The Attic Room: A psychological thriller (7 page)

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.

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.