Текст книги "The Attic Room: A psychological thriller"
Автор книги: Linda Huber
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-One
Nina’s feeling of unreality persisted throughout the afternoon. It was difficult to drive the short distance into town and park behind the library, impossible to walk into the bank as if this was any old shopping trip, her and her old friend and everything hunky dory. She felt conspicuous with the empty sports bag – not something she usually carried for an afternoon in town – but at least they wouldn’t meet anyone she knew; she didn’t have to pretend this was normal. At the bank she and Sabine were shown into a small room with ‘Manager’ on a blue sign on the door. Nina’s sports bag was taken away and returned considerably heavier.
‘What’s to stop the blackmailer accosting us and stealing it?’ said Nina, hugging the bag to her chest as they left the bank. She should try to act normally here – but how impossible was that when her gut was performing somersaults like something from the Moscow State Circus.
‘He won’t,’ said Sabine cheerfully. ‘He’s made his arrangements for his own good reasons, and he’ll stick to them.’
Her heart in her mouth, Nina cradled the bag in both arms till they were back in the safety of the hired car. Stupid, she thought. It wasn’t as if it was real money, and even if it had been, money didn’t matter. Naomi was the only important thing and it was unbearable that circumstances had split them up like this. The lump in her throat, never far away since she’d left Naomi with the Harrisons, swelled painfully.
Back at the house, Nina shut herself into the study to try Sam’s number again. This probably wasn’t the best time to phone him, bang in the middle of the afternoon, but she could try. She listened as the tone pinged out then broke off immediately as he took the call.
‘Nina? How weird, I had the phone in my hand to call you!’
‘Sam, hi. I’m not disturbing you, then?’
‘Nope. We’re having a short break before the final settlement. Nina, I’m sorry about yesterday. Is everything all right?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ It was a struggle not to break down and howl as she told him about Paul’s visit and what she now knew about her father’s treatment of her, and about the latest blackmail letter and the police in the house. Like Bethany, he was silent while she spoke.
‘That’s all,’ she said at last.
‘All! Dear God, Nina – are you coping with this – should I get Dad to come and be with you – I’ll come straight back now, I – shit, this is awful.’
Nina closed her eyes. His concern was like Beth’s – warming. ‘Sam, it’s okay. The police are being great; Sabine Jameson’s here with me all the time,’ she said, realising as she spoke how very alone she felt in spite of Sabine’s presence. This assignment was simply another job to the young detective, who was whistling cheerfully as she washed coffee mugs in the kitchen. Sabine would do her work here and at the end of her shift she would go home and take up her own life.
Sam’s voice sounded miserable too. ‘It’s not okay. I’m sure they’ll do their best to keep you safe and catch this person, but shit, Nina, I wish I was there to help.’
Nina forced herself to sound upbeat. ‘You’ll be home soon. I’m absolutely fine.’
‘You are not. And I know you don’t want to be involved with me but as your friend, Nina, I want to be involved with you. If that’s okay.’
It was a struggle to keep her voice steady. He was her friend, in spite of her telling him to get lost, basically. This horrible situation would be so much more bearable if Sam was there with her.
‘You know that’s okay. And you’re right, I’m not fine, but I’m holding it together.’
‘My business here needs another hour, tops. I’ll go and chivvy them all into this last meeting, and as soon as it’s over I’ll start back. I’ll be in Bedford about nine.’
At five o’clock the doorbell shrilled into silence in the house, and Nina, huddled in a corner of the sofa texting Beth, jumped in fright. Hell, her nerves were all over the place. And she’d forgotten all about Paul’s promise to come by that afternoon.
‘It’ll be Paul Wright, my cousin,’ she said to Sabine, who was in the armchair leafing through a magazine.
‘Don’t forget I’m your old college friend,’ she said, and misery flooded through Nina. It felt all wrong that she couldn’t tell Paul what was going on. He was much more of a victim than she was.
