The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

by Linda Huber

  Her mouth tight, Claire rinsed a washcloth under the tap in the downstairs toilet and wiped Jane’s face with it. She had done this many times before, but today would be the last time. This time tomorrow, both Jane and Bedford would be out of her life forever.

  Chapter Eight

  Tuesday 18th July

  The doorbell rang when Nina was swallowing her last bite of toast on Tuesday morning and surfing the news sites on Sam’s laptop. She glanced up to see a police car parked outside and hurried to the door. Hopefully they’d found out something that would set her mind at rest about John Moore. Hearing that the anonymous letter was from a vicious conman trying to trick a sick man out of his money would be the best possible start to the day. You heard about things like that all the time and John Moore would have been an easy target, in his condition.

  DI Mallony was standing on the doorstep, staring at the ivy-covered walls.

  ‘No real news yet, but I thought I’d stop by anyway and tell you how things are progressing,’ he said, following her into the kitchen and accepting a mug of coffee.

  ‘All I want to know is who I am in relation to John Moore. And it would be great to hear that the blackmail letter is a pack of lies,’ said Nina frankly.

  ‘I can imagine, but all I can tell you is that John Moore has no criminal record and he isn’t on the sex offenders register. And apart from your own, there are no fingerprints on the anonymous letter. If you come across another, call us straightaway. That letter wasn’t the first.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Nina, remembering the bags of shredded papers the cleaner had told her about. She wasn’t likely to find the letter’s predecessors. He hadn’t been kidding when he said ‘no real news’, she thought glumly. But no news was good news, wasn’t it?

  She cupped her hands round the comforting warmth of her mug. ‘So what else is there to do?’

  ‘John Moore’s laptop’s being investigated; we should have more information about that later today,’ said David Mallony, draining his mug. ‘I’ll be in touch. Oh, and I’ve marked your paternity test ‘urgent’.’

  Nina closed her eyes in relief. Thank God for technology. Old records might fail her, but the test would remove all uncertainty. And surely Claire hadn’t lied all these years…

  ‘I’ll be here all day,’ she said, accompanying him to the door. Things were moving along, not exactly a mile a minute, true, but they were moving. And in an odd way, the very fact that the police weren’t treating it as super-urgent was reassuring too.

  And at least John Moore didn’t have a police record as long as Brighton pier. Nina grimaced. She could still hope he was a nice innocent reclusive forty-second cousin. It was frustrating being stuck in limbo like this, but on the other hand it was giving her the chance to get the house cleared. Look on the bright side, Nina. She would get those bundles for the charity shop finished now.

  The doorbell rang again while she was looking for the string, which had disappeared completely since the previous day. Nina jogged up the hallway to the front door. This was turning into quite an ‘at home’ day, and she couldn’t think who this caller could be. Sam was expecting to be in court till lunchtime at least.

  A worried-looking middle-aged woman was standing on the doorstep. Frowning, she peered short-sightedly into Nina’s face and then beyond her into the darkness.

  ‘Hello, dear, is everything all right? I live next door, we only got back last night but when I saw the police car this morning I had to come and see…’

  Aha, thought Nina. This would either be a nosy busybody or a genuinely concerned neighbour, and either might be able to provide her with some useful information.

  ‘Come in and have a coffee,’ she suggested, holding the door open.

  The woman, whose name was Pat Cox, didn’t need a second invitation. Nina made fresh coffee, reflecting she’d be hyper for the rest of the day at this rate. Pat listened to her account of the past week with a horrified expression, though Nina didn’t mention the anonymous letter. She didn’t want the sordid little story to be all over Bedford by lunchtime.

  Pat rubbed her face. ‘Oh my goodness. I’d no idea. I knew he wasn’t well but we didn’t think for a minute… He always kept himself to himself, Mr Moore, a nice quiet gentleman. And this past fortnight we’ve been away on holiday, Florence and Rome and then a week at Rimini, such a busy resort, dear, you should see the crowds on that beach. Oh dear. Nigel’ll be right sorry to hear this.’

  A concerned neighbour, decided Nina. Good.

  ‘Do you know anything about John’s friends?’ she asked.

  Pat looked thoughtful. ‘Like I said he kept himself to himself, your uncle. I can’t say we knew him but he was a good neighbour. He was away a lot of the time – the house was often dark in the evenings. Being next door of course we noticed that.’

