Текст книги "The Attic Room: A psychological thriller"
Автор книги: Linda Huber
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter Nine
Wednesday 19th July
Naomi was still asleep in her bed by the window when Nina awoke the next morning, and for a few glorious moments she lay still, gazing across at her daughter. How miraculous it was that this perfect being had grown inside her. That her tiny, beautiful baby had developed into such an amazing creature. Mother love must be the greatest emotion possible, she thought, particularly when the children were young and vulnerable. But maybe mothers never lost the feeling no matter what age their children were; maybe she would look at Naomi and feel exactly the same when they were seventy and fifty.
They’d gone to bed early in the largest front bedroom, which in spite of Nina’s apprehension had scrubbed up rather well. There was nothing she could do about the drab paintwork, but a couple of green and blue blankets from the airing cupboard made brilliant throws for the beds, and the pair of blue glass vases she found in the living room cupboard made a second splash of colour on the chest of drawers. Anyway, Naomi was so spaced out by the thought that they’d inherited this enormous house from a ‘sort of cousin’ that she didn’t notice the drabness of the décor. What they should do with the house, and her wrist, were her sole topics of conversation, even when they’d gone to bed and were whispering together like two schoolgirls.
Today would be different, Nina knew. Naomi was no fool. The question about why they didn’t know the exact relationship between them and John Moore wouldn’t be long in coming, and the blackmail letter would get a grilling too. Well, the only thing to do was tell the truth, thought Nina. Tell the truth and shame the devil, like Grandma Lily used to say.
She thought about her grandmother’s words while she was getting dressed. Both Lily and Claire were always so insistent about never telling lies. It was difficult to see why Claire had lied by omission, never mentioning their rich relative in the south of England. She couldn’t have forgotten about him – or had she wanted to forget? And oh God, if John Moore turned out to be her father… that would be such a huge lie… the biggest lie in the world. Nina pushed the thought away.
She lifted the newspaper from behind the front door and stood leafing through it. The death announcement should be in today, yes, here it was. ‘Peacefully, at St Michael’s Hospice on Wednesday, 12th July… John Robert Moore… Relatives and friends are respectfully requested to contact the family in Bedford about funeral arrangements.’
Unconventional, but it was what they needed in the circumstances. It would be interesting to see what kind of response they had. Mind you, unless people were very quick off the mark with their questions all she’d be able to tell them was that the cremation had already taken place. It was to be that morning, and Nina wasn’t going to attend. She would think up some other remembering-family ritual for her and Naomi to do together, something special for Claire, Grandma Lily and Grandpa Bill that didn’t quite leave out John Moore. She wasn’t going to make this into something more important than it was; it would be insincere to pretend that John Moore had meant something to her. But – oh God, if he was her father...
‘What’s for breakfast?’ Naomi was standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a rather grubby pullover.
Nina smiled. Supermum was allowed to use bribery, wasn’t she? ‘Just toast, but we’ll go into town later and have lunch – you can choose a place. The sales are on, we might find you something nice to wear.’
The landline rang while Nina was spooning coffee into the machine, and Naomi ran to answer it.
‘Mum! It’s that lawyer!’ she yelled, and Nina raised her eyes heavenwards. Tact wasn’t Naomi’s strong point.
Sam was chuckling when she lifted the phone. ‘I’ve been called many things, but ‘that lawyer’ isn’t one of them. Is she okay?’
‘She’s fine, but she’s spitting nails about her missed trek. Is there any news?’
‘No. I called to say I’ll phone the crematorium this morning and organise about the ashes. Do you want them scattered in the garden of remembrance there?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’ Nina felt guilty. Should she be doing more with John Moore’s ashes? If he did turn out to be her father, and if the accusations made in the anonymous letter were false, she might regret leaving everything to Sam. But then, if John Moore had cared what happened to his ashes he would have left instructions.
‘I’ll come by late afternoon to let you know what they say.’