She introduced her cousin to Sabine, feeling more and more awkward as they all sat down and looked at each other. She was going to have to lie to Paul almost every time she opened her mouth now, and how horrible was that?
‘Is your plan still on for tonight?’ said Paul. His eyes were dark-rimmed and his face even paler than that morning. Nina tried to sound reassuring.
‘Yes. It’s scary, but if the police catch this guy it’ll get things over with. I’m glad Sabine’s here to keep me company. Paul, are you okay?’
His hands were picking restlessly at the hem of his pullover as he sat slumped in the armchair. Nina found it impossible to imagine what he might be thinking. After all, the blackmailer could well turn out to be Paul’s father.
His expression was bleak. ‘I’ll be fine. I’d like to stay for a bit though, if I may. I don’t want to be alone today. And maybe you could do with family around.’
‘Good idea,’ said Nina, exchanging glances with Sabine. The younger woman’s face was pleasantly neutral and Nina could take no comfort from it. It was kind of Paul to come; it showed he cared, and she wanted to help him too if he needed support, but… it did make things awkward.
He was visibly nervous, giving very short answers to everything that was said to him, and Nina began to wonder if involving the police had been the right thing to do. Maybe if she’d ignored the anonymous letter thing from the start it would all have died down and disappeared by itself. Paul had spent all his life avoiding what happened to him as a child, and then she arrived and within five minutes she had raked everything up and was rubbing his nose in it. What kind of a cousin did that make her? But there was no way she could start a heart to heart with him when Sabine was here. Nina searched around for something to say.
‘Do you know where the secretaire in the study came from? It’s so different to all the other furniture here.’
He gave a half-smile. ‘I think it belonged to Emily originally, but I’m not sure.’
‘I’m going to take it home to Arran,’ said Nina. Typical. Another lovely thing that hadn’t been John Moore’s. She would turn Claire’s room in the farmhouse into a study, she thought suddenly. The secretaire could go there, and it would be good to have something of Emily’s as well. A real family room.
Sabine started a conversation about supposed old friends, and Nina joined in reluctantly. It was hellish, sitting there trying to chat about things the two of them might remember, and a huge relief when the other woman suggested catching the news on TV. As soon as the weather forecast was finished Nina went through to the kitchen and made a pot of spaghetti, opening a jar of pesto to go with it.
Paul picked at his food but made no move to leave when the meal was over. Nina sat at the kitchen table massaging her temples and watching Sabine wash the spaghetti pan. Dear God, she was exhausted. And she was going to be up for hours yet; no way would she be able to sleep until she knew what happened during Sabine’s late-night trip through the park. Plus, and the thought hadn’t struck her until now – would she be all alone here when Sabine left? At least Sam would be back by that time… But the odds were that David wouldn’t allow Sam anywhere near this place, because if the blackmailer was watching, the arrival of a fit young lawyer would make things even more complicated. Maybe they’d send someone to guard the house when Sabine was gone; after all, there was no guarantee the letter-writer wouldn’t break in and torch the place before he went to the park. Bloody hell.
‘Nina, we’ll talk about holidays,’ said Sabine in a low voice, when Paul went into the downstairs toilet. ‘If he’s still here at eight suggest he goes home and comes back tomorrow.’
When they’d exhausted the subject of holidays Sabine started asking about the photos, encouraging Paul to tell them about his childhood. Nina found it hard to listen as he revealed further details about his mother’s increasing dependence on alcohol, and how she’d left Paul to organise his own meals and often wash his own clothes too. She died when Paul was thirteen.
‘So you were in care?’ said Sabine, and to Nina’s dismay Paul glowered at her.
‘I don’t talk about that time,’ he said shortly. ‘It’s best forgotten.’
Tears were bright in his eyes, and Nina ached for him. Puberty was a difficult time for any child, and Paul must have had it worse than most. She would sit him down for a long talk before she went home, see if she could change his mind about going to some kind of therapy.
She squinted at the clock on the back wall, trying to do it unobtrusively. She was unsuccessful. Paul jumped up from his chair at the photos table and flung himself down on the sofa.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said, his voice shaking. ‘I’ll be gone soon. I have to pick my girlfriend up after her French class.’
