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‘Nothing,’ Lucy said through gritted teeth. ‘He can’t still be caught up in traffic.’
‘It must have been pretty serious to close off part of the motorway. We should be grateful Adam wasn’t the one involved in the accident.’
‘I know,’ Lucy said, ‘but I’d told the midwife how supportive he’s been and I felt really stupid turning up without him. He knew how important it was to me. He should have left earlier.’
‘And Adam will be thinking the exact same thing. Now come inside and relax before you race home to give him an earful.’
Lucy was forced to agree, and not simply because she didn’t think she would last the next forty minutes with the baby pressing on her bladder. The delay would give her time to build up the courage to drive back through the tunnel, a journey she would never have chanced if she hadn’t needed to pick up her mum as a stand-in. She expected Adam to be mortified when he found out.
There had been a time when Lucy joked with Adam that she was the better driver, but the one-and-a-half-mile drive beneath the Mersey had become a passage of fear. It stemmed from one particular incident when she had been driving through the tunnel with Adam, not long after she moved in with him and before she could use her baby brain as an excuse. Adam had been forced to yank the steering wheel to keep the car from drifting across the narrow lanes before Lucy even knew what was happening. Tonight, it was her anger alone that had kept her focused on driving between the white lines.
‘He’ll be as disappointed as you,’ Christine said after handing Lucy a cup of chamomile tea and taking a seat next to her on the sofa.
Lucy watched the rising steam curl and twist as she sighed. ‘He knows how much I want him to feel more involved. So far, all he’s been able to do is listen to my complaints about how sick I feel, or how tired I am,’ she said, stopping short of adding the more serious complaints about her ineptitude.
Since the disaster with the flowers a month ago, Lucy’s life had been peppered with similar mishaps, if not on such a grand scale. She wasn’t sure how she had managed to finish her painting of Ralph without calamity, but the end result had been surprisingly good. Lucy had been used to juggling three or four paintings in a month to earn a steady income, but it had been worth the time spent focused on just the one. When she handed over her latest piece to her overjoyed client, she had briefly regretted the call she had made to Hannah to put off her next commission. Her one consolation was that she was now painting for pleasure.
Freed from that sense of trepidation whenever she accepted a new commission, Lucy had made her latest work deliberately abstract. Capturing the ideas she had felt tugging at her imagination the day she had met Hannah, Lucy had produced three canvases that were experimental, to say the least. She had been so pleased with the end result that she had posted photos of them on her website a couple of days ago and although she was apprehensive about how well they would be received, her change in direction had taken the pressure off, as Adam had predicted. The baby was their main priority now.
‘I’ve been trying to get Adam to feel the baby’s kicks,’ she continued. ‘And he said he did the other day but I think he was only saying it to appease me. I want him to get excited about the baby instead of wondering why the hell we ever thought I was ready to be a mother.’
‘But you are ready! And do you seriously think he isn’t excited?’ said Christine with disbelief heavy in her voice. ‘He wants this baby as much as you do, Lucy. When you talk about her and your eyes light up, so do his. Trust me, I’ve been watching.’
‘But when I worry, so does he,’ Lucy said, lifting her cup to her lips and willing the chamomile to work its magic.
She knew Adam hadn’t deliberately missed the class and he had been full of remorse when he phoned to explain how he was sandwiched between two stationary cars on the M60, but she had refused to make him feel better. The last text he had sent had been a follow-up apology to the one he had tried to make during their call when Lucy had been yelling too much to hear it. She also knew that, however bad Adam felt, at some point she would feel worse and there was a good chance she would be the one apologizing by the end of the night. Even so, she couldn’t let go of her anger.
‘At the very least he owes you an apology. I didn’t mean to wreck your night out.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m just sorry you had to drive over to Liverpool to pick me up. If I’d known I’d be needed, I wouldn’t have had a drink. You don’t think anyone noticed I was a bit squiffy, do you?’
‘You were there for me, that’s the main thing.’
‘Perhaps this should serve as a warning. I should be ready for any eventuality.’
‘I’ve still got three more months to go,’ countered Lucy. ‘And you should be able to go out and celebrate whatever spurious excuse for a celebration you happen to have. What was it this time?’
‘Nothing more than surviving another day at the tax office with double the workload and half the staff.’
‘You should retire if it’s getting too stressful,’ said Lucy, almost believing that the suggestion was purely for her mum’s benefit.
‘I couldn’t afford to, not yet,’ replied Christine. She looked into the depths of her cup and refused to meet Lucy’s gaze when she added, ‘And I hate to say this, but I might not be able to reduce my hours either. I haven’t put in a request yet because I’m not sure it would get approved.’
Lucy took a gulp of scalding tea that burnt her tongue. ‘But you’d be saving them money, surely?’
‘Our department is already cut back to the bone and the savings wouldn’t be enough to offset the disruption. My best chance would be to wait for a fresh round of budget cuts, or yet another reorganization.’ Christine took hold of her daughter’s hand when she added, ‘I want to help you more than anything but I think we both have to be prepared if it doesn’t happen as quickly as we’d like.’
Lucy kept her head down so her mum wouldn’t see the tears brimming.