  Nina was silent. She had introduced herself as Nina Moore, saying that John Moore had left her the house. Pat had put two and two together and come up with what was probably the most likely solution to an outsider. There didn’t seem to be anything Nina could say without telling Pat way more than she wanted to. But it couldn’t do any harm to press for as much as the other woman knew about John Moore.

  ‘My mother had no contact with John for as long as I can remember,’ she said, topping up Pat’s mug. ‘Do you know if he had any other family, or good friends, even, in the area – people who came round to visit, maybe?’

  Pat shook her head. ‘A young man visited quite a lot a while back. I always assumed he was a nephew or something. We noticed him because he always parked in front of our place. We haven’t seen him for a while, though. And sometimes there would be older men, too, friends, I suppose. But nothing much, like I said... Oh dear. When’s the funeral?’

  ‘He didn’t want one. I’m here to clear the house as much as I can this week and then it’ll be going on the market.’

  Pat stood up. ‘Well, I won’t keep you. What this place needs is a team of decorators, and then a big family living in it. It would make a lovely family home and being so close to London you’ll sell it no bother.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ said Nina. ‘Thanks for coming by, Pat. It’s good to know that John had nice neighbours.’

  How hypocritical, she thought, closing the door behind the woman. But the picture of John Moore was becoming stranger with every person she spoke to. Few visitors to the house, a cleaning lady he’d exchanged a mere handful of words with in five years, neighbours who barely knew him. The man seemed to have been a positive recluse, and really, it was hard to imagine Claire marrying someone like that. Claire had been a real people person, she’d loved having friends and family around her. But then again, if opposites did attract… Nina shrugged. There was no way to know what had happened back then. She would just have to wait for the test results. And hallelujah, here was the string.

  She was bringing bundles of bedware down to the study, which had turned into a kind of half-way house for goods on their way to the charity shop, when her mobile rang. Goodness, it was Beth, what an odd time... Hell, was Naomi - ?

  Nina’s heart thundered into top gear and she spoke before Beth had the chance to say hello. ‘Is Naomi all right?’

  Beth’s voice was calm. ‘She’s fine, lovey, but she fell off her pony this morning and sprained her wrist, so it’s no more riding for her this week. She wants to come and join you, Nina. What will I tell her?’

  Nina gripped the phone. Her baby was hurt and she was stuck at the other end of the country. Shit, why the hell had she ever come here? ‘Oh God. Has she seen a doctor? Let me speak to her?’

  ‘Yes, I took her to Lamlash for an X-Ray and she honestly is fine, Nina. Tim’s taken her to help him buy more canoeing stuff, but she’s upset about losing the rest of the trekking course and she wants to be with her mum. Any sign of your business finishing?’

  Homesickness rattled through Nina – she wanted nothing more than to be with Naomi. If she was on Arran they could go long walks along
the beach and she could help Naomi get over the hurt wrist and the disappointment. As it was…

  Nina thought swiftly. She could hardly expect Beth to take care of a bored, frustrated ten-year-old and run the B&B at the same time. ‘Of course she can come here. Do you want me to find out about flights?’

  ‘No, I’ll do that. We’ll get her on one today, I promise. Speak soon.’

  Nina broke the connection and stood still. Naomi was coming here to this dingy, depressing house, to be right in the middle of a police investigation for blackmail and possible paedophilia, and Nina couldn’t even tell her daughter what relation John Moore was to them. And yet –

  I am really pleased, thought Nina, standing there grinning at the piles of sheets on the floor. Naomi was coming; that would brighten things up and give them both something fresh to think about. Should they stay here or go to the hotel? Which would Naomi prefer?

  Stay here, she realised after just two seconds’ thought. Naomi would want to explore the house and help get everything packed up. Okay. They couldn’t both sleep in the downstairs bedroom, so…

  She was arranging a pair of single beds in one of the upstairs rooms when Sam arrived with tuna sandwiches and two large chunks of Black Forest Gateau. Over their meal Nina told him about the morning’s events and he listened, sandwich in hand.

  ‘Wow, you’ve been busy. And as the police have pinched my job finding out about John’s family I’ve taken the rest of the day off. I can take you to meet Naomi if you want. I’m afraid we might be looking at a trip to Heathrow.’

