The Guilty Mother: A dark, gripping and emotional page-turner full of family secrets by Sam Vickery

Author:Sam Vickery [Vickery, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781837903436
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2023-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-NINE

LISA

Now

The shopping threatened to burst free from the bag for life, the cheap canvas strap cutting into my shoulder, far too heavy for the long walk home. I had only intended to pick up a few things, deciding that the walk to the local supermarket would clear my head and at the very least, give me something to think about other than the relentless worries that had been driving me to distraction. We only needed milk, eggs, maybe some fresh bread for sandwiches, but when I’d begun my slow, meandering route through the aisles, I’d found myself grabbing an expensive bottle of wine. I’d stopped at the deli counter, picking up spicy olives and all manner of yummy things I knew Mike would salivate over. I’d added garlic bread, fresh pasta, prawns, double cream, tarragon, the ingredients for tiramisu, piling my basket high until I could barely lift it to unload it at the till.

I had an overwhelming urge to treat my family. To have them smiling and relaxed and happy, their bellies full of the rich food I had made for them, my love for them undeniable, the effort I had made translated onto their plates, showing them exactly what they meant to me. It was a need almost bordering on compulsive – to nurture, to take care of my family – and once the idea had come to me, even the thought of having to carry the heavy bag of groceries home wasn’t enough to deter me from my plan.

Now, though, with my neck and shoulders throbbing from swapping the weighty bag back and forth from one arm to the other, I was wishing I’d had the foresight to borrow Mike’s car. The insurance company, when Mike had phoned them to report mine missing, had found a convenient loophole in our policy and told him without apology that they were under no obligation to provide a temporary vehicle for me while they processed our claim. I was sure they were trying to pull a fast one, but knowing that they were wrong and having the energy to actually fight their decision were two very different things. I was exhausted. And what with all the drama around the bloody car, it was the last thing I wanted to think about.

Every time Mike mentioned it, my blood ran cold, a pervading sense of claustrophobia engulfing me, suffocating, terrifying. I could smell the interior of the police car, the pine air freshener that hung from the rear-view mirror, DS McCormac’s musky aftershave. I could almost hear the crackling radio and quiet click of the indicator. I didn’t want to think about where my car was now, or what would happen if it was found. The uncertainty of my future – of what they might try to pin on me next – was enough to make me sick to my stomach. And the only cure for the nausea was to eat. To fill the emptiness inside me until I’d squashed those feelings with the weight of a good meal.

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