by Linda Huber
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.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Helplessness. The sensation fluttered round Nina’s head while nausea dragged at her gut. She was stuck in a car with her newly-found cousin, who was in the middle of a major breakdown – what the shit was she going to do? Her stomach cramping, she tried to steady herself, clutching the door and the side of her seat and hardly daring to breathe as Paul drove on, swerving round corners and flooring the accelerator on the straight. The engine howled and Nina was thrown from left to right, the seatbelt tearing repeatedly into the tender skin of her neck. They were in another housing estate now, quite a long way from the first one, and she hadn’t recognised any of the places they’d passed through. The streets became progressively dingier and more litter-strewn, and Nina breathed out as Paul was forced to slow down. At last he pulled up in front of a neglected semi, beer cans scattered across the pavement in front of the house. A fresh wave of dread broke over Nina as he switched the engine off and turned to her.
‘This isn’t a nice place, Nina, and I’m sorry. But no one’s going to think of looking for us here so it’s the best place to be.’
His voice was pitched higher than normal and it cracked on the last word. Nina’s throat closed in terror. She’d heard that voice before… The blackmailer on the phone was Paul. Shit, hell… Paul had taunted her and threatened Naomi… What on earth was he trying to do? She clenched her fists to stop her hands shaking.
With growing horror she realised there had never been a bomb, or a phone call from the police. It had been Paul, getting her – and the supposed money – out of the house and away with him. He must have made the call to John Moore’s phone from his mobile, right in front of her stupid nose while she was sitting on the sofa texting bloody smilies to Naomi. And then he’d gone out when Sabine answered the call… Nina bit back a moan. He must have hurt Sabine, knocked her out, or worse. And oh God – no one knew where they were… What a gullible cow she was, she’d believed every word he told her. But why was he doing this?
Paul undid both their seatbelts. ‘We’re going inside – and you’d better be quiet about it. Remember my gun.’
Nina said nothing, concentrating for the moment on not having hysterics. She had to get a grip; be in control – but how impossible that seemed now. Paul was waiting by the passenger seat door, and Nina was unable to prevent the shudder when he grasped her elbow and steered her towards the house. She stared round wildly, but no help was at hand. Apart from a little gang of hooded teenagers lingering raucously at the corner about thirty yards away, the street was empty of people.
‘Paul, please. Let’s talk. I’m sure can work something out.’ She tried her best to sound understanding and firm but it was impossible, her voice was shaking. He must know how afraid she was – hell, look at the expression on his face. What a bastard; he was enjoying her fear. That was what those madmen who abducted people got off on, wasn’t it? – the feeling of power over their victim.
He didn’t answer, and all she could do was stand and watch as he opened the shabby front door, revealing a narrow hallway. A stained and smelly carpet covered the floor and the walls were painted what had probably started out magnolia, but time and touch and cigarette smoke had transformed them into patchy grey and beige. Stairs, the carpeting worn bare in the centre of each tread, rose into darkness on the left, and the stench of poverty and squalor was rife.
Horrified, Nina stumbled as he pushed her inside. ‘Shit, what kind of place is this? Do you live here?’
His eyes were shining brightly, and yes, those were tears she saw there… maybe she could still get out of this. Hope swelled painfully in her head.
‘Of course not.’ The indignation in his voice would have been funny in other circumstances. He hustled her down the unlit passageway. ‘This is all your fault. You’ve ruined everything. I have spent months, Nina, years, doing research, looking for those scumbag paedos, and it was going so well until you arrived and got the police involved. I’ve met a lot of – undesirable people, shall we say, and this place belongs to one of them. Oh, don’t worry. He’s in prison. So we’ll be safe enough in the meantime and more importantly, no one will find us.’
Paul pushed her into the kitchen at the back of the house and Nina felt a hysterical urge to laugh. She hadn’t been impressed by John Moore’s kitchen, but this one was ten million times worse. It was indescribably filthy and apart from an ancient-looking gas cooker there were no appliances at all. A thick, pungent smell hung about the place and made her eyes water. It obviously hadn’t been lived in properly for a very long time. Paul pointed to a greasy wooden chair and Nina sat, shuddering. Her legs had lost their strength again.
Paul laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not quite up to your standards, is it?’ he said, the sneer in his voice increasing Nina’s fear.
She looked at him bleakly, unsure how to reply. This kitchen wasn’t up to anyone’s standards. Normal people didn’t live like this.