‘Paul, don’t. We’re all edgy and scared. It’s all right.’ Nina sat on the arm of the sofa beside him.
‘I know. Sorry.’
He gave her a brief smile then went to the window, where he stood jiggling from one foot to the other, staring outside. Dark clouds was gathering overhead; by the looks of things it was going to rain soon.
‘I’ll make more coffee before you go,’ said Sabine, retreating to the kitchen. Nina heaved a sigh. It was easier when Sabine wasn’t in the room; all the pretending was more than draining. She joined Paul at the window and patted his shoulder, feeling almost maternal, then remembered she had promised to call Naomi. Shit. Right this minute she simply didn’t trust herself to talk to her daughter as if everything was normal. Maybe a text message would be better. She pulled out her phone and flopped down on the sofa to text in comfort.
She was in the middle of her message when the phone rang in the study, and her heart leapt into her mouth.
‘Oh God, Paul – suppose that’s the blackmailer?’
Sabine was in the doorway. ‘I’ll get it. If it’s him he might stay on the line longer if he thinks I’m going to fetch you.’
She left her coffee tray on the table and strode through to the study. Paul wandered out to the hallway, and Nina finished adding smilies to her text and sent the message, hoping Naomi wouldn’t call right back. Not that this was likely. Naomi had only had her own phone since her father’s departure to South Africa, and sending text messages was still a novelty. Sure enough, just moments later the answering text came in.
‘luv u 2. cu 2morrow. xoxo’
Nina grinned. Nothing to worry about there.
She was standing up to see what was happening with the phone when a door slammed shut in the passage and Paul careered into the living room, his face deathly pale and a sheen of sweat on his brow. Nina jumped back.
‘Paul! What’s happ– ?’
He grabbed her arm. ‘Quick! We have to go, now, bring the bag! That was the police on the phone – there’s a bomb hidden here!’
Nina’s legs began to shake. ‘Shit – no – what – ’
‘Come on, Nina!’
He was pulling her towards the door, and Nina grabbed the sports bag and her handbag and ran with him out to his car.
‘Sabine!’ she yelled over her shoulder.
‘She’s still on the phone. It was her police-boss who called. I knew she wasn’t really your friend, by the way. I wish you’d trusted me with the truth.’
Nina’s stomach lurched as she saw the hurt expression on his face. He propelled her into his car and she flung both bags on the back seat.
‘Paul, I’m sorry. They said not to tell anyone, not even family. Shouldn’t we wait for Sabine?’
He shook his head, pulling away from the kerb and gunning the car towards the main road. ‘She has to join her boss.’
Nina scrabbled for the seat belt. Would this affect the plan for tonight? And what would the police do about the bomb? ‘Where are we going?’
Paul’s voice was shaking. ‘He said to get well away for a while. They’ll be in touch. We’ll go to mine.’
They stopped at the traffic lights and Nina sat consciously relaxing her clenched fists. Thank God they’d got away safely. Paul turned into the High Street, and Nina looked out at people wandering along the pavement, on the way to the pub, maybe, or the cinema. Lucky ordinary people. She couldn’t hear anything, but the police must be blue-lighting to the house right this minute. Was there a bomb disposal unit on standby in a small place like Bedford? And actually, going to Paul’s might not be the best idea.
‘Paul, let’s go to Cassie Harrison’s,’ she suggested. It would be so great to be with Naomi again at last.
Paul pushed the car into gear as the lights changed and swung round the corner away from the High Street.
‘You don’t want to lead anyone who might be following us straight to Naomi, do you?’
His voice was grim, and Nina winced. He was right, they didn’t know what kind of people they were dealing with here. David Mallony thought only one person was involved – possibly George Wright – but of course there was no certainty about that.