Surprised, Nina agreed, and sat nursing another cup of coffee while Naomi finished her third piece of toast then ran upstairs to reorganise her things in John Moore’s chest of drawers. Nina mulled over her coffee. It was hard to see why Sam wasn’t just planning to phone and tell her what he’d arranged for the ashes. She couldn’t shake off the feeling he wanted more contact than she did. Oh yes, she liked him, and she knew that if life had been less messy and distressing she might well have felt differently about his dinner invitations. But a death in the family – or two deaths, as John Moore was family too – plus a grieving daughter, plus a big mess here – it was all too much. She needed Naomi and she needed to find peace before she could think about anything else – and she needed Sam to respect that.
The phone in the study shrilled out again and she jumped up to answer it, limping on her left leg, which had gone to sleep on the hard kitchen chair. Why was everyone calling on the landline today? Oh, her mobile was switched off. She hadn’t wanted anything to disturb her and Naomi the night before. Nina switched it back on and lifted the house phone.
‘Hello?’
A stranger’s voice answered, and Nina’s knees began to shake as she listened to the high-pitched, distorted voice. She held on to the desk with her free hand, feeling her breath catch in her throat.
‘Nina, Nina. It’s you now, you have the money, but it’s not your money, is it, Nina? You did nothing to earn it. I did all the earning and all the suffering, and I want payment for that and I’ll get it, too. Mind that if you know what’s good for you. I’ll be in touch.’
The line went dead. Nina dropped the handset and fell to her knees on the study floor, clutching her middle. Shit, shit, she had spoken to the scumbag blackmailer. Her stomach heaved and she clutched it, oh God she was going to be sick. He had known her name…
Still shaking, she forced herself to her feet and stood leaning on the desk, panting. Please let Naomi stay upstairs, please, her daughter mustn’t see her like this; she’d be scared witless. But that terrible voice… had it been the blackmailer? Or some other pervert after the money… David, she had to call David Mallony, right now this minute. Fighting to keep control of her gut, Nina scrabbled on the desk for the number of the police station.
David came to the phone himself. ‘I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes,’ he said, and the very neutrality in his voice sent a further shiver down Nina’s spine. ‘I was coming round this morning anyway. There’ve been some developments.’
Nina was left holding a dead phone. She stood there, her breath coming in short pants. The developments weren’t going to be good news, she had heard that loud and clear. They must have found out something about John Moore, something that was too horrible to tell her over the phone. And hell, Naomi was right here in the middle of it all. Oh, what should she do, what should she do? Loneliness crept into her head as she realised that apart from Sam, there was nobody she could call on for help.
‘Mum! What’s wrong?’
Naomi was beside her, putting her arms round her, cuddling her. Nina held on tightly, feeling Naomi’s heart beating next to her own and breathing in the scent of her child. Blessed calmness crept through her. This, right here, was the single important thing in her life. For Naomi, she could – and would – do anything.
Strengthened, Nina made sure her voice was reassuring. ‘It’s all right, darling. Remember I told you John Moore had been sent a blackmail letter? Well, the – I think that was the blackmailer on the phone. It gave me a fright but I’ve called the police and they’re coming round. Naomi, darling, I want you to be very good and stay upstairs while they’re here.’
She saw refusal in Naomi’s face and went on firmly. ‘I promise I’ll tell you afterwards what’s going on, but some of the things DI Mallony might want to talk about aren’t for you to hear yet.’
The doorbell rang before Naomi could answer, and Nina kept the girl hugged to her side while she answered it. David Mallony was there with Sabine Jameson.
‘This is my daughter Naomi. She’s going upstairs while we talk.’
Naomi tugged at Nina’s sleeve. ‘Can I go right up to the attic room? I could see what’s in those old boxes?’
Nina opened her mouth to agree, but David was already speaking.
‘Right – um – hello Naomi. Ah, Nina, I should have told you – don’t touch the boxes, will you?’ he said, looking from Nina to Naomi in a way that made Nina feel giddy. She listened incredulously as he went on.
