Текст книги "The Attic Room: A psychological thriller"

Автор книги: Linda Huber

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Claire’s story – Edinburgh

‘Waah, Gran – did you really walk up these steps all the time when you were little?’

Claire laughed, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she and Naomi arrived at the top of Waverley Steps, coming up from the train station. The escalators were off, and a tired stream of early Christmas shoppers were pounding their way up and down the stairs, helped or hindered by the wind that was a permanent feature there.

‘I certainly did. You get used to it, you know. Let’s go and have some orange punch before we visit Santa.’ Claire breathed in, smelling the roast-chestnuts-mulled-wine-too-much-traffic smell that was so peculiarly Edinburgh at Christmas. She and Naomi were spending the weekend here, a belated treat for the little girl’s sixth birthday.

They wandered along bustling Princes Street, Claire’s hand gripping Naomi’s. She could hear children singing carols further along the street. Good King Wenceslas was followed by Jingle Bells. Sweet, high-pitched, slightly out-of-tune little voices, accompanied by a whiff of mince pies from the stand by the roadside – how lovely it was to be back. The ghost of Christmases past. And how odd to think that Nina was younger than Naomi was now when the two of them returned home to Mum and Dad in Edinburgh.

Claire pulled out her purse when they reached the stand, and bought a paper cup of mulled wine for herself and one of orange punch for Naomi. This was perfect, a visit to her home town with her granddaughter – how blessed she was. The tension that had ruled her life for so many years was all but gone – she had made it. Nina was grown up and the two of them and Beth were successfully running the B&B; whether or not Robert was alive and well she had no idea, and while she couldn’t quite say she didn’t care, it wasn’t such a huge obstacle to her peace of mind. Being a Grandma had helped her get things into proportion. She had a wonderful family, a beautiful home… she even went on the odd date now. Life was good. Who cared what Robert may or may not do? In any case she had every intention of living to be a hundred and fifty, so Robert would never have the chance to contact Nina. Miserable git that he was.

Most importantly, she had come to realise that the very fact that in all these years Robert had never taken the trouble to contact his daughter would prevent Nina forging any real relationship with her father. Robert had rejected Nina. And maybe someday the opportunity would arise for her to sit down with her girl and have a frank talk. Explain things. And if it didn’t – no matter.

‘Can we visit Santa now?’ Naomi was jumping up and down, blonde hair escaping from the Swedish woolly hat one of their foreign visitors had sent her. Happiness surged through Claire. It was almost Christmas and Santa was real; the magic was still intact.

Count your blessings, Claire, she thought. You’re the luckier grandparent. You have a daughter who loves you and a granddaughter who thinks you’re wonderful. Nothing’s worth more than that.

‘‘Course we can,’ she said.

Chapter Thirty

As soon as he walked into the room she saw it, and it was all she could do not to scream.

‘Don’t touch,’ said David Mallony. He placed the evidence bag on the interview room table.

Nina stared through clear plastic. Naomi’s blue and white striped sweatshirt lay there, unfolded, looking for all the world as if the girl had pulled it off and flung it down on the table.

‘Where did you find it?’ Did this calm voice really belong to her?

‘It was on a sofa in number ten, near to where you remembered leaving Wright’s car,’ said David steadily. ‘This proves Naomi was in that house at some point. There’s no sign of either of them now, though, so it may simply have been a stopping-off place. According to the neighbours, the people who rent it are on holiday. And we’ve found the car registered to Paul Wright, so he must be using the other one, the one you transferred to beside this house. It possibly belongs to the people who live in that house so we’re investigating that too.’

Nina sat still, her eyes devouring the sweatshirt. All she wanted to do was rip the bag open and bury her face in soft cotton, blue and white to match the blue sweat pants Naomi wore to play badminton back on Arran. She’d folded it and put it into Naomi’s bag on – yes, on Monday. She hadn’t seen her daughter for four days.

‘It feels as if we’re running along three steps behind him all the time,’ she said, the pain back in her chest. Oh God – perhaps her heart was broken. ‘This doesn’t bring us any further forward at all.’

‘It still might. We know Wright has access to that house and we’ll keep it under observation in case he comes back,’ said David, lifting the bag again. ‘Nina – ’

‘I know,’ she said dully. ‘Go home and rest.’ And how impossible was that?

Back in Sam’s car, Nina called The Elms, only to be told that Emily was asleep and the warden didn’t want her disturbed. Nina sagged in her seat. They had run out of things to do.

‘Let’s go home, like he said,’ said Sam. ‘Have something to eat, and you can phone Bethany and Alan. And you know, maybe they’ll find something quite quickly now they have his car and that flat to investigate too.’

