To say Monica was overjoyed to see her might have been taking it a bit far. As disappointing as it was, Lucy had to exercise patience. But the clock was ticking. Now the news of Emily’s death had been broadcast the police would be on her trail. But they could search all they wanted; they would never find her. She had made sure of that.
‘Please, take a seat,’ Monica said, gesturing to the sofa as she invited her inside. A chemical smell assaulted her nostrils, and Lucy’s eyes fell on the bottle of pillar box red varnish on the glass coffee table. How slutty, she mused, then dismissed the unkind thought. It rose like a blackbird along with her annoyance, and she took a slow breath to calm herself down. She perched on the edge of the sofa. She was still waiting for her homecoming welcome, but Monica was yet to open her arms for a hug.
‘How did you find me?’ Monica said, sitting in the furthest chair from the sofa.
‘The records became available when I was eighteen,’ Lucy replied. ‘Although it took a while to find you with your married name. Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘I don’t know how to feel,’ Monica said, her face devoid of emotion.
Lucy folded her manicured fingers into the palm of her hands. Her palms itched, and a thin sweat had broken out on her upper lip. ‘Of course, you’re bound to be in shock. But it took a lot of guts for me to come here. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t.’ She sighed sadly, hoping to shame Monica into a better reaction.
But Monica just stared at the deep pile carpet, dry-washing her hands.
It was early days, Lucy told herself; her new mother needed some time to process the information. But disappointment was already setting in.
‘Can I get you a drink? Tea, coffee, a glass of wine? I don’t know about you but I could do with a stiff drink.’
‘I don’t drink,’ Lucy said, flatly.
Silence fell between them. Monica fidgeted with the cuff of her blouse, clearing her throat for words that did not come. A car drove past outside, blaring a drum and bass song. It was one of those days that was too nice to spend inside, and the window blinds trembled as a light breeze filtered in. Lucy blurted out the words balled up in her throat: ‘Why did you give me up?’
Monica’s eyebrows shot up, but she did not meet Lucy’s gaze. ‘It was such a long time ago… I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was too far gone.’ Her fingers rose to her lips as she inhaled a sudden intake of breath. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… ’
Lucy raised her hands, deflecting her apology. She had hoped that Monica stayed childless because she had been waiting for her daughter to find her. But she had been wrong. Monica was just a selfish bitch, with no time for anyone but herself. Lucy rose from the sofa, trying hard to suppress her anger.
‘This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.’
Monica flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re saying you’re my daughter, and I believe you, but I don’t know what to say.’
‘Am I not pretty enough, is that it?’ Lucy said, bitterness lacing her voice. ‘I mean, look at you. Why would you want to be seen with someone like me?’
‘No,’ Monica said, rising from her seat. ‘Of course not. Looks don’t come into it.’ She frowned, as if searching her brain for a better choice of words. ‘I’m just not cut out to be a mother. The best thing you can do is forget all about me.’
‘I think it’s best I leave,’ Lucy said.
Monica opened the living room door to show her out.
Lucy followed her into the hall, her heart sinking. This was not how she imagined it. This was wrong, all wrong. She allowed her fingers to slide over the brass owl ornament on the table. Surely Monica didn’t really mean what she said? She was probably scared that she wasn’t up to the job. But that was natural. All new mothers felt that way, and it was too early to write off their relationship just yet.
A sly smile crossed Lucy’s face as she wrapped her fingers around the legs of the ornament. Swinging back her arm, it cut through the air as she brought it down on the back of Monica’s head.
Confidence was the key when removing a body from a property, and Lucy dragged her through the adjoining garage into the back of the sports car without much effort. The yappy dog had been dumped in the boot, to be released on a housing estate a few miles up the road. Lucy didn’t kill animals. She wasn’t a monster, after all. It had been a few years since Lucy had driven an automatic but after a couple of jerky movements she got away.
It was a shame that she’d had to get blood all over Monica’s expensive cream blouse, Lucy thought, as she finished securing her into the basement chair. She stood back and surveyed her work. Perfect. You could barely see the washing line wrapped around her wrists, and it looked so much better than that ungainly rope. Monica’s head lolled to one side, her long wavy hair cloaking her face. Even unconscious, she looked pretty. Lucy leaned in and inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelt of flowers. She drew back, wishing she had been prettier, brighter, or charismatic enough to win her around first time.
Never mind, she’s here now, the voice in her head whispered. Monica would be fine once she got over the shock of having Lucy in her life. She smiled. It was time to prepare for the perfect moment. One that would seal their relationship for ever.