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

‘Speaking of which, I might need a favour from you. Do you remember my nan and grandad?’

Lucy had a vague recollection of gate-crashing a family party. ‘The ones who celebrated their diamond wedding?’

‘And some,’ Hannah said. She paused to look up and scowl at the gull screeching above her head. ‘My nan died on Christmas Eve and, as awful as it was for us, it’s been devastating for Grandad. He’s eighty-two and he says he’s managing on his own but he misses Nan. He talks to her photos all the time and I was just thinking, it might be nice if the family clubbed together and had a portrait painted of her, and I know you’d do a bloody good job. Would you?’

Lucy’s heart clenched. She was putting the final touches to Ralph’s portrait and hadn’t yet decided what to do next. Adam’s idea of painting simply for pleasure was a tempting one and her walk around Marine Lake had already given her some ideas. ‘The way I am at the moment, Hannah, I’m not sure I’d do a painting like that justice.’

‘Still the perfectionist?’

‘I guess so,’ Lucy said with a sigh.

As they retraced their steps along the promenade, Lucy thought about the sure-footed woman Hannah assumed her still to be. The old Lucy got things right first time and never thought to double-check her work. Lucy missed her. Her new life was more of an illusion made up of smoke and mirrors, but if she could somehow carry on pretending to be the person everyone expected her to be, she might stand a chance of believing in herself again.

‘I tell you what, why don’t you send me some photos of your nan and even if I can’t do it now, I promise it’ll be my first job once I’ve had the baby and I’m free of all these stupid hormones.’ When Hannah screwed up her face, she added, ‘I know, I know, it’s not going to be easy with a new baby in tow, but Adam’s promised to work from home more and Mum’s cutting back on her hours so she can help too. I really do want to do it, Hannah. I wouldn’t even charge you.’

‘Firstly, of course we’ll pay for it, and waiting isn’t a problem,’ Hannah said. ‘The reason I’m hesitating is because I think Grandad needs to pick out the right photo. Maybe I could bring him along next time we meet and you can help him choose?’

Lucy’s face broke into a smile, liking the idea of another excuse to meet up. ‘That sounds perfect.’

‘Then the job’s yours,’ Hannah said as they reached the spot where they had met. After making their goodbyes, Hannah gave Lucy a fierce hug and as Samson dragged her away, she called back, ‘Don’t forget about the kitten!’

Lucy kept her smile all the way home. Adam had been wrong to worry that Hannah would make her feel worse. After simply one breezy walk along the promenade, Lucy felt so much better. And if meeting her friend was to prove a point, the point was she missed her. As was the norm with Hannah, she had put temptation in Lucy’s path, and not only the kitten, but the commission too. Lucy often painted portraits that came with stories that could break her heart, but the tears were worth it when she saw the expressions on her clients’ faces, especially when she added those little extra details that would mean something to the family; like Ralph’s slipper.

When Lucy reached home and found herself testing the lock on the front door yet again before going inside, she resented the relief that washed over her. She peeled off her layers and wandered into the kitchen where her eyes were immediately drawn to the gas hob. There was no blue flame because she had checked it at least three times before leaving the house. Why did she doubt herself at every turn?

Lucy switched on the kettle and dropped a teabag into a mug and as she waited for the water to boil, she played with a sprinkling of crumbs lurking on the countertop behind her jar of herbal teas. She crushed a particularly large clump into dust before sweeping the debris in her hand. The trails left behind were a level of messiness she could live with, and she doubted Hannah would consider it a mess at all, but Adam would notice and she would finish the job properly before he came home.

With her tea brewing, Lucy sat at the table to pull off her boots – which she would purposefully and consciously put away under the stairs before getting the rest of the house in order. Her feet were swollen and as she tugged at the first boot, her knee knocked against the table and a shower of petals rained down on to its surface.

The bouquet Adam had given her for Valentine’s Day took up most of the table top. Lucy hadn’t wanted to disturb the stunning arrangement so had left it in its pink box with its own water reservoir. She had added the sachet of food to prolong the life of the blooms but to her dismay, they were shrivelling up before her eyes. Many of the roses were denuded of petals and their stems drooped over the edge of the Cellophane cuff.

After pulling off her other boot, Lucy lifted the bouquet only for more petals to fall to their death. The box was lighter than she expected and as she tilted it from side to side, she felt no movement of water. She had topped it up the night before and it seemed impossible that the flowers would use up that much water so quickly, which left her wondering if it had been the night before. Cursing under her breath, she rushed to fetch a jug, knowing it was already too late.

This was why she doubted herself. Adam had wanted to spoil her by giving her a bouquet that rivalled the one his mum had received from Scott, but if they were meant to be a symbol of their relationship, Lucy was in trouble.

7 (#ulink_d882eae9-dde6-51ab-8188-4928281d9687)

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.’