Back home, he made them BLTs, and insisted Nina finished hers and drank a full glass of orange juice. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him. She felt dead inside; the pain in her chest was gone and the agony she’d felt on looking at Naomi’s photos that morning seemed very far away. Would there never be any positive news? And talking of news, she should watch the appeal on television. It would be on after the bulletin at the top of the hour. Apprehensively, she stared as TV adverts for this and that danced across the screen. Perfect families, those soap powder people. All clean and smiling and Mum and Dad and the kids. Shit. They said you couldn’t miss what you’d never had, but you could, you could. How very much she missed being part of a family like that.

The sight of Naomi’s face filling the screen jolted Nina more than she could ever have imagined. First the smiling photo was shown, while a male voice read the text. Towards the end the jigsaw photo was substituted in, and Nina sobbed aloud. How sweet and serious Naomi was with her jigsaw, and right this minute no one could tell them if she was alive or not. No one except Paul. Impossible to imagine what she would do if she lost her child. The thought, the dreadful hope that Naomi might soon be found was all that was keeping her upright today.

Sam hugged her as the appeal gave way to the weather forecast. ‘Come on,’ he said briskly. ‘Millions of people are on the look-out for Naomi now.’

Nina swallowed. ‘I want to go back to the police station. If anything comes in I want to be there.’

‘Well – let’s call by, anyway. You can’t sit there all day. And don’t forget Emily – we should check on her too and that might be more useful than hanging around at the police station.’

Nina heard his mobile ring while she was in the bathroom, and came out to hear him say goodbye to David.

‘The police have your handbag, it was still in Paul’s car,’ he said, thrusting his phone into his pocket. ‘Nina, David says there are reporters camped out in front of the police station, so we shouldn’t go there. Thank God they don’t know you’re here.’

‘Hell,’ said Nina. ‘I suppose should be glad they’re publicising it but being hassled by the press is the last thing I need. I’ll phone The Elms again.’

She called the warden, and was told that Emily was up again sorting photos and they were welcome to join her. Nina smiled sadly. What a treasure Emily was, and what a great pity it was that they hadn’t known each other all this time. A desolate by-product of Claire’s lie.

Emily’s cheeks were pink and there were two rows of snaps on the coffee table in front of her. To Nina’s surprise most of them were from the ‘no-people’ selection; only a few had recognisable figures in them, and none were anyone she knew. Unless Paul was one of those indistinct children…

‘You’ve found something,’ she said, sitting beside Emily on the sofa without taking her jacket off.

‘I rather think I have,’ said Emily, gripping her magnifying glass and staring at one of the photos. ‘I haven’t thought about it for years. Your father and George Wright used to go fishing. It was always a ‘man-thing’, the women-folk stayed at home but sometimes the men took Paul. They went to an old farmhouse belonging to a friend of George’s – there was a stream with bass nearby. There are quite a few photos of the house, and some more with different youngsters and fishermen outside – look. You can see that’s the same building in the background here… and here. George was a keen photographer and the scenery was lovely, but there are… a lot of photos of the place. I’m not sure what to think.’

Nina bent over the coffee table. A couple of images were from the black and white selection, but the rest were colour. Five showed rural scenes, both with and without an old stone farmhouse in the background, and another handful showed various figures sitting around the garden in front of the house. Young Paul was there, and another boy. Had George taken these? Maybe the farmhouse was – what a truly horrible thought – a place where her father and Paul’s had taken children to be abused. Nina began to feel sick.

‘Emily, where is this farmhouse?’ she said, taking her great-aunt’s hand. And how difficult it was not to scream out loud, for this was certainly another place David Mallony would need to check out.

Emily rubbed her eyes, a distraught expression on her face. ‘That’s the stupid thing, I’m not very sure. I was only there once; we had a family picnic one Sunday. It was a long time ago, you were barely toddling around. It’s not far from Bedford, I know, less than half an hour in the car.’

‘I’ll call David. I’m sure they’ll have ways of identifying the landscape,’ said Sam, pulling out his mobile.

Nina listened to his side of the conversation, staring at the photos spread out on the table. How innocent it all looked, English countryside and people from decades ago. But the innocence might have been flawed.

Sam finished his call and gathered the photos together. ‘I’ve to scan them through from the office here,’ he said, leaving Nina and Emily looking at each other.

‘Scan?’ said Emily, and Nina thought how the world had changed since Emily was her age.

‘The computer system here can make copies and send them to the police computer,’ she explained.

Sam returned, having forwarded the images, and Nina hugged her great-aunt.

‘I’ll phone this evening and let you know the latest,’ she said. ‘Emily, thank you so much. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.’

For where else would she go if Naomi was still missing – and if Naomi was found, then Emily would be their first port of call, always provided that Nina didn’t have to keep vigil at her daughter’s hospital bedside.

It was two hours later when the phone call came. Nina spent the time on Sam’s sofa staring into the glass of juice he brought her, knowing how fragile her composure was. The thought of losing control was terrifying, and Naomi might need her soon. Please God Naomi would need her, please God Naomi was alive.

