The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

by Linda Huber

  ‘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.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wednesday 19th - Thursday 20th July

  The police arrived as they were leaving to go to the ‘Riverside’ event in the country park further down the river. David Mallony stood in the hallway as five other officers clumped past and went straight through to the study.

  ‘Nina, here’s the warrant to search this house. I’m not sure how long we’ll need, but we’ll leave everything tidy for you.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Nina, aware that Naomi’s eyes were growing rounder by the second at the sight of the police calmly taking possession of the place. ‘Naomi and I each have a caseful of clothes in the front bedroom upstairs, and you’ll see I’ve bagged most of John Moore’s clothes and bedding. Help yourselves to whatever you need. Shall I give you a key to lock up when you’re done?’

  She glanced round. Sam had taken Naomi outside to the car.

  ‘You will include the boxes in the attic?’ she said. ‘I’d hate to come across pornographic photos but I do want to look through them in case there’s anything family-related up there. Oh, and the cleaning service told me they removed a load of shredded paper before I arrived. Heaven knows what was there and please, if you do find anything disgusting, take it right away from here. The thought that I’m related to that man is – stomach-turning.’

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll check everything,’ said David Mallony. He gave her a brief salute and turned into the study.

  ‘What did he say? And why did he –’ Naomi was hunched in the passenger seat of Sam’s car, an aggrieved expression on her face. ‘– not let me stay to hear for myself what the police said? I’m not a baby!’ She glared at Sam.

  Still shaken, Nina got in the back and for a moment had to concentrate on remaining calm. She would never understand how Claire had managed to keep such an awful secret all these years. Nina shuddered. John Moore must have been blackmailing Claire in some way. It was the only explanation; her mother would hardly have chosen to act like that. What a swine the man had been. Claire had probably – no, she had definitely acted against the law in saying nothing. Imagine if she was still alive – she could have ended up facing charges. Child pornography was a bit different to stealing petty cash or cooking the books.

  And – dear God in heaven – had any child suffered abuse because Claire hadn’t reported John Moore? That was something they would know by the end of the investigation and the answer was going to be ‘yes’. And Claire must have known that. Bile rose in Nina’s throat and she swallowed, feeling it burn all the way to her stomach. How terrible… Claire’s silence had condemned who knows how many kids to vile abuse. And her mother had lived with this knowledge…

  Naomi turned from the front seat and pouted at her. ‘Mum! I wanted to - ’

  ‘They’re looking for evidence of the illegal business, Naomi.’ Nina gave herself a mental shake. She couldn’t think about the ramifications of Claire’s silence now, with Naomi upset and waiting for an answer. The truth and nothing but the truth, but not quite the whole truth, that was what she needed here. ‘And of course anything that would lead them to the blackmailer. We don’t know who that could be. And Sam was right to take you to the car. Things like this aren’t suitable for children to hear about.’

  Naomi scowled at Sam
, then turned back to Nina. ‘I bet I can understand. What kind of illegal business is it?’

  Nina struggled for words. Not the whole truth indeed. ‘I don’t know exactly, Naomi, and I don’t really want to know either. I’m afraid John Moore wasn’t a very nice person.’

  Naomi was silent, and Nina slumped in her seat. How much did Naomi know about paedophilia? ‘Stranger danger’ had been a theme in their lives, of course, but Nina had never seriously considered they would come into contact with a paedophile. No one did. But the day when she would have to explain more about John Moore’s ‘illegal activities’ was coming, nothing was more sure than that. She should start getting her ideas together about how best to phrase things so that a ten-year-old would understand without losing her faith in the entire human race. Not an easy task.

  The Riverside Water Party, set up by a trio of small lakes in the country park, was lively and crowded, with competitions for children and displays of aquatic sports and other activities. Naomi was fascinated by the water rescue dogs, several of which were enormous Newfoundlanders, and for a long time refused to be tempted away from their stand by the lakeside. Nina and Sam left her to it and settled down under a tree a short distance away where they could keep an eye on her.

  ‘I hope I didn’t stand too hard on the poor kid’s toes back there,’ said Sam, passing Nina a smoked salmon sandwich. ‘She was none too chuffed when I insisted on leaving you alone to talk to the police.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ said Nina fervently. ‘I have no idea how best to explain all this to her. Don’t worry, Sam, she’ll come round. She hasn’t got over her Grandma’s death yet, and losing part of her trekking holiday isn’t helping.’

  To her dismay, however, Nina saw that her daughter was still very miffed with poor Sam. Naomi came back for something to eat with a sullen expression on her face.

  ‘Mum, can I go and buy an ice cream? I don’t like fish,’ she said, turning her nose up at Sam’s cool box. ‘Or chocolate yoghurt.’

  Nina pulled out her purse, refraining from pointing out that both appeared regularly on the table at home and Naomi had yet to voice an objection. If only peace of mind was as easily purchased as ice cream. She would part with any amount of John Moore’s fortune if she could buy something to help Naomi through what had turned into the worst summer of both their lives.

  She watched unhappily as the girl trailed over to the ice cream van and back, demonstratively giving Sam a wide berth. As soon as she’d handed over the change she was off again back to the dogs.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Sam, as they packed up the picnic. ‘I know it’s not personal.’

  He was right, thought Nina. But she could have done without yet another complication. Sam was the closest thing she had to a friend down here, and now Naomi had taken a scunner to him, as Grandma Lily would have said.

  The party continued with music and dancing, and it was after ten when Sam pulled up outside John Moore’s house, Naomi half-drowsing in the back. Nina undid her seat belt. Had the police found anything? Heavens, she had butterflies in her tummy about it – they might have come across something that would change the whole situation. Oh, if only…

  She turned to Sam. ‘Want to come in and see what the police have been up to?’