‘We might need to, um, fingerprint them later. In fact it might be an idea if DC Sabine here goes upstairs with you, Naomi.’
Nina gaped at him. Why on earth would the police want to fingerprint the boxes in the attic? They didn’t look as if anyone had been near them for decades. The sick feeling returned to her stomach. What was going on?
The young detective followed Naomi upstairs, and David Mallony turned to Nina, his face grim.
‘You can guess it’s not good news,’ he said, as they went into the kitchen and sat down.
‘We found large numbers of pornographic images on the hard drive of John Moore’s computer, most of them involving young boys. Children. Paedophilia. I’m sorry.’
Nina inhaled sharply and clapped both hands to her mouth. So the horrible suspicion had become even more horrible reality. For long seconds she couldn’t speak. She was living in this man’s house, using his towels, drinking his coffee. And she’d stood beside him in his coffin and felt pity, shit, she’d admired him for being brave… and all the time he’d been the worst kind of low-life possible.
‘Christ. What can I tell Naomi?’ she whispered.
David Mallony leaned towards her. ‘You’ll have to think about that. We don’t know yet if he simply kept the images for his own gratification, or whether he was involved in distributing them – or making them.’
Nina’s head reeled. This was getting worse and worse. What if -
‘Oh God – does that mean the blackmailer was telling the truth?’
But the answer to that must be ‘yes’… dear God… Her relation had been the absolute worst kind of pervert, for nothing could be worse than abusing children. And oh, fuck… had it only been other children? Or had she been abused too? Had she ‘screamed her poor little head off’?
Her gut spasmed as she stared in horror at David Mallony, seeing the sympathy in his eyes. The only thing that would make her feel a tiny bit better was if John Moore was no relation to her at all. And that seemed so very unlikely now.
‘Have you found out his relationship to me?’ Her voice came out a mere whisper, and continued silently in her head. Please let him be a ten millionth cousin a billion times removed, please…
His voice was heavy. ‘Bad news again, I’m afraid. There’s a marriage registered between him and Claire Lily Donaldson. One child, Nina Claire Moore. And there was no divorce.’
Nina thudded her fist on the table. What the shit had Claire been thinking? This would be why she left Bedford with Nina, and she must have had her reasons for keeping the paedophilia a secret, but it had still been wrong. It was all very well holding something like that back from a child, but Nina should have been told as soon as she’d grown up.
David Mallony nodded approvingly. ‘That’s right. Be angry. Don’t get into the victim role. All this is nothing to do with you, and you’ll cope best if you think like that. The DNA test will confirm the relationship. In the meantime we’re going to have to search this house, and we’ll bug your landline in case the blackmailer calls again. And if he does I think you should move out of here.’
‘Oh God – I don’t know what to do for the best.’ Nina rubbed her face with both hands. ‘Is there any reason we can’t go home straightaway?’
But if they did that, she would only have to return at some point to finish the business with the house. How very much better it would be to get it all organised first and then never darken John Moore’s door again.
‘It’s up to you,’ said David.
Nina bit her lip. She might as well get the job finished. It wouldn’t take long, a planning session with Sam and then she could sign anything necessary, clear the house and then be off… and they would manage it quicker living here than in a hotel.
‘Okay. I’ll stay in town another day or two but if anything more happens we’ll go to a hotel. That was why you sent the policewoman upstairs with Naomi, wasn’t it – in case there are boxes of nasty photos up there.’
‘Yes. But don’t worry. If there’s anything to be found we’ll get it out of here,’ he said. ‘Now, tell me what this caller said, as exactly as you can remember.’
When the two officers left Nina checked the time. Shit, it was twelve already. What a stomach-turning way to spend a morning. She turned to Naomi, who was standing in the hallway, her face one big question mark.