Sam grabbed his phone and held it between them, and Nina could see how his hands were shaking too.

‘We’ve found the farmhouse. It’s near Millburn, to the north of Bedford,’ said David Mallony.

Nina’s heart began to race, thudding behind her ribs. She pressed both hands against her chest.

David continued. ‘It’s called Cummings Farm. The land was sold off years ago, and an elderly couple called Wilson have lived in the house for years. It’s fairly outlying, a long way to the nearest neighbours. Anyway, the people at the bottom of the lane noticed a pale green car going up and down to the farm yesterday, but it’s not there now. The Wilsons aren’t answering their phone, so we’re going in to check.’

‘I want to come too,’ said Nina immediately. This was important, the best lead they’d had, was she wrong to feel convinced this was where Naomi was? Or had been…

‘Nina, there are literally thousands of pale green cars in the area. At the moment this is no more weighty than any of the other leads from Wright’s computer,’ said David. ‘You can’t rush around checking everything yourself, you’d be exhausted in no time.’

‘I want to come,’ said Nina. ‘Please.’ She heard David Mallony sigh.

‘Okay. We’ll pick you up in five minutes. But you must do exactly as you’re told.’

She could hear he was already in the car.

‘I will. Can Sam come too?’

‘The more the merrier,’ said David Mallony dryly, and Nina clicked off her mobile.

The car, an unmarked police vehicle, picked them up and Nina squeezed her hands between her knees as they sped north along the A6. David was right, she’d make herself ill if she went on like this. But surely this must be it – a remote farmhouse known to Paul, an elderly couple not answering their phone – and the pale green car noticed by people in the same lane. Maybe she was driving towards Naomi at last, and there was still no way of knowing what her child had suffered all this time. Nausea, never far away now, welled up again and she leaned back, taking shallow breaths through her mouth.

Millburn was a village, larger than Biddenham, and a mile off the A6. The driver stopped in front of a red sandstone church on the High Street, and Nina saw that two more police cars and a paramedic on a motorbike were waiting. So maybe the police were taking this more seriously than the other leads from Paul’s computer; they didn’t take paramedics to every single check, did they? The churning in her gut increased. David Mallony went to consult his colleagues, telling Nina and Sam to stay put.

Nina sat watching the policemen gesticulate as they conferred. Anger was beginning to replace the nausea. ‘Shit, Sam, how dare Paul do this?’

‘I know. Just – hope as hard as you can,’ he said.

Nina rubbed her face. It wasn’t hope she was feeling now, it was dread, but he was right. She should hope. She tried to concentrate on being positive.

David Mallony returned and bent to the back seat window.

‘The farmhouse is further along the lane beyond the church. There’s a belt of trees between it and the village, so we can’t see anything from here. We don’t want to warn Wright if he’s there, so Kev and Phil are going to scout through the trees and see what’s going on. Then if necessary the rest of us can drive on up to the house.’

He got back into the car and sat with them, and Nina appreciated the gesture although she knew that nothing today could be of any comfort. The other officers stood around outside.

After about ten minutes David Mallony’s radio crackled, and he spoke with presumably either Kev or Phil, but the voice was so distorted that Nina couldn’t understand more than the odd word. David’s contributions were merely short affirmatives. He lowered the radio and turned to Nina and Sam.

‘They’ve been round the outside of the building and there’s no sign of life and no car. The others are going up there now. We’ll move up the lane a little too,’ he said, edging the car along behind the other vehicles, stopping after a few hundred metres.

From their new standing place it still wasn’t possible to see the farmhouse, and Nina shivered. This waiting was horrendous. As bad as the day they’d done the last brain function test on Claire, with Nina in the waiting room, knowing what was coming. Today, she didn’t know what the outcome would be, and the dread was mixed with heart-piercing hope. Another ten minutes passed before the next report, and again David Mallony had to translate.

‘No answer at the door and no one in the outhouses. We’re going right up there now but you stay in the car, okay, Nina?’

In a few moments the farmhouse came into view, an old, somewhat ramshackle building with homey tubs of petunias by the front door and cheerful blue and white checked curtains at the downstairs windows. Nina’s brittle hopes plummeted. This place looked a lot more like an elderly couple’s home than a paedophiles’ retreat. The car drove round the house and pulled up by the back door, and Nina saw a policeman jiggle with a window that had been left tilted. In seconds it was wide open and the officer was climbing in.

‘That’s why you should never go out without closing your windows,’ said David, and Nina nodded, her eyes never leaving the window. She jumped in fright when the back door of the house opened and the police officer jogged towards the car, his gloved hand clutching something pink in a plastic evidence bag.