‘Paul – please tell me why you’re doing this. What do you mean, you were looking for paedos?’
Keep him talking, try to get him back on your side, Nina. It was as if her own voice was inside her head now, Christ, was she going mad too? But if he didn’t tell he
r there was no way she could help either of them. Hell, she didn’t even know if she wanted to help him after this, but she had to help herself because she had a daughter out there waiting for her. Naomi, Naomi baby, it’s going to be all right, please, it must be all right…
He slumped into a second chair and sat staring at her. ‘You really don’t know what you’ve done, do you?’ he said, his voice a strange mixture of regret and contempt.
Suddenly Nina was angry. ‘No, I don’t. From where I’m sitting I’ve done everything right. I was trying to cooperate with the police when I came up against what seemed to be criminal activity. So tell me what I did wrong.’
He was sitting with his hands in the pockets of his jerkin, but now he leaned towards her, his expression malevolent. Nina shrank back into her chair. She would have to be more careful what she said, it would be a mistake to anger him more than she had already. She listened, horror growing inside her as he spoke.
‘I’ve found them, Nina. Most of them. Those dirty old men who paid our dads for – us. I was made redundant last year and I went to your dad for money – I reckoned he owed it to me – and after a little persuasion he gave me what I needed. But it started me thinking, remembering what happened in that house. Those filthy pigs… so I started to look for them. Your dad - ’
Nina recoiled at his last words, he said them with such venom, and he was doing it to hurt her. She could tell by the way he watched her response and smiled briefly. There was no way she could keep the anguish from her face.
‘- your dad gave me some names, after a little more persuasion, and I looked them up. And you know what? All they wanted was to save their own disgusting skins. Every single one of them. It was child’s play to get money from them, but that wasn’t the best bit, oh no – I got to see them squirm. They were terrified their dirty little secret was going to come out, and they were all prepared to give me more names as well as hard cash. But I haven’t finished, Nina, there are two more I definitely remember doing vile things to me, and I haven’t found them yet. And you, stupid interfering madam that you are, have upset the whole bloody thing.’
Nina closed her eyes momentarily, overwhelmed by the mental picture of what had happened in the attic at the hands of these men.
‘And is money and seeing them squirm enough for you?’ she whispered.
He laughed again, he actually laughed at that, and Nina began to sob, she couldn’t help it. His laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
‘Enough? Oh no – but you see I’m going to give their names to the papers. And my dad’s name too, and your dad’s, even though he’s out of it now. That way, the ones I haven’t found’ll still be terrified, like I – like we were, Nina. And it’s not just those creeps from your dad’s attic room I found. There are others, too, and some of them did a lot worse things to other kids, pretty little girls and nice little boys like you and I were. I confronted them too and got to see them squirm as well. I’m going to take all their money and then one day, when I’ve found a nice round number, maybe a hundred, maybe two, I’ll give every single name to the papers. Oh yes, that’ll be enough. One day. But for now you’ve buggered it all up.’
Nina stared bleakly. She was a victim of these crimes too. Was she to have no say in what they did with their abusers? Apparently not. But in an odd way she could even sympathise with Paul here.
‘If you give the police the names you have up to now they’ll be able to find the others.’
‘You might be right about that, little cousin. But that’s not what I want. I want to stand in front of these kiddy-fuckers first and watch the terror in their eyes. And I should be out looking for them before it’s too bloody late, not sitting in a disgusting kitchen talking to you.’
He stood up and rummaged in a cupboard under the sink, pulling out an old piece of rope. Panicking, Nina leapt to her feet and tried to run but he grabbed her arm and forced her to sit again. With all her strength she pushed against him, but he slapped her face with the rope and began to wind it round her middle, tying her to the chair.
‘Sit – still,’ he said, his voice hissing in her ear.
Nina flinched. She should do as she was told for the moment. She had to stay unharmed; if he injured her she might never be able to get out of here. Trembling, she sat enduring his touch as he went on to tie both her wrists to the struts where the back of the chair met the seat, and her ankles to the chair legs. Whistling between his teeth, he produced a rag, an old tea towel by the looks of it, and used it to gag her. By the smell it had been in contact with motor oil at some point and Nina spat and jerked her head away, but he was stronger. Saliva filled her mouth and the fumes from the rag made her eyes water; dear God, nothing in her life had ever been as disgusting as this.
When she was immobilised to his satisfaction he blinked down at her, and for a second she saw regret in his eyes.