  ‘You bet,’ he said, pulling the key from the ignition.

  Naomi bounded up in the back seat. ‘The police! Are they still here?’

  The police were gone and the house was tidy, though Nina saw signs everywhere that things had been disturbed, moved, rummaged through. The smell of old books in the study was almost choking, and Nina wrinkled her nose. They must have flicked through John Moore’s entire collection. It was unnerving, even though this wasn’t her home. Her house, but not her home. And what had all those policemen found in her house?

  ‘Mum! They’ve left some boxes from the attic in the living room!’ said Naomi, who was wide awake again, running from room to room.

  Nina went to look. There was a note from David Mallony on the uppermost of three cardboard boxes on the coffee table.

  ‘All the ‘good’ photos are here. We’re taking two further boxes to the station for investigation. Those still in the attic contain clothes and china.’

  Nina breathed in deeply. It sounded as if the ‘further boxes’ contained pornography. Thank Christ she hadn’t left Naomi to explore the attic by herself the other day.

  Sam patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll make coffee, shall I?’ he said. ‘You’ll want to have a look at these.’

  Nina opened the smallest box. It was almost full; there were dozens of small, black and white photos, the kind that would be pre-1960.

  ‘Bo – ring!’ said Naomi theatrically.

  ‘‘Fraid so,’ said Nina, glad that the girl wasn’t itching to look through the photos. ‘I can sort them out, and show you any that are interesting later, okay? Look, it’s late. Why don’t you scoot off and have a nice bath before you go to bed? You can use my new body lotion.’

  To her relief Naomi took the bait and disappeared upstairs. Nina stared round the room, looking for somewhere to lay the photos out to sort through them. The table under the window with its two drop leaves seemed the best bet. She moved the ugly crystal bowl from the table top, and soon created a good-sized surface to work on.

  ‘I don’t think those black and white ones’ll show anything very interesting,’ she said, putting the small box to one side and accepting a mug of coffee from Sam. ‘My father would be a child in these. What I’d really like to find are photos of my parents together, maybe some of me as well. And anything else with people, too.’

  Sam opened the second box. ‘Hm. None of these seem to have a date on them,’ he said, stirring the photos with his index finger. ‘They’re all colour, though, so they’ll be more recent. Why don’t I sort them into those with and without people, and you can arrange the people ones?’

  Twenty minutes work was enough to convince Nina she had a mammoth task on her hands. Surely most families didn’t have half as many snaps as this; one of her relations must have been an enthusiastic amateur photographer. She found several photos of John Moore, but none of her mother or herself, though there were several dozen with strangers. Some included the woman and the little boy who were on the photos Sam had found in the desk, but there was no way to tell who anyone was. Not one of the photos had names or dates on them, and there must be dozens still in the box. Who on earth had taken them all?

  ‘This is hopeless,’ said Nina at last. ‘Or at least it’s a long job and I’m tired. Let’s call it a day. How about a glass of wine to finish up with? If you open it I’ll check on Naomi.’

  Naomi was reading in bed, her eyelids drooping, and Nina’s heart melted. Poor kiddy, she must be thoroughly upset by everything that had happened, and none of it was her fault. Time for some TLC.

  ‘Night, lovey,’ she said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘And don’t worry, things’ll get back to normal soon. Have a think about what you want to do tomorrow. You can choose.’

  Naomi’s lip trembled. ‘I wish I could be at home with my Gran.’

  Nina hugged her. ‘Sweetheart, your Gran will always be a part of you, and of me too,’ she whispered. ‘We’ll always miss her, and you wouldn’t want not to, would you? But you know she’d want us both to be happy and live our lives well. So let’s do that. For her.’

  Naomi smiled sleepily and snuggled into her pillow. Nina tucked the duvet round the little girl and kissed the sun-browned face. What a good feeling it was that she could comfort her child with the sheer force of her words. She should make the most of this phase while it lasted; in a couple of years Naomi wouldn’t be hanging so trustingly on everything her mother said. And how wonderful to have a daughter and to know that they loved each other.

  Downstairs, Sam had opened a bottle of Merlot. ‘Well? Are the troops settled down?’

  He handed over a ruby-filled glass, and Nina sipped. With Naomi beside her and Sam to help, she
was going to get through this.

  ‘Almost asleep. Thank you, Sam. I had a great time, and Naomi did too, though you might find that more difficult to believe.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I can see she’s a great girl.’

  They sat there talking about children and parents and photos and houses, and Nina was startled when she looked at the clock and saw that it was after midnight. Sam left, squeezing her hand and promising to be in touch the next day. Nina watched him go, feeling the awkward silence of the old house envelope her when the sound of his car had gone. Oh, how tired she was. Creeping into the bedroom, she saw that Naomi was sleeping on her front, one hand under her cheek and the other trailing on the floor. Nina tucked her in again and slid into her own bed. It had been an interesting evening in more ways than one.

  Buttered toast in one hand and coffee steaming aromatically by her side, Nina pored over the photos she and Sam had organised last night. Naomi was still asleep, so she could take the chance to do some more sorting. She poked about in the box of colour snaps they’d started on last night. Bloody hell, there were dozens of them. And really, what good would it do, searching through boxes of John Moore’s ancient pics? She wasn’t even sure what was she looking for. The photos might tell her something about her father’s life, but she already knew he’d been the biggest scumbag in creation. He himself had deemed the snaps fascinating enough to keep in the attic, so she was unlikely to find them any more interesting.

  Discouraged, Nina opened the third box. More of the same. Oh! There was something else, too, under the photos.