‘Right, Miss,’ said Nina briskly. ‘Information. First of all, the police have found out that John Moore was involved in some sort of – of illegal business. That’s why he was being blackmailed. So he was wrong and the blackmailer was wrong too. Secondly, and I don’t understand this myself yet, but there’s a possibility that John Moore was my father. The test results will tell us that and they should be back in a day or two so let’s wait for them before we get carried away about that, okay?’ Half-truths maybe, but this way she’d have a bit more badly-needed thinking time.
Naomi’s eyes were fixed on Nina’s. Nina reached out and hugged the girl quickly. Thank God her daughter was old enough to understand this much, at least. Pretending that everything was all right would have been next to impossible.
‘Thirdly, the police are coming to have a look round here, to see if there’s any evidence that might help them investigate the illegal business. They’re going to tap the landline too, in case the blackmailer calls again, so don’t you answer that phone, ever, no matter what. And fourthly you are one mucky pup, skedaddle upstairs and change that disgusting pullover before we go into town.’
Naomi giggled, then caught Nina’s arm. ‘Mum – it’s going to be okay, isn’t it?’
Nina hugged her again. ‘As Inspector Mallony said, it’s really nothing to do with us, so yes, it’ll be okay in the end. It’s a bit messy at the moment, though, but you don’t have to worry about that. Okay?’
Naomi shot off upstairs, and Nina pulled out her mobile. Under the circumstances it might be best if she disturbed Sam’s lunch hour to tell him what was going on. He listened without interrupting, and his voice was angry when he spoke.
‘What a bastard, threatening you like that. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine now. It was horrible at the time. And apparently John Moore is my father, Sam. I feel sick about that.’
‘I know. Some of the queries I put through came back too. You have a couple of cousins as well, but no one that could upset the will so nothing changes there. If you wanted to get in touch with them we could find them for you. Nina, I was wondering if you and Naomi would like to go for a picnic by the river – there’s some kind of water event on today. I think Naomi might enjoy it, and it would get you out of the place when the police are searching it. What time are they coming?’
‘About four. That sounds perfect; she’s a real water-rat. Thanks, Sam.’
His voice was warm in her ear. ‘Great. I’ll bring the grub.’
Nina put the phone down and stood staring at it. Cousins? So they did have family in England…
Chapter Ten
Claire’s story – Edinburgh
‘Squirrel, squirrel!’ cried Nina, running across the grass in Princes Street Gardens, losing both her red Christmas mittens in the process. Claire and Lily laughed.
‘She’s having a ball here, isn’t she?’ said Lily, as Claire returned from retrieving Nina’s mitts.
Claire could only agree. Her gaze swung from the dark heights of Edinburgh Castle towering above them, to the shoppers up on Princes Street, a colourful mass of well-wrapped-up bargain hunters doing the January sales. And Nina wasn’t the only one who was enjoying Edinburgh life. It wasn’t until she came home to stay with her parents that Claire realised how much time she’d spent in Bedford walking around on tip-toe, afraid to make her presence felt in case Robert lashed out with another hurtful remark.
Marry in haste, repent at leisure was dead right, she thought, watching Lily point out the people at the top of the Scott Monument to distract Nina from chasing squirrels. It had taken the geographical separation from Robert before she’d allowed herself to think too much about it. Living with Mum and Dad was so restful in comparison. And in the few weeks since their arrival Nina had become chattier, laughing more too, which made Claire angry. Even a baby like Nina was sensitive to the atmosphere in a house, and after what Paul said that awful afternoon in Bedford there was no way of knowing how long Robert had been bullying the children – without her noticing a thing. She hadn’t been much of a mother to her child, but she was going to change that now.
‘I want to stay in Edinburgh, Mum,’ she said quietly, and Lily squeezed her arm.
‘Of course you can stay. I’m sorry things haven’t worked out for you and Robert, but you tried, and your Dad and I’ll help all we can. It’s a good thing I’m not working – you can find a job and I’ll be there to take care of Nina.’
