the closet, Lucy repositioned herself in front of the kitchen door. The knot in her stomach tightened.

      ‘I had something to eat at Mum’s,’ he said, raking his fingers through his hair and scratching his head. ‘I thought you were going to suit yourself.’

      ‘But you never eat at your mum’s.’

      ‘I told you …’ His words trailed off. ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Why don’t you have something else and we’ll save the stew for tomorrow?’

      ‘But we’re at Mum’s tomorrow.’ She swallowed hard. ‘What doesn’t matter, Adam?’

      ‘What?’

      Her heart palpitations made for an unpleasant mix with her churning stomach. ‘You started to say something and then you said it doesn’t matter. Tell me.’

      Adam looked suddenly tired, or had Lucy simply not noticed how the worry lines criss-crossing his brow had deepened over the last few months? His cheeks were ruddy from being out in the cold but that didn’t explain his watery eyes.

      ‘I said this morning that I’d risk Mum’s cooking.’

      ‘No you didn’t!’ she said, not meaning to snap but unable to contain herself.

      She could recall the conversation in question quite clearly. They had been lying in bed, Lucy pressing Adam’s hand firmly on her belly as they waited in vain for him to feel her baby’s kicks. She would swear that she hadn’t lost track.

      More calmly, she added, ‘You didn’t say anything about eating at your mum’s. We talked about what might be lurking in the freezer, that’s why I wanted to use up the braising steak.’

      Adam raised his arm but couldn’t quite reach her, or he didn’t want to. ‘You’re right we did, and then I said how I might need to eat some humble pie, figuratively and literally.’

      ‘No, that’s not possible.’

      ‘So I didn’t say it?’

      ‘I’m not doubting you, but I don’t see how I could have forgotten something like that.’

      Passing a hand across his face, Adam said, ‘But Lucy, you are doubting me.’ He released a sigh with a hiss. ‘Fine! I’m the one having conversations with myself. I’m the one who leaves the gas rings on.’

      Adam made a move to go into the kitchen but Lucy stood her ground. ‘No, I’m not saying that.’

      ‘Yes, that’s exactly what you’re saying,’ he said, pushing past her. ‘I know you like to be little miss perfect and this stuff is driving you crazy, but have you ever stopped to think about what effect it’s having on me? You’re not the only …’

      Adam had walked past the gleaming kitchen cupboards and the bubbling stew to stop a few feet away from the dining table. The sun was going down and the spotlights Lucy had selectively switched on in the kitchen had left the dining area in shadow, but not the complete darkness she had hoped for.

      ‘Adam,’ she began.

      ‘What have you done to the flowers?’ he asked, his voice full of the hurt Lucy had wanted to spare him.

      She had thinned out the casualties and revived the remaining flowers as best she could using tricks she had searched for online, including snipping stems, adding sugar to the water and even something called the hat-pin trick. She had managed to prop up some of the weaker stems using the evergreen foliage but the end result was a haphazard arrangement of twigs and brown-edged blooms.

      ‘The water ran out and I hadn’t noticed.’

      Adam sank down on to a chair and pulled at a rose with mottled edges. ‘You let them die.’

      Lucy came behind him and folded her arms around his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean to. No one’s ever given me such a massive bunch of flowers before and I didn’t realize how much water they’d need. I’ve saved what I could.’

      Adam covered his face in his hands and whether it was deliberate or not, he pulled away from her as he bent forward. Lucy went with him, making her posture unnatural and uncomfortable, but she refused to let go.

      Adam exhaled. ‘I don’t seem to be able to get anything right.’

      Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. They were words she had flailed herself with so often and it seemed wrong, hearing them uttered by her forbearing husband. ‘Don’t say that.’

      ‘I can’t help thinking it’s because I’m not looking after you. I wanted to wow you with the flowers but they were too much. I can see that now.’

      Despite an overwhelming sense of guilt, Lucy felt a bite of anger too. If she were in a better frame of mind, if she wasn’t pregnant, if she wasn’t making so many stupid mistakes, she would tell Adam it was only a bunch of flowers. It wasn’t as if she had let a living creature die.

      But Lucy wasn’t in a better frame of mind so she СКАЧАТЬ