Читать книгу The Bad Mother: The addictive, gripping thriller that will make you question everything - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 15

Lucy was sprawled on the sofa with her laptop resting on a cushion and a ginger ball of fur balanced on the generous swell of her stomach. The kitten, who had been in her care for less than a day, paddy-pawed her gently as she sifted through emails and politely declined a couple of requests for portraits. The one message she couldn’t dismiss was from someone who wasn’t looking for a commission at all, but expressed an interest in her most recent work. What little savings Lucy had wouldn’t last for ever and an extra boost to her income would delay the day she had to ask Adam for pin money.

Her potential buyer was interested in all three paintings and Lucy was in the process of arranging a viewing. She knew better than to invite someone she didn’t know into her home, especially a man. Adam had given her a lecture the first time she had suggested it, and although she had accused him of being more jealous than concerned, he did have a point.

She had been about to send an email suggesting they meet at a local coffee shop when she heard Adam’s car pull up on to the drive. Setting her laptop to one side, she lifted the kitten and tried not to wake him as she placed him on the warmed cushion. He opened his milky blue eyes and gave her a curious look before settling back to sleep.

Adam’s keys rattled as he opened the front door and Lucy’s smile tightened as she waited patiently. When he didn’t appear, she heaved herself up, tugging up her leggings and smoothing out the olive-green smock before padding barefoot to the door. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she thought she heard the rustle of shopping bags, followed by silence.

The door creaked as she opened it slowly, making her flinch. She had assumed Adam was in the kitchen but he peeked his head around the other side of the staircase. He had put his coat away in the closet but his scarf remained snug round his neck. ‘I thought I heard you creeping about.’

There was no telling from Adam’s expression how he was feeling and, if anything, it confirmed he shared her sense of confusion. ‘Hello,’ she said.

Lucy had spent the day going over what had happened after driving back from her mum’s the night before. She wasn’t sure if she was more scared that she couldn’t remember parts of their argument, or that she didn’t want to. Her strongest memory was of Adam’s first words.

‘What the hell’s that?’ he had asked when she had stumbled into the house laden with pet supplies and a kitten making woeful cries for his mum and litter mates.

‘We said we wanted a kitten and here he is! Isn’t he sweet?’

Although she’d had a smug look on her face, Lucy’s heart had been hammering against her chest. Adam’s glower had been the first warning that she had made another terrible mistake.

‘You actually think you can look after a kitten?’

‘Why not? You didn’t think it was a problem the other day when I mentioned it. You said they practically looked after themselves.’

‘Was this before or after you killed off the flowers I gave you? Oh, and let’s not forget the plants in the garden last year. Every single living thing you’ve ever taken responsibility for, you’ve killed. Why on earth would I think you could look after that?’ he had said, glaring at the poor mite trembling in Lucy’s arms. Or had it been she who had been trembling?

‘But you felt sorry for the kittens staying with Hannah,’ Lucy had tried. ‘You wanted to save one.’

‘By bringing it here? Are you mad?’ he had hissed.

And that was all it had taken to light the touch paper to an anger that Lucy had been unable to control. Those three words. That one accusation.

A quarrel had ensued during which she had become more and more agitated. She had been in the right – Adam had definitely said she could look after one – and besides, he was the one who was meant to be repentant. He should have agreed to anything she wanted, but he had refuted her arguments with ones of his own, and unfortunately, Adam had so much more ammunition. They had thrown insults and accusations at each other from across the kitchen.

‘Do you even see the mess you make?’ he had yelled, pointing out the greasy smears on cupboard doors. ‘I dread to think what state my house is going to be in when you’ve got a cat and a baby to look after.’

‘Your house?’ she had shouted back. ‘I’m not your housekeeper, Adam! I can do what I like in my own home. I can kick off my shoes and leave them where I want! I can wear the same clothes for more than one day if I want! I can leave dirty dishes until the next day – if – I – want. And I can open a packet of biscuits without reaching for the fucking Hoover!’

Lucy couldn’t quite remember what else had been on her list, only that she had screeched it from the top of her lungs with her hands balled into fists. Determined to prove a point, she had flung open a cupboard and taken out a container full of porridge oats. She had grabbed a handful and, in a shower of oats, had turned to face her husband again, but to her horror, Adam had been backing away with his arms held out as if to fend off an attack.

‘No more,’ he had begged. ‘Please don’t hit me. Please, Lucy.’

