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

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!’

      Walking up the path, Lucy wondered where she had left them this time. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were dripping wet because she had tried to flush them down the toilet. ‘Where were they?’

      ‘At the back of the sofa. They must have fallen out of your pocket.’

      ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Lucy said, taking the keys and keeping tight hold of them. She kissed her mum on the cheek. ‘I’d better be off.’

      ‘Are you sure about the kitten?’ Christine tried one last time.

      No, Lucy thought. She was no longer certain about anything, but she hoped her stubborn streak meant she would never stop trying. She gave her mum one final hug and tried not to notice the spot where her dad might have stood, asking Lucy if she had the right change for the tunnel toll, or recognizing her anxiety and suggesting an alternative route through Widnes and across the bridge.

      It was only when Lucy slipped behind the wheel of her car and spotted the flash of coins her mum had left in the cup holder that she was reminded it was a mistake to underestimate a mother.

       9

      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