  He was right. Nina left Sam in a coffee bar to give herself some time alone with Naomi, and hurried through the arrivals area in Terminal 2. Thank heavens it was midweek. At least the airport was less busy than at the weekend. Which meant it was mobbed without being completely chaotic, she thought, skirting a group of irate people who appeared to have lost their relative. Bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, Nina checked the board – the plane was down. Not long now till she could hug her girl and oh, how brilliant was that?

  ‘Mum!’ Naomi flew towards her and flung herself into Nina’s arms. ‘Oh Mum, Mrs Anderson wouldn’t let me finish the ride though I told her my arm was okay and the doctor said it was only a sprain too.’

  Nina hugged back gently, fighting back the desire to laugh at Naomi’s aggrieved expression. She took hold of the bandaged wrist and examined it.

  ‘Oh sweetheart. Doesn’t it hurt?’

  ‘Not much. They gave me pills at the hospital. It’s not fair. I was getting on so well.’

  She put one arm round Nina’s waist as they walked towards the exit, cuddling up, and Nina squeezed back gently. This was a time for one hundred per cent sympathy.

  ‘It’s such bad luck, but I promise when your wrist’s better we’ll get you on another trek. You’ve got all summer on Arran this year so we’re bound to manage something.’

  Naomi nodded, her expression still glum. Nina kissed the honey-coloured hair and hugged Naomi closer, feeling the tension in the child’s body. This wasn’t all to do with a sprained wrist and the loss of a couple of days trekking. Naomi had the death of her grandmother to contend with as well, not to mention having contact with her father reduced to Skype conversations. And a mother who’d deserted her…

  The little girl sniffed disconsolately. ‘Are we going back to Bedford now?’

  ‘Yes. The lawyer’s driving us back. Sam Harrison. He’s helping us this afternoon because the police have taken over some of his work to find out how we’re related to John Moore.’

  ‘The police? Why?’

  The news at least had the effect of distracting Naomi from her misery. Nina hugged the girl again. She had already concluded that there was no point trying to hide what was going on from Naomi, so the explanation would give her daughter still more food for thought, even though Nina was going to keep schtum about the paedophilia part for the moment.

  ‘Because a letter arrived for John Moore yesterday, trying to blackmail him – that means threaten him to make him do something, and that’s illegal. So I called the police. Look, here’s the coffee shop where we’re meeting Sam.’

  Naomi was quiet on the drive back to Bedford. They were a mile or two south of Luton when her mobile rang, and she had an animated conversation with her father in Cape Town. Nina listened, holding Naomi’s hand. They were both in the back seat, which made poor Sam look like a chauffeur.

  Eventually Naomi clicked off her mobile and blinked up at Nina. ‘Dad says he sprained his wrist when he was about my age too, when he fell downstairs. He said it was better in a week or two. Oh, Mummy, I wish it had never happened. The others’ll be out there riding right now. And we were going to gallop on the beach at Kildonan tomorrow, and take the ponies into the sea. It’s not fair.’

  Naomi subsided, nestling up close again, and Nina’s heart sank. Naomi had way too much to cope with at the moment, that was what wasn’t fair. She wasn’t usually a clingy, cuddly child. It was time to be supermum for a while, make sure that their dead relation’s non-presence in their lives didn’t worry Naomi any more than she was worried already.

  ‘Ladies. What do you want to do about food?’

  Nina glanced out of the window. They were approaching the exit for Bedford. She and Sam had discussed possible dinner plans on the way to Heathrow, but Nina wanted to see how Naomi was before making any decisions. Originally of course she’d been supposed to go to Sam’s flat for pizza. Nina sighed. She could tell Naomi wasn’t in the mood for fun evenings out.

  ‘I think we’ll go straight back to the house, Sam,’ she said. ‘Naomi’s tired – and of course I want to show her everything, too.’ This last was added on quickly as Naomi stirred indignantly. Silly me, thought Nina, grinning in spite of herself. Ten-year-olds didn’t get tired, they were almost grown-up already, not babies…

  Sam’s shoulders drooped and for a brief moment Nina felt guilty. But Naomi needed a cosy evening with Mum and lots of cuddles. And she was the luckiest woman in the world to be able to give her daughter just that.

  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 sh
e 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.