Claire squeezed back. Her parents had always done the old-fashioned thing. Mum was housewife and Dad was breadwinner. It was the right arrangement for them.
She straightened her shoulders. The ‘holiday’ was over. She would go to the job centre tomorrow; she couldn’t expect her parents to support her and Nina indefinitely. Another problem was that the Morningside semi where she had grown up only had two bedrooms, so as well as a job she would have to find a flat. Life in Edinburgh would be a lot less luxurious than life in Bedford, but then money couldn’t buy the important things anyway.
And oh, Lord, she’d have to get things organised with Robert, child support and so on. All he knew was what she’d told him when she called from King’s Cross before boarding the train for Edinburgh – that she didn’t like his behaviour and wanted a ‘trial separation over Christmas’. Not that she’d had any idea of returning, but it was as well to give him time to get used to the idea. He phoned every few days, trying to persuade her back to Bedford, but all she heard in his voice now was insincerity. He would be missing someone to keep the place clean, of course. How on earth could she have been so taken in by his good looks and charm? Unbelievable, how naive she’d been. But that was over.
She called Robert that night and informed him curtly that she wanted a divorce. It was easy to be brave when your abusive soon-to-be-ex-husband was several hundred miles away, and Claire congratulated herself on her decisive tone.
Robert, however, was equally firm. ‘I’m not discussing this on the phone,’ he said, and she could hear the anger in his voice. ‘I’ll come up to Edinburgh at the weekend. But I warn you, Claire, I’m not giving Nina up. She’s my daughter too and I want her back here, with or without you.’
Claire gripped the phone, her fingers shaking. She would tell Robert what she thought of him, right now, in case her new-found bravery deserted her when he was standing in front of her.
‘Oh yes? You love her so much you bullied her and Paul and frightened them both half to death, not to mention hurting them,’ she said, distance allowing the sneer in her voice . ‘That’s abuse, you know. It’s despicable. Paul told me all about what you did that last afternoon, oh, yes. Not much love there, was there? If I went to the police with a story like that they would stop you seeing Nina first thing and you know it.’
There was silence at the end of the phone. His breath had caught when she’d spoken, so she’d taken the wind out of his sails anyway. Apparently he did know that hitting small children was unacceptable.
‘We’ll talk at the weekend,’ he said at last, and hung up before she could reply.
Claire thought carefully about how best to arrange her meeting with Robert. No way was she inviting him to her parents’ home; she would take him somewhere in town. It might actually be an idea to ask Lily to come along for moral support – Robert would be more restrained if his mother-in-law was there too. But then, it was hardly fair to drag Lily into her mess of a marriage.
In the end she decided to meet him alone, in a coffee bar on Hanover Street near Waverley Station. That would be better than parading up and down outside with Robert making snide remarks and possibly even threats. She and her friends used to go to ‘Saluti a Tutti’ on Saturday nights when they were teenagers, and the proprietor, a fatherly Milanese, would chase them out at midnight with a great deal of Scottish-Italian humour. Today, she was glad to see him still manning the espresso machine. If Robert tried anything on, she’d only have to shout and Guido would come running.
It wasn’t an easy conversation. Robert arrived at the coffee bar while she was standing chatting to Guido, who melted away tactfully. Claire gathered her courage and frowned at Robert, who greeted her with his most charming smile, called her his ‘wee lassie’ for the first time since before she’d been pregnant and would have hugged her, too, if she hadn’t sidestepped. He ordered her favourite cappuccinos for them both and he was calm, witty, articulate – in fact he turned his considerable powers of persuasion on full strength, and Claire realised anew why she’d fallen for him in the first place. This time, however, she knew it was an act, and when he paused to sip his coffee she told him quite bluntly that her mind was made up.
