The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

by Linda Huber

  Sam’s parents slid into Nina’s head as she trailed back upstairs to dress. Maybe she should take Cassie up on that offer to babysit. With Naomi at the Harrison’s, she’d have time to sort things out with David, talk to Paul, and get packed. Afterwards she and Naomi could find a hotel near Emily so they could both visit before flying north again.

  Naomi was awake, and Nina explained the babysitting idea. It was a good job the Harrisons had a dog, she thought, amused when this was the first thing Naomi thought of.

  ‘You get dressed, and I’ll phone and ask,’ said Nina, heading for the stairs.

  Heavens, all this and she hadn’t even had a coffee yet. And actually she should call Paul first, while Naomi was safely under the shower.

  His voice on the phone was deeper than in real life, and he sounded delighted to hear from her. ‘Nina! I’ve been remembering some of the things we got up to as kids, and I’ve found a couple more old snaps, too – we must get together and – Nina?’

  Impossible to keep her own voice steady while she told him about the second call. She could feel his concern through the phone.

  ‘Oh God, you must wish you’d never come anywhere near here. I think it’s a great idea to find someone to take care of Naomi. Or – tell you what, I can come and stay in the house with you tonight, save you going to a hotel. I can easily stop work early today.’

  ‘Oh – I couldn’t ask you to do that, Paul. Thanks anyway. If the Harrisons can help we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Nina, it’s not a problem. Think of everything we went through as kids. Our fathers weren’t into helping family and my mother wasn’t much better. Now we have the chance to do better. And I’d love to have another look at those photos.’

  He was right, thought Nina. If Beth or Tim had made the offer she knew she wouldn’t have hesitated. And what had Emily said – little Nina used to think Paul was wonderful when they were small? It would be good to have the chance to get to know him better.

  ‘Okay – thanks. Could you maybe come by in the afternoon? We could talk about everything then, and take it from there.’

  Paul agreed to come at four, and Nina rang off, glad about her decision. It made a real difference to have someone there in the background, a family member, too, to lend a hand.

  She booted up the laptop and went into the telephone directory to find the Harrisons’ number. For a second she hesitated – what should she tell Cassie? Simply that she had a lot of dry and dusty business stuff going on and Naomi was bored out of her skull seemed the best way. Which, when you thought about it, was the exact truth – from Naomi’s point of view at least.

  ‘Nina, of course! It must be awkward for you. Why don’t you let her stay here overnight? That would give you more time.’

  Nina heaved a sigh of relief. A sleepover with a dog wouldn’t be a hard sell, and then her mind would be at rest about her girl. ‘Thanks, Cassie, I’ll bring Naomi later this morning if that’s okay. I’ll have to talk to her about spending the night but I’m sure she’ll agree. It’s a load off my mind to have someone take care of her.’

  It was shortly after eleven when Nina pulled up outside the Harrison’s house. The hired car was a larger vehicle than she was used to driving, and it took her three goes to get into the tight space at the side of the road.

  She made a face at Naomi. ‘How to look seriously un-cool in one easy lesson,’ she said, and Naomi giggled.

  ‘Chill, Mom. I think you’re real cool,’ she said, with a phoney American accent.

  Nina looked at her girl, grinning at her from the passenger seat, her hair scraped into a high pony tail. How very much she loved Naomi. If anything happened to her little girl because of all this John Moore stuff… it would be unbearable. Impossible to live with herself if even a hair on Naomi’s head was harmed. Damn the anonymous caller to hell.

  Cassie and Glen came out to greet them.

  ‘Can I really stay the night?’ said Naomi, as Cassie hugged her. ‘And where’s Kira?’

  ‘Of course you can. Your room’s all ready, and Kira’s waiting for you in the kitchen,’ said Cassie. ‘We’ll take her for a walk later on, but first Glen could do with another pair of hands to finish the fence, couldn’t you, love?’

  Nina carried Naomi’s bag inside, her heart warming. Cassie and Glen were obviously delighted with their young visitor, and Naomi, who knew nothing about the second threatening call, was equally enthusiastic. Nina grinned as she watched her daughter struggle into a pair of Glen-sized overalls. It was plain Naomi could hardly wait to get her hands on a paint brush.

  Cassie walked back to the car with her. ‘Nina, are you quite sure you don’t want to stay here tonight too? There’s plenty of space. I don’t like to think of you rattling around in your father’s house all by yourself.’

  Nina was touched – there were good people in