Except it had already been too late. Although Lucy had no recollection of laying a hand on Adam, there was a series of angry welts across his neck.

She had been unable to revisit what exactly had happened the evening before when her anger had pulled a red veil over her senses, but the evidence was irrefutable as Adam tugged off his scarf to reveal the scratch marks she had made.

‘Adam … I think I lost it last night,’ she said as she waited for him to put away his things. She heard the click of the closet door closing, but he stayed where he was. ‘Actually, I know I did.’

‘How have you been feeling today?’ he asked when he was ready to face her.

‘OK, I suppose.’

‘I was worried,’ he said, although his tone and expression gave away none of his concern. ‘I thought all that hysteria might have done some damage.’

If you were that anxious, Lucy thought, why did you leave me sobbing in the kitchen to clean up the mess on my own? Why did you pretend to be asleep when I went to bed? Why haven’t I heard from you all day?

‘I have no idea where all that anger came from,’ she offered instead.

‘But we both know where it was directed,’ Adam said, rubbing his neck. ‘I accept that I shouldn’t have missed the parenting class, and I was ready for the backlash, but that was some way to get back at me, Lucy.’

‘I was totally irrational, I know that,’ she said, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. The word irrational had featured strongly in their argument.

‘Is it still here?’

When Lucy pursed her lips together, her chin wobbled. ‘I’ve been cuddling him all day. He keeps me calm, Adam. I don’t want to give him back, but I will if you tell me to.’

‘And suddenly I’m the bad guy again.’

Lucy wasn’t sure, but she thought his lips were trembling too despite his set jaw. ‘I want to make things right. I want to forget all about the argument and if that means removing all evidence, I’m prepared to do it. That’s my decision.’

‘I used the kitten to explain away the scratch marks at work,’ he said. ‘I don’t think Naomi believed me. She’d love Ranjit to think my marriage is falling apart while she bangs on about getting engaged. The cat will have to stay so we can keep up the lie you’ve made me tell.’

Lucy wanted to go to Adam and kiss away the pain but she would feel better if he made the first move. She needed to know that he would remain by her side during this madness – her madness. It was a horrible, horrible word that frightened her, and she needed Adam to pull her back from the brink.

When he shifted position, Lucy took it as an invitation. She rushed towards the arms she was sure would open up for her, but Adam flinched as if expecting her to strike. She buried her head into his shoulder and there was a heart-stopping moment when his arms hung limply by his side, but in the next moment, he was holding her.

‘I love you, Adam,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t live without you.’

‘And I love you too,’ he whispered. ‘I just want my Lucy back.’

Lifting her head, she said, ‘I’m here. I’m still here.’

He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and the look in his eyes softened. ‘It’s not all your fault. I could have reacted better. I should have realized how the kitten was simply another symptom, and the more pregnant you are,’ he said, taking a step back to glance at her maternity smock, ‘the more likely it is that your moods will be erratic. I think I know where the anger came from and so do you. You’re scared that whatever affected your dad is now affecting you and, I have to be honest, it’s getting harder to pretend there isn’t a connection.’

‘If I’d known what I would be like, I’d never have let you marry me,’ Lucy confessed. ‘I never really gave much thought to what happened to Dad, or at least, not as much as I do now.’

‘You’ve been in denial, that’s all,’ Adam told her. ‘Look at how you used to live your life, pretending you were the same as all those friends who refused to acknowledge how much you were struggling. When you bounded into my life, you acted as if you didn’t have a care in the world, but anyone who was willing to take the time to get to know you could have seen through your act. It was inevitable that the past would catch up with you one day. All it was going to take was one trigger. Who knows what it was with your dad, but pregnancy seems to be what might have set you off.’

‘But if you knew I was such a screw-up, why did you ever bother with me?’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘Because I wanted to. You’re my screw-up now, Lucy. I promised to look after you and I will. I’ve juggled my workload and I’m working from home for the rest of the week. I’ll need to lock myself away in the office at some point, but I thought now might be a good time to start on the nursery.’

Lucy followed Adam’s gaze to the large carrier bag sitting by the front door. ‘What’s that?’

‘Paint.’

There were two spare bedrooms to choose from for the nursery and Adam had offered to relocate his office to the box room, but Lucy could tell he was loath to do it. If she needed him to stay at home more, it made sense that he should be comfortable, and they could always move the baby into the larger room when she was older.

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.