‘It was on the kitchen floor,’ he said, holding up the bag to show a pink and white rubber band bracelet. ‘Is it – ’

Nina’s head was buzzing and she couldn’t see properly. Waves of dizziness were threatening to overcome her. She opened her mouth, but her voice had gone.

‘It’s Naomi’s,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve seen her with it. Nina, put your head down.’

He pushed her head between her knees and the giddiness receded. She scrabbled for the door handle.

‘Nina, stay in the car!’ said David, getting out himself. ‘Wright has a gun, remember? When – if – we want you to come, I’ll get you.’

He disappeared into the farmhouse. Now all the policemen were inside except one who was standing at the corner of the building, and Nina saw with a shock that he was armed. There was the sound of an engine, and the paramedic appeared up the lane and parked on the far side of the car. Nina moaned.

‘Dear God, Sam, is she – ?’

David’s voice. ‘Nina! Come quickly!’ The shout came from within the house, and Nina was out of the car and running, the paramedic close behind her.

Naomi baby, I’m coming, Mummy’s coming, I’m right here…

She crashed through the back door and pulled up short in a large farmhouse kitchen. Which way, which way? The house was silent; it was cold, and seemed deserted – and –

Naomi?

Chapter Thirty-One

Claire’s Story – Glasgow

Something was hissing behind her, but her eyelids were too heavy to open. Panic surged through Claire as she realised she couldn’t move. And her face… something was wrong, her face was broken, tight, something hard was covering her nose – oh God, what was happening? Where was she?

‘Talk to her,’ said a voice. ‘She isn’t deeply unconscious now.’

‘Mum?’

The surge of panic came again as Claire heard the fear in Nina’s voice. It took a monumental effort, but she managed to crack her eyes open. Brightness stabbed into her head but not before she saw the orange curtains hanging round the bed – oh dear Lord, she was in hospital. The thing on her face was an oxygen mask. In a way it was reassuring. They would look after her here, wouldn’t they? Her thoughts drifted into nothing; it was easier.

A bang nearby focussed her mind again. Nina was still there, and she was talking.

‘…and Morag’s looking after Naomi. It’ll be okay, Mum. They’re experts here, it’s a specialist unit so you’re in the best possible place.’

Again and again Claire tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t obey her. It was so horrible. She couldn’t see Nina, but that would be Nina’s hand holding hers, wouldn’t it? She tried to squeeze the cold fingers, but her own remained lifeless. She must be really bad; a specialist unit wasn’t going to be on the island. Had they taken her to Glasgow? Oh dear Lord.

Nina was silent again, but Claire could hear her daughter’s uneven breathing; she could sense Nina’s fear. What was going on? Heavier darkness swung into her head, and a shiver ran through her body. She was hurt; she was badly hurt, maybe she was going to die here… No, no, she couldn’t leave her girls. Oh God, she didn’t want to die, please God… But the darkness was all around now.

A new thought struck and Claire’s mind was suddenly clear. Robert. If she died now Robert would get in touch with Nina. What a shock that would be for her girl, to have a long-dead father appear and say – what? What would Robert tell Nina? And what would Nina say, what would she think of Claire for lying to her all these long years? How stupid she’d been; she should have written that letter to Nina, the one to be opened after her death. Nina would never know why her mother had lied about her father’s death. But maybe she could still put that right.

For a long moment she gathered her strength, then at last she managed to open her eyes. Nina was sitting by the bed, eyes closed and her face pale as… as death. Claire feasted her eyes on her girl. All she needed to do was tell Nina that Robert was alive. Nina must have felt her gaze, for she opened her eyes and leaned forward, clutching Claire’s hand.

‘Mum? Is there something you want?’

Thank God, Nina had realised she wanted to speak. Claire opened her mouth but no sound came out. She tried a whisper.

‘I’m sorry. I should have told you.’

‘Don’t worry, Mum, it’s all right. You can tell me later.’

‘Robert.’

But her voice was gone again, swallowed by the hissing of the mask on her face, and Nina didn’t understand. Claire tried again, with the same result.

Nina patted her shoulder.

‘Relax, Mum. Have a rest for now. I’ll go and phone home, tell them you’re awake. Morag’ll be so…’

Claire’s eyes closed again and she felt herself drifting as Nina continued to speak. Dear God, if she went to sleep now she’d never be able to tell Nina about Robert. All at once she knew that was exactly what was going to happen. The darkness was different now… This wasn’t just floating towards sleep, this was… distancing… leaving… listening to the person she loved most in the world, and knowing she would never see Nina again, or Naomi… She should have told Nina right at the start… or at least, when she had grown up… but Nina would forgive her, Nina loved her…

The world was closing in… her world – Edinburgh, and Bedford… and Arran; she was standing at the top of the hill now, the Firth blue and sparkling down below. Nina was running towards her… how terrible to leave with no goodbye…