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

The question of décor, however, had yet to be agreed. She planned to paint a mural and had initially dreamt up a gender-neutral scene with forest animals. That had been back when they hadn’t known the sex of the baby and Lucy had assumed they would be using her old cot with its squirrel and bunny rabbit motif. Lately, she had toyed with the idea of unicorns dancing on fluffy white clouds, but she had yet to convince Adam about having so much sky blue as the background colour in a little girl’s room.

‘What colour did you get?’

Adam returned to the bags and pulled out a five-litre pot of silk emulsion. It took all of Lucy’s self-control not to pull a face. ‘Pink,’ she said, flatly.

‘Obviously. You were right, it’s the only colour we could have picked. I did look at a pastel shade, but it’s such a small room and I thought this would make a bigger impact.’

Adam looked so pleased with himself that Lucy had to stop herself from pointing out that the deep shade he had chosen would make the room appear twice as small. She had no idea what had given him the impression she wanted any shade of pink as the backdrop for her mural, but she must have said something, so she concentrated on how she could work with what she had. It was entirely possible that unicorns lived in a world with bubble-gum-pink skies, and she could always make the clouds bigger and fluffier. ‘I can’t wait to get started.’

Adam shook his head. ‘Oh no, you’re not coming near it. All that stretching won’t be good for you and we can’t have you getting paint on your new clothes,’ he said, suppressing a smile when he added, ‘Although that shirt thing you’re wearing would make a good coverall when you’ve finished with it.’

‘You don’t like it?’ she asked, tugging at the hem and giving Adam a chance to reconsider. It was getting harder to feel attractive and a little white lie was all she needed.

‘I was joking, Luce. But if you’re feeling that pregnant,’ he said, glancing at her expanding girth that was emphasized by the smock, ‘it’s all the more reason not to take on more than you have to. It’s rest for you from now on.’

‘But I need to paint the mural.’

‘Oh, add that at a later date,’ he said with a waft of the hand. ‘You don’t seem to know how to slow down, and I’m sorry, but after last night, I’m putting my foot down. You invest too much of yourself in those pictures of yours and it’s been draining you.’

With the memory of their most recent argument haunting her, Lucy wasn’t ready for another, and besides, he had a point. ‘OK, I will take it easier,’ she said, which in her mind didn’t mean giving up completely. ‘No mural, but I do have to go out tomorrow. I think I’ve found a buyer for my new paintings.’

‘Don’t tell me, a housewife with more money than sense,’ guessed Adam.

Lucy didn’t correct him. Adam might suggest tagging along if he knew she were meeting a strange man on her own, and like he said, he had work to do.

‘I promise I won’t be out for long, I’m going to the café at Carr Farm garden centre and I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘It’s probably better that you’re not around to distract me.’

As if her presence alone were distraction enough, Adam put down the paint pot and took Lucy in his arms. ‘Hungry?’ he asked, and when Lucy smiled hopefully, he laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Later. I need sustenance.’

‘Me too,’ she admitted as all her anxieties fell away. ‘All I’ve had is a bowl of soup today and I didn’t finish that.’

Her ears pricked as she heard a gentle thud from the living room followed by a tiny mewl. Her kitten sounded more like a baby chick than a cat, and his chirping grew louder and more desperate as he searched for someone to take care of him.

‘Have we still got steak in the fridge?’ asked Adam, only to glance over his shoulder and add, ‘Or have you fed it to the cat?’

‘He’s a kitten, not a tiger,’ she said. ‘Hey, maybe that’s what we should call him. Tigger.’

‘Whatever. Your cat, your choice.’

Adam had forgiven her, but not enough to register more than a passing interest in their new addition, and he disappeared into the kitchen while Lucy crouched down to pick up the kitten. She caught up with Adam in time to hear him mutter something under his breath. Her blood ran cold. She could smell gas.

She watched in dismay as Adam raced to the patio doors and flung them open. ‘I didn’t leave the gas on,’ she said with absolute certainty. ‘I used the hob to heat up my soup but I definitely turned it off, and I checked it was off I don’t know how many times. It wasn’t on.’

Adam’s eyes narrowed.

Holding the kitten against her chest, Lucy could feel its tiny heart beating as fast as hers. ‘I – I suppose it’s possible I lowered the burner but didn’t turn it off completely. Was there a flame?’ she asked.

‘No, but it’s fine. These things are sent to try us,’ Adam said, looking at the cat.

She couldn’t read his expression as he approached, and for a split second she felt blinded by a flood of adrenaline – or fear. Holding on tightly to the kitten, she said, ‘I’m really, really s—’

‘Don’t say sorry,’ Adam ordered. ‘We both know you can’t help the way you are, especially when you’re so easily distracted.’

With some hesitation, Lucy was drawn into his arms with the kitten pressed between them and temporarily hidden from Adam’s sight.

‘It could be my hormones,’ Lucy offered, preferring the less terrifying explanation for her worsening condition. ‘And it won’t be for ever.’

‘Won’t it?’

The draught forcing its way through the kitchen was bitterly cold but as Adam kissed her forehead, Lucy felt a warmth rise up from her chest and she became choked with emotion. ‘I’m not my dad and I will do better – for as long as you’re willing to put up with me.’

Adam pulled away without giving her the answer she had been searching for. ‘You shouldn’t stay in here. The fumes won’t be good for you or the baby. Go and watch your garbage TV while I get on with the cooking.’

Lucy didn’t move. She wanted to tell him that she cared about their baby too. She would never repeat history and leave him with a child to bring up on his own, but to say such a thing would be to admit that the possibility existed. It wasn’t that she would ever do anything deliberately but, as the fading scent of gas in the air proved, she posed a real threat to the safety of herself and those around her – including her unborn child.

‘Go!’ Adam said, his eyes full of playful light.

Her husband seemed to have accepted her carelessness but Lucy knew that now was not the time to let her guard down.

Lucy had arrived to meet her potential buyer at Carr Farm but before heading over to the garden centre and the café, she felt compelled to check the boot. To her relief, she hadn’t imagined the struggle it had taken to fit three canvases into the limited space, and Mr Judson’s trip over from Southport wasn’t going to be wasted.

The garden centre was surprisingly busy for an overcast Thursday afternoon, and if Lucy hadn’t been there to sell her paintings she might have been tempted to take a look around, not that she would be buying any plants after last year’s fiasco. She had tried her best to nurture the raspberry and blueberry shrubs, but her best hadn’t been good enough and their leaves had blackened long before they had a chance to bear fruit.

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