‘We’ve grown apart, Rob,’ she said, determinedly holding his gaze. ‘There’s no way we can start again, and I don’t want to, either. Nina and I are staying here in Edinburgh and that’s that. And you know you’d never get custody. If I reported what you’d done, Paul would be well able to tell the police or social services what happened, and so would Nina. She talks away nineteen to the dozen now. And we know why she didn’t talk as much in Bedford, don’t we?’
How mean she was, blackmailing him like that. If every father who had ever struck his children lost custody, there would be an awful lot of fatherless kids in the country. A sad but true fact, even in these enlightened days. And of course it was equally true for mothers, though she had never lifted a hand to her child. But a lot of people did, and Robert was probably going to tell her all about them right now.
He was staring at her, and she noticed with interest that his face had gone white with a red splodge of colour on both cheeks. She had touched a nerve there. Good.
‘All right, Claire,’ he said at last, his voice tight. ‘If that’s the way you want to play it, then so be it.’
He pulled out his chequebook and started to write. ‘I’ll give you this. It’s a one-off, and it’s a lot more than you’d get if you reported me and went through the official channels, believe me. In return you can get right out of my life. I don’t want to see you or hear from you again, and the same goes for Nina. Got that?’
He slid the cheque across the table and she lifted it. Fifty thousand pounds. Bloody hell, how unbelievable. Fifty thousand pounds. He was selling her his daughter. Did he have that kind of money – and if he did, where the hell had it come from? She swallowed, then managed to speak calmly.
‘Very well. I’ll tell her you had an accident and died, will I, when she asks? And never fear, Mum and Dad don’t know the gory details. I’ll put this in the bank on Monday, Rob, and if it bounces I’ll go straight to the police.’
It was an empty threat, of course. For what would the police say when she told them that her husband had hit her daughter – not marking her, mind you, for Claire had checked the same evening and there wasn’t a hint of a bruise on Nina – and then offered her fifty thousand pounds to get out of his life? She had no proof that Robert had struck the children, just the word of a six-year-old who was upset anyway because his mother was lying downstairs pissed out of her mind.
Claire could see Robert was trying hard to control his temper, and she stood up, smiling into his face. For once she had the upper hand and it was a powerful, intoxicating feeling. A pay-back in a small way for the hurt he had caused her.
‘Goodbye, Rob. Forever.’ Conscious of Guido grinning behind the counter, Claire swept outside, leaving her cappuccino half-finished.
It was the kind of exit that belonged in a trashy film, she thought, laughing out loud as soon as she rounded the corner. Well, that was the end of her connection to the Moore family. Emily was the only one she’d really liked, but Robert had never sought much contact to his aunt.
And poor little Paul… It was a pity she couldn’t help him, but she had to look out for Nina first. Anyway, when Paul told his mother about Rob’s behaviour she would do something about it. Even Jane must rate her child higher than a bottle of gin.
It wasn’t until she was in bed that night, Nina asleep in the too-small cot beside her, that Claire began to wonder if she’d done the right thing. They hadn’t even discussed the divorce. And what reason did Robert have to pay all that money in exchange for her silence – for that was what he’d done. She still didn’t know where on earth his money came from.
A new thought slid into her head. He must be involved in some kind of criminal activity. That was the only explanation; he was doing something illegal, something that would put him in prison if it was found out. And if the police or child welfare people got involved, whatever it was would be discovered. So possibly she was doing wrong too, accepting the money. Had he done something really wicked? Something that would shock her so much that she would go to the police, if she knew what it was? But no. Not charming Robert Moore. It would be embezzlement or fraud or something sordid like that.
Claire lay gazing across the dimness to Nina, whose plump, rosy cheeks looked at least three times as healthy as they had in Bedford, and came to a decision. Nina deserved a good life. Fifty thousand pounds would make the difference between managing comfortably, and scrimping. She would take the money and forget all about Robert Moore. So what if he made his money embezzling other crooks – she knew nothing for sure. If she reported him she would lose the fifty thousand that was going to buy them all a future.
So she would just hold her tongue. It was much the best way for Nina.