‘I’m sorry, this is really bad timing,’ Christine said. ‘A more sober me would have picked a better day to bring it up.’
‘It’s not like I was expecting you to be on call twenty-four seven, Mum, and it’s fine. It means Adam will have to work from home a bit more than we were planning, that’s all. His boss doesn’t exactly chain him to the desk. As long as the work’s done, I’m sure no one would mind.’
‘And Adam will look after you, won’t he?’
‘Of course,’ Lucy said, her instinct to defend him overriding her present annoyance. ‘I know he has his moments, like tonight, and he can be …’
‘Awkward?’
Lucy found herself smiling. ‘Something like that,’ she said. ‘But he’s so loving, and incredibly patient.’
‘And I’m sure he’ll make a really good dad.’
Hoping to take advantage of her mum’s loose tongue, Lucy asked, ‘What about my dad? Was he a good father? Up until he died, I would have said he was the best, but what did I know? What was he really like, Mum?’
When the sofa creaked as Christine shifted position, Lucy gave her mum’s hand a tight squeeze. She wasn’t going to make it easy for her to evade the questions she had been dodging for two decades.
‘He loved you more than anyone,’ Christine said. There was a catch in her throat when she added, ‘He idolized you.’
‘If that’s true, then why did he do what he did?’
‘It’s—’
With her heart racing, Lucy shook her head. ‘Don’t say complicated.’
Lucy had never been given much information about the events surrounding her father’s death and as a result, she had spent most of her life making up her own theories. Her greatest fear of late was that whatever had been wrong with her dad had been passed on to his daughter, lying in wait until she was at her most vulnerable.
‘But it was complicated, love,’ Christine said.
‘Complicated how? What was so bad that he felt he couldn’t bear to spend another day with the daughter he idolized?’
‘He wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘I know that,’ Lucy said, her words strangled by twenty years of pain. ‘No one in their right mind jumps off a bridge for no apparent reason. Why did he do it, Mum? Were there any warning signs? Why wasn’t he thinking straight? Was he ill?’
Christine had never spoken of the possibility that Lucy’s dad had suffered from a mental illness, but Lucy was beginning to understand how something like that could creep up on a person. He could have been hiding it from everyone, even himself.
Closing her eyes briefly, Christine bowed her head and refused to meet her daughter’s gaze. ‘It was because of me,’ she said at last. ‘Your dad and I had a strong relationship when we first married and we told each other everything. But as time went on, we got in the habit of saying nothing rather than worrying or hurting each other. Eventually, we fell out of practice of talking at all except through you. You were the glue that kept us together.’
A shudder ran down Lucy’s spine. If she had been the glue that had kept her family together, why wasn’t she sitting there with both her parents? What had been wrong with her dad? What was wrong with her? Lucy could feel herself shutting down in panic – did she really want to know how bad things could get?
‘My biggest regret is that the last time we talked, we argued and I never got the chance to put things right,’ Christine confessed in a whisper.
Her quivering voice gave Lucy the excuse she needed to retreat from the past. ‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it’s been playing so much on my mind lately.’
‘You’re about to become a parent yourself and it’s natural to want to look back, but you need to concentrate on what lies ahead.’
‘I am,’ Lucy said, her half-empty cup trembling in her hand as she set it down. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’d better make a move.’
Lucy worked her way to the edge of the sofa and arched her back as she stood. She was about to put her phone in her handbag when it beeped.
‘Another apology?’ asked Christine.
Lucy grimaced as she read the message. ‘Actually, it’s from Hannah. She wants to know if I still want the kitten. They’re ready to leave their mum.’ Her friend was practically begging her to take one.
‘You’re not seriously considering it, are you?’
An image of wilting roses flashed through Lucy’s mind but she pushed it away. Adam had said she’d be fine looking after a cat and she had read somewhere that animals had a positive effect on mental health. A kitten would brighten her day and, more importantly, build her confidence in time for the birth of her daughter. Those poor kittens needed homes and even Adam had felt sorry for them.
‘It would be nice to have some company through the week, and Adam quite likes the idea,’ she said. She was stretching the truth a little, but he had talked about the addition of a cat to their household as if it were a fait accompli.
‘But you’re going to have your hands full as it is when the baby arrives.’
Lucy turned her phone to show her mum the photo Hannah had sent of a fluffy ginger kitten with a handwritten sign in front of it that read, ‘I love Lucy.’
Christine pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and smiled at the image. ‘Aww, he is cute.’
‘You could get one too. I don’t think she has homes for all of them yet.’
‘At least one of us has to keep hold of our senses,’ Christine warned.
If the comment was meant to dissuade her daughter from making a rash decision, it had the opposite effect.
‘He’s been de-flead and wormed but I’ll get him health checked anyway and neutered when he’s old enough. By the time the baby comes, he’ll be all settled in. I might even pick him up on my way home,’ Lucy said, liking the idea of snuggling up with a purring kitten that very night.
‘Shouldn’t you run it past Adam first?’
‘After tonight, I really don’t think 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 (#ulink_554803c7-c727-5b6f-8099-acdcb4d8b1d3)
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.