‘What I have to do is keep the police occupied with you,’ he said. ‘If they’re looking for you they won’t be worrying about what my dad supposedly did, or even about sending bags of cash to the park tonight. Meantime, I’ll get on with looking for my last important two. I have to get them, Nina.’
Whistling again, he began to search through the cupboards. Nina was finding it impossible to breath calmly. The gag tasted gross, and it was cutting into the flesh at the corners of her lips. God knows what bacteria were swimming round in her mouth. Paul must be mad. Psychotic, whatever. His search for paedophiles had a terrible kind of logic, but why was he doing this to her? Why send the blackmail letters, why the phone calls? Maybe he’d thought she’d go running away home, leaving him to continue his ‘work’ in peace. But now? Holding her in a squalid kitchen was doing nothing to further his cause.
Nina writhed against her bonds; they were much too tight. She could feel blood pulsating in her wrists; it was agony... Hell, how long was he planning to keep her here? She stared at the floor, willing herself to stay calm. Naomi, baby, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. But was it?
Paul was watching her, his expression mocking. ‘You had it all, you know. Your mam got you out, you had a good life. A proper home – a baby. And I know you might need a little persuasion to stay here and help me with this, so I’m going to fetch your baby,’ he said, his new high-pitched voice echoing round the bare kitchen. ‘Little Naomi, she’s always been able to wrap you round her little finger, hasn’t she? First I’ll go to the police and tell them we were both abducted but I managed to escape. You, unfortunately, weren’t so clever, and how would I know where they’ve taken you?’
Nina struggled to keep panic at bay. He mustn’t, he must not bring Naomi here. She moaned into the gag. What could she do now, what could she do to stop him?
Paul smiled, and Nina had to look away because oh, it was like something in a horror movie. His eyes were shining and his face didn’t belong to the man she had met just a few days ago.
‘First the police and then the hospital. The abductor had a knife, you see. A little realism’ll make sure they believe me. I need hospital treatment and that’s when I’ll go off by myself leaving them all looking for you on the Luton bypass, because that’s where we were heading when I managed to escape, isn’t it? And then I’ll go and comfort my poor little cousin Naomi, she must be so frightened without Mummy. You can stay here together. Searching for you will keep all those policemen so busy they won’t worry about what I’m doing, looking up those last two scumbags.’
He took a kitchen knife from a drawer and held it up to the light, watching it glint before stabbing it twice, viciously, into his lower arm. Nina gasped, the shock and the gag combined almost preventing her from breathing. Paul was mad. He would do anything. And shit, fuck…
Blackness swirled in front of Nina’s eyes. He was going to bring Naomi back here and she couldn’t stop him. So no way could she leave this house even if she did manage to get free. She’d have to wait in this awful place for Naomi… Dear God, what would this do to her little girl?
> Paul wound a towel round his bloody arm. ‘You know, after what happened to me when I was a kid, nothing much hurts anymore.’ He bent over her and jerked the bonds on her wrists tighter still. White hot pain seared up Nina’s arms, and tears ran down both cheeks and soaked into the gag.
The front door slammed behind Paul, and she heard a key in the lock.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The car engine spluttered into life, then roared as Paul drove off. Nina slumped in her chair, but straightened immediately as the movement caused the rope to dig even more cruelly into her ribcage. Silence fell heavily in the dimness of the kitchen, and Nina closed her eyes, fighting dizziness.
Sweat broke out on her brow as she thought about Naomi. Her little girl was in danger. It was imperative to think carefully, plan what to do. But what could she do, tied to a kitchen chair in a house ‘somewhere near Bedford’? The horror of the situation threatened to overcome her, and she forced herself to breathe normally. Passing out here would help no one.
Come on, Nina. For a second she heard Claire’s voice in her ear, and it calmed her. And she needed to be calm, because nobody was going to come to this house to look for her. She would have to get free herself and phone David. Her mobile was still in her bag in Paul’s car, the first car, but even a house as squalid as this one might have a landline.
But supposing it didn’t?
Panic gained upper hand again, and for a few minutes Nina fought against the rope binding her to the chair, swearing frantically in her head as her efforts caused nothing but pain. The binds were unmoving and eventually she gave up and sat panting into the foul-tasting gag. Dear God – she could choke and die on her own saliva here. Why, why had she followed Paul so blindly when he’d yelled that a bomb was hidden in the house – idiot that she was, she had put her life and Naomi’s into the hands of a madman.
