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

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      ‘It’s—’

      With her heart racing, Lucy shook her head. ‘Don’t say complicated.’

      Lucy had never been given much information about the events surrounding her father’s death and as a result, she had spent most of her life making up her own theories. Her greatest fear of late was that whatever had been wrong with her dad had been passed on to his daughter, lying in wait until she was at her most vulnerable.

      ‘But it was complicated, love,’ Christine said.

      ‘Complicated how? What was so bad that he felt he couldn’t bear to spend another day with the daughter he idolized?’

      ‘He wasn’t thinking straight.’

      ‘I know that,’ Lucy said, her words strangled by twenty years of pain. ‘No one in their right mind jumps off a bridge for no apparent reason. Why did he do it, Mum? Were there any warning signs? Why wasn’t he thinking straight? Was he ill?’

      Christine had never spoken of the possibility that Lucy’s dad had suffered from a mental illness, but Lucy was beginning to understand how something like that could creep up on a person. He could have been hiding it from everyone, even himself.

      Closing her eyes briefly, Christine bowed her head and refused to meet her daughter’s gaze. ‘It was because of me,’ she said at last. ‘Your dad and I had a strong relationship when we first married and we told each other everything. But as time went on, we got in the habit of saying nothing rather than worrying or hurting each other. Eventually, we fell out of practice of talking at all except through you. You were the glue that kept us together.’

      A shudder ran down Lucy’s spine. If she had been the glue that had kept her family together, why wasn’t she sitting there with both her parents? What had been wrong with her dad? What was wrong with her? Lucy could feel herself shutting down in panic – did she really want to know how bad things could get?

      ‘My biggest regret is that the last time we talked, we argued and I never got the chance to put things right,’ Christine confessed in a whisper.

      Her quivering voice gave Lucy the excuse she needed to retreat from the past. ‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it’s been playing so much on my mind lately.’

      ‘You’re about to become a parent yourself and it’s natural to want to look back, but you need to concentrate on what lies ahead.’

      ‘I am,’ Lucy said, her half-empty cup trembling in her hand as she set it down. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’d better make a move.’

      Lucy worked her way to the edge of the sofa and arched her back as she stood. She was about to put her phone in her handbag when it beeped.

      ‘Another apology?’ asked Christine.

      Lucy grimaced as she read the message. ‘Actually, it’s from Hannah. She wants to know if I still want the kitten. They’re ready to leave their mum.’ Her friend was practically begging her to take one.

      ‘You’re not seriously considering it, are you?’

      An image of wilting roses flashed through Lucy’s mind but she pushed it away. Adam had said she’d be fine looking after a cat and she had read somewhere that animals had a positive effect on mental health. A kitten would brighten her day and, more importantly, build her confidence in time for the birth of her daughter. Those poor kittens needed homes and even Adam had felt sorry for them.

      ‘It would be nice to have some company through the week, and Adam quite likes the idea,’ she said. She was stretching the truth a little, but he had talked about the addition of a cat to their household as if it were a fait accompli.

      ‘But you’re going to have your hands full as it is when the baby arrives.’

      Lucy turned her phone to show her mum the photo Hannah had sent of a fluffy ginger kitten with a handwritten sign in front of it that read, ‘I love Lucy.’

      Christine pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and smiled at the image. ‘Aww, he is cute.’

      ‘You could get one too. I don’t think she has homes for all of them yet.’

      ‘At least one of us has to keep hold of our senses,’ Christine warned.

      If the comment was meant to dissuade her daughter from making a rash decision, it had the opposite effect.

      ‘He’s been de-flead and wormed but I’ll get him health checked anyway and neutered when he’s old enough. By the time the baby comes, he’ll be all settled in. I might even pick him up on my way home,’ Lucy said, liking the idea of snuggling up with a purring kitten that very night.

      ‘Shouldn’t you run it past Adam first?’

      ‘After tonight, I really don’t think he’s in any position to object. Do you?’

      ‘But you’re not prepared! You’ll need food and a litter tray.’

      ‘And cat litter, and food bowls, toys, a collar, and a bed,’ Lucy said as her musings turned into a firm decision. ‘And possibly a hot-water bottle to keep him warm until he gets used to not having his brothers and sisters around. There’s at least one twenty-four-hour supermarket on my way home. I can work fast.’

      With a plan forming in her mind, Lucy messaged Hannah to let her know she was on her way. Her next message was to Adam, warning him that there was a surprise coming and as she pressed send, Christine picked up the coat Lucy had flung across the back of the sofa.

      ‘Are you sure this is a good idea, love?’

      ‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ she said as she slipped on her coat. ‘I’m glad I came in for that cuppa now.’

      Lucy was grinning as she dug her hands into her pockets for her car keys, but her smile quickly faded.

      ‘I can’t find my keys. What have I done with them?’ she said as she searched her handbag. When her fingers failed to connect with anything vaguely key-shaped, she shook it close to her ear in case her sense of touch had deceived her.

      Christine disappeared into the hall, and returned a moment later. ‘You didn’t leave them by the door.’

      ‘You don’t think they’re still in the ignition, do you?’

      ‘No, I’m sure I remember you locking up.’

      Seeing the furrows deepen on her mum’s brow, Lucy knew she wasn’t certain. She had parked her little Fiat 500 on the road, and for all she knew, someone could have driven off while she sat contemplating whether or not she was responsible enough to take ownership of a kitten. She rushed past her mum and out of the house. The car was where she had left it and when she pulled the handle on the passenger door, she found it locked, confirming she couldn’t have left the keys inside. Nevertheless, Lucy cupped her hands around her face and pressed her nose against the window. The keys weren’t there.

      ‘Lucy!’ shouted her mum from the doorway, her arm raised. ‘I found them!’

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