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

As she hauled her legs off the chair to straighten up, Lucy’s feet thumped hard enough against the porcelain tiles to sting her heels. ‘I don’t know, an hour or two. Does it matter? Nothing happened.’

‘Thank goodness it didn’t, but why bother lying about it? If you could stop getting so wound up over these things, you’d relax more and maybe then you’d make fewer mistakes.’

‘I am relaxed!’ Lucy said as her finger drew sharp lines through the dust on the table to form two words in capital letters. There were a lot of ‘F’s.

When Adam didn’t respond, it was as if he could read what his wife had written. She hung her head in her hands and as she leant over the table, she felt a strange fluttering in her stomach – except it wasn’t in her stomach, but a spot lower down. It was the first time she had felt her baby move and for all Lucy knew, her daughter’s movements were signs of distress caused by her mother’s roiling emotions.

She wanted desperately to say something to Adam. Only the night before, he had splayed his hand across her stomach, impatient to feel a part of what had been exclusively her experiences of pregnancy so far. They needed to share this special moment together, but now was not the right time.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy reminded herself that none of this was Adam’s fault. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘It’s OK. Maybe I’m the one who needs to up my game. I could juggle my schedule and try to work from home more often.’

‘Except when you have to go to Manchester,’ she reminded him, proof that her short-term memory didn’t always misfire.

‘Isn’t it time you started to take things easy?’ he tried. ‘You could always stop taking commissions for a while. It’s not like you haven’t been slowing down already and I’m sure we could manage without your income.’

‘Painting isn’t simply a job, it’s my passion. I can’t not paint.’

‘Then paint for pleasure,’ Adam persisted as if he could solve her like one of his programs. ‘Let me worry about the bills. Please think about it, Lucy. Why don’t you go for a walk along the beach and clear your head?’

Glancing towards the tall beech tree in their neighbour’s garden swaying from side to side, she said, ‘Have you seen the weather?’

‘Then go somewhere indoors, go shopping.’

‘Maybe,’ she said as a means to halt Adam’s attempts to fix her. He meant well but if he threw one more suggestion at her, she was going to explode.

‘And when you do go out,’ Adam said, his voice rising as he sensed he was getting through to her, ‘make sure you turn everything off and lock up.’

Lucy’s lips cut a thin line across her face as she stared at the words written in the dust. She could feel them forming on her tongue and cut the call dead before they spilled out.

Lucy huddled against the corner of the large L-shaped sofa that took up most of the space in the living room. The black leather upholstery complemented the monotone colour scheme, as did the sixty-inch TV screen dominating one wall. With the exception of a couple of paintings Lucy had hung up to soften the sharp edges of Adam’s choice of décor, the entire house bore the hallmarks of a bachelor pad, although Lucy was grateful that no previous love had stamped her mark on the place before her.

There had been only one significant other in Adam’s life prior to Lucy, but Rosie had never moved in, which had been a lucky escape by all accounts. She had been a work colleague and had used Adam to rise up the career ladder by taking credit for his work and apportioning blame to everyone else when she messed up. Something had gone disastrously wrong and Adam had been forced to move jobs, but he had put his past mistakes behind him and Lucy was determined not to be the next.

Adam was different from the other men she had dated, and there had been quite a few. She had flitted from one casual affair to the next, avoiding commitment and responsibility as best she could. When Adam came along, the eight-year age difference had felt pronounced and she had been embarrassed by her immaturity. She had been a wild thing and he had tamed her, or so Adam told her. He was probably right, although Lucy was beginning to wonder if she had accepted the role of Adam’s wife under false pretences. She couldn’t be trusted to take care of herself or the house, and she didn’t know how she was going to look after a baby.

The transition might have been easier if she lived closer to her mum, but Lucy was getting used to life on the Wirral. She loved that it was a five-minute stroll to the beach, although that proposition had not been a tempting one today despite Adam’s helpful suggestion.

When she heard the front door opening, Lucy lifted her book higher to obscure her face. She hadn’t spoken to Adam since hanging up on him, nor had she replied to his text messages. He had apologized and she wished he hadn’t. She was the one acting like a child.

When the house fell silent, Lucy realized Adam had gone straight into the kitchen, confirmed a moment later when she heard the oven door slam. Adam had offered to pick up some food from Marks and Spencer on his way home and had asked her what she fancied. She wondered if he had responded to her radio silence by choosing his favourite cuisine, which was Chinese, or opting for hers. Her mouth watered at the thought of garlic dough balls; one of her many cravings in recent months.

Adam was head chef and they didn’t often resort to ready meals but she presumed he had thought his time would be better spent shoring up his wife’s fragile ego while keeping a safe distance from the offending gas hob. As the seconds ticked by, however, Lucy began to fear that he didn’t want to speak to her at all. She put down her book and tucked her knees as close to her chin as her bump would allow.

Rather than return to her studio after the argument, Lucy had spent the afternoon soaking in the bath and feeling sorry for herself. She had taken time on her make-up, which was perfectly understated, and had teased her damp mane into copper coils. She wore leggings and a sloppy jumper to give the illusion of vulnerability, but that feeling became unpleasantly real as she waited for Adam to appear.

Lucy chewed her lip and stared at the door as she listened to Adam coming out of the kitchen. Her pulse quickened when his footsteps paused and for a moment she feared he had retreated upstairs, but then the door swung open. A breakfast tray appeared with a single red rose in a vase, two glasses of what looked like pink champagne but would be sparkling cordial, and a bowl of cheese puffs; another of her cravings.

When Adam stepped through the door, his expression was one of caution, as if he were approaching a wild animal. ‘I know Valentine’s Day is a week off but I feel like I should make an effort,’ he said. ‘The lasagne’s going to be a while so these are to tide you over.’

Lucy went to speak but it came out as a sob. ‘I’m such an evil cow,’ she cried. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m being so horrible to you and I don’t deserve any of this!’

Hiding her face in shame, Lucy couldn’t see Adam’s reaction but she heard him place the tray on the coffee table. The sofa sagged and a moment later, he was pulling her into his arms. She heard him take a breath to speak but she got there first.

‘Don’t you dare say nice things to me,’ she warned. ‘Tell me I’m a bitch.’

He kissed the top of her head.

When she looked up into his face, she hoped their daughter would inherit Adam’s kind eyes. They melted her heart. ‘I know you’re only trying to take care of me.’

‘And failing miserably,’ he said.