Nina shivered. George Wright and bombs didn’t seem to go together, in fact it was difficult to understand why anyone would want to bomb John Moore’s house. Or – was she the target, not the house? Her and the money? Bloody hell, how improbable that sounded… and the blackmailer wouldn’t risk blowing up the money… Of course he might have counted on her leaving and taking it with her – and that was exactly what she’d done. Shit, maybe he was trailing the car. She turned in her seat to see out the back window, but everything looked quite normal.
A road sign indicating Cambridge loomed up and Nina gaped at it. A sense of direction wasn’t her strong point, but she did know that Cambridge was in the opposite direction to Newport Pagnell.
‘I thought we were going to your place?’
‘We are. This is a short cut to the best road there,’ said Paul, his eyes fixed on the traffic, and Nina gave up. He must be as stressed by the developments as she was. She turned back to the window. They were still in Bedford, driving past old houses now, each much closer to its neighbour than was usual nowadays.
Neighbours… The police must have warned everyone in the street, but she hadn’t seen any neighbours when she and Paul sped away from the house. But if people were told ‘there’s a bomb in the house next door’, they wouldn’t spend too much time gathering stuff together before leaving the building, would they? And – there were still no sirens to be heard, no police cars rushing to the scene, no fire engines… And had the police warned everyone by phone? Was that standard procedure?
She glanced at Paul. His face was pale, but there was a determined set to his chin that hadn’t been there before. He caught her eye and his jaw tightened. Nina felt her gut spasm. Something wasn’t right. Shit. What was Paul doing? She turned again to see out the back window – still no sign of police activity. Her stomach cramped as a new, horrifying thought entered her head.
David Mallony wouldn’t have called on the house phone. The police had radios to contact each other, and even if these hadn’t been working for some reason, Sabine had a mobile. Paul had lied about that phone call. Sweat broke out on Nina’s forehead – what the hell was going on here?
The car slowed down to swing round a corner, then headed east of town. They weren’t going to Newport Pagnell, so much was clear.
‘Paul, what’s going on?’ she managed, her voice shaking.
This man was her relation, she had trusted him, more than that; she’d been glad to find him in the horrible mess of her father’s paedophilia and her mother’s lie. She’d thought of Paul as a victim, like she was. Now she didn’t know what to think.
He blinked across at her, and she saw both pity and determination on his face.
‘I’m sorry, Nina. This wasn’t what I wanted, but you left me no choice.’
‘What do you mean? Paul, talk to me!’
He didn’t answer. Nina balled her hands. This was her cousin and she’d trusted him… and now he was taking her somewhere and she didn’t want to go.
‘I want to get out, Paul. Stop the car, please.’
He gave her a little smile. ‘Nina, Nina, it’s all right. Don’t worry. We’ll get things sorted.’
Nina felt panic rising within her. She grabbed Paul’s arm. ‘Stop! Let me out!’
He shoved her away and the car swerved across the road, narrowly missing a lamp post as it mounted the central island and then thumped back down on the road. A van going in the opposite direction blasted its horn. Nina shrank back in her seat, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. Hell, she couldn’t make him stop the car, and starting a physical fight over the handbrake would be suicide.
They were driving round a run-down district now, and terraced houses lined identical streets. Few people were about. Nina swallowed. She was tensing herself to jump out and run for it at the next corner when Paul pulled up behind a solitary car parked at the roadside, and grabbed her forearm.
Nina could see determination and fear in the brown eyes fixed on her own . ‘We’re going to get out of this car and into the one in front. We’ll do it quickly and very calmly, Nina. I’ve got a gun.’
Nina gaped at him, her gut cramping. Sam had been right – she didn’t know Paul. The sweet, shy man she’d been so taken with was… it was odd, he wasn’t quite gone because she could still see him in there, but he was somehow stuck behind another Paul, and this one was a stranger.
Fear made her voice shake. ‘Paul – what are you doing? Let me get back to Naomi, please!’
He scrabbled in the glove compartment with his free hand and she recoiled in fright, dizzy with relief when he produced another car key. Dear God, had she really expected him to bring out a gun? Did he have one?
