or what?’
Lucy reached out for Adam to take her hand but to her horror, he leant backwards. ‘Sorry,’ she gasped, but then followed his gaze and realized how stupid she had been to think, even for a moment, that he was rejecting her. She wiped her hand on her shirt to leave a trail of sticky cobwebs before waggling her fingers. ‘Look, no spiders.’
Adam held her hand as they slipped past the trinkets from her childhood, travelling through her teenage years and towards the most recent additions. There were the stacks of polythene-wrapped canvases she had accumulated at art college, not to mention the camping equipment that had survived several music festivals. A thick layer of dried mud covered the tent she had brought home from Leeds and, with hindsight, it would have been simpler to abandon it, but eighteen months ago she had been unaware that her free and single festival-going days were about to come to an end.
‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ Christine said after returning to the house.
They were huddled in the small galley kitchen that felt cosy rather than cramped, or at least it did to Lucy. Adam had his shoulders hunched, unable to relax in the space that had been exclusive to Lucy and her mum until he had stolen her away.
‘Not a complete waste,’ he said, giving Lucy a wry smile that was warm enough to chase away the chill that had crept into her bones during her ill-conceived search.
With cheekbones a little too sharp and a chin not sharp enough, Adam wasn’t classically handsome, but it had been his pale blue eyes that had captivated Lucy when she had first spied him over the smouldering embers of a barbecue two summers ago. He had looked at her as if he could read her thoughts and then, as now, whatever he saw amused him.
‘Go on, say it,’ he told her.
Lucy pouted. ‘I knew it was there.’
‘And I believed you,’ replied Adam.
‘I could have sworn I’d given it away,’ Christine muttered as she opened the oven door. A cloud of steam rose up to greet her and the smell of rosemary and roasted lamb filled the kitchen. ‘But what was so important about finding it anyway? You obviously didn’t want it.’
‘She was trying to prove a point.’
‘Ah, that’s our Lucy for you,’ Christine said, wiping the steam from her glasses as she crouched down to baste the roast potatoes. ‘I thought you would have worked that out by now, Adam. She likes to be right.’
‘Except when I’m wrong,’ Lucy said, dropping her gaze.
‘But you weren’t wrong,’ Christine said. The light from the oven underlined the confusion on her face as she turned to her daughter. ‘Is there something I’m missing?’
‘I’ve had a few … lapses lately, that’s all.’
Her mum closed the oven door and straightened up. ‘What do you mean, lapses?’
Lucy wasn’t sure how to describe them. They were silly mistakes that might pass unremarked if it were anyone else, but not Lucy. Her brain stored information like a computer and when information went in, it was locked away until it was needed, and she could retrieve it in an instant. She had known precisely where the cot was and she had been proven right. ‘They’re memory lapses, I suppose. I get confused for no reason at all,’ she offered.
Adam cleared his throat. ‘We were late this morning because she couldn’t find her car keys and her car was parked in front of mine so I was blocked in. I found the spare set, but you know what she’s like …’
‘I always leave them on the shelf in the kitchen, or sometimes in my coat pocket, but they weren’t in any of the obvious places,’ Lucy explained. She scrunched up her freckled nose when she added, ‘They were in the fridge beneath a bag of lettuce. I must have kept hold of them when I unloaded the shopping yesterday.’
A bemused smile had formed on Christine’s lips. ‘Welcome to my world,’ she said. ‘I almost put a loaf in the washing machine the other week.’
In no mood to be appeased, Lucy felt the first stirrings of annoyance, not liking that her mum should take the matter so lightly. ‘And do you find things in the wrong place when you have no recollection of moving them?’
Christine took a step nearer until she was close enough to lift Lucy’s chin. ‘No, but I live on my own.’
‘And I work from home, alone. I’m talking about when Adam’s at work.’
‘Have you mentioned it to the midwife?’ Christine asked, looking to Adam.
‘I wanted to raise it at our hospital appointment last week,’ he said, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘But I was overruled.’
Confusion clouded Lucy’s expression and she was grateful that no one was looking at her. She would like to think that she had laid down the law, but Adam was mistaken if he imagined she had been the one to decide against voicing her concerns. It was true that she had been reluctant, but it was Adam who had convinced her that her blunders would be laughed off. So far, he alone knew how unsettling the episodes had become.
‘You still should have mentioned it, Adam,’ Christine said, her smile persisting.
‘I’m glad I didn’t now,’ Lucy grumbled. ‘It was my twenty-week scan and we got to see all her little fingers and toes and I didn’t want to spoil the moment. This memory thing is separate anyway.’
‘Oh, honey, I’m sorry – it’s anything but. They even have a name for it,’ Christine said as she cupped her daughter’s face in the palm of her hand as if she were still her little girl. Her thumb brushed against Lucy’s cheek to encourage a smile that wouldn’t come. ‘It was called baby brain in my day. Though I can’t say I mislaid things, I definitely became a tad scattier. It’s your hormones, that’s all, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Just wait until you add childbirth and sleepless nights to the mix.’
Lucy’s lip trembled. ‘Baby brain? Really?’
‘Why didn’t you mention it before?’
‘I was scared it was something else,’ Lucy said, holding her mum’s gaze long enough for her to realize at last how frightened she had been. Tears brimmed in her mum’s eyes as she too caught a glimpse of the lingering shadows of the past that had been haunting her daughter.
With a sniff, Christine kissed her daughter’s forehead. ‘You’ve had such a lot of change in the last year or so, it’s no wonder your mind’s playing catch-up. You shouldn’t keep your worries to yourself.’
‘I don’t,’ said Lucy as she pulled away from her mum to look at Adam, who had been waiting patiently to be noticed. Her husband had a habit of tapping his fingers in turn against his thumb whenever he felt out of his comfort zone, and he was doing it now. It was a reminder that beneath that blunt exterior was a man who had his own moments of vulnerability.
Christine wrinkled her nose. ‘I know you have each other but, no offence to Adam, he’s a man.’
‘None taken,’ Adam said. The finger tapping continued.
With her gaze fixed on her daughter, Christine said, ‘I was telling Hannah’s mum the other