‘Do as you’re told, Nina. We’ll talk later, I promise.’
He grabbed the bag of fake money from the back seat and strode round to her side of the vehicle, gripping her arm again as soon as the door was open. Nina’s legs were shaking so hard she could barely remain upright as he hurried her towards the other car. She moaned inwardly. Her handbag – with her mobile – was on the back seat of the first car. Without that she was ten times more helpless. Shit, she was being abducted and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Half a minute later they were driving away from the terraced houses.
‘Where are we going?’ Nina knew it was important to keep talking to Paul. She had read that you shouldn’t show fear when you were being bullied, and this was much more than bullying. What was he going to do to her, this man she’d thought she could trust? Bile rose in her throat.
‘Paul – ’ She started to speak, but he cut her off.
‘Keep the shit quiet, can’t you,’ he said, his voice tight. The engine screamed as he accelerated up the road.
Horrified beyond words, Nina closed her eyes. A picture came into her mind. Arran. Home. The Firth of Clyde sparkling in the sunlight, the Holy Isle dark against the blueness of the sky. Tears burned behind Nina’s eyelids. What wouldn’t she give to be back there today, as penniless as she’d been at the start of the summer. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Claire’s story – The Isle of Arran
Claire jogged along the uneven track, then slowed to a walk as she came to the pathway that sloped steeply across the field back up to the farmhouse. Morag, Beth’s mother, had laughed when she’d taken up jogging at her age after avoiding gyms like the plague all her life. Claire laughed back but kept right on jogging. She had to make sure she was as fit as possible. Fit people lived longer.
She knew it was irrational, this fear that she too would die and leave Nina helpless at the hands of the authorities. But having seen both parents die at a relatively young age, Claire’s confidence that life automatically went on until you were eighty-something was more than shaken. In spite of her best efforts to be positive, the carefree days of trust in the future had been gone for a very long time.
But – she had almost made it; Nina was eighteen next week. Her daughter was a student in far-away Glasgow now, doing secretarial studies. She was living in a hostel connected to the college, sharing a unit with three other girls, and she was having a ball. It was a heady time, first freedom… but Nina had a sensible head on her shoulders, and it was right she should enjoy herself while she was young.
Claire smiled, thinking about her girl, then frowned. As of next week Nina was an adult and wouldn’t have to go and live with Robert if Claire ‘popped her clogs’, as Lily had called it, but there was no guarantee that Robert would help Nina financially when – if – he did get in touch. Claire’s death would be followed by hurt and disappointed for Nina when she discovered that her father was alive and Claire had lied about it. Would Nina hate her for the lie? Oh God, she loved her girl so much, and no matter what she did, one day Nina would resent it. Claire couldn’t even revoke the clause about him being contacted in the event of her death because Rob had signed it too. It was a lose-lose situation and there was no way on earth that she could put it right. The only good ending would be if Robert died first – but if he did, they might never hear of it.
Claire panted into the farmhouse kitchen, where Jan, the live-in helper, was making lentil soup. As well as breakfasts, they now gave guests the option of a simple meal at night too. Business was booming.
Claire poured a glass of orange juice and took it upstairs with her. Maybe the best thing would be to write Nina a letter, one of the ‘to be opened after my death’ kind. She could explain everything and apologise for leaving her daughter in ignorance. That way at least Nina would know the truth, because Robert couldn’t be trusted to be honest. Yes, a letter was a very good idea. And it wouldn’t hurt to check if Robert was still at the same address – in fact she would call him right now while she was feeling brave. Claire searched through her handbag for her address book; she no longer knew the number by heart and the code had changed since she’d lived there anyway.
Slowly, she punched out the number and listened as the ring tone pringed in her ear. Seven, eight, nine times. Twenty times. There was nobody there. Tired tears of frustration filled her eyes and she slammed down the receiver, then on the spur of the moment she ripped the page with Robert’s number from her address book and tore it into tiny pieces. He was gone from her life. Forget him, Claire.
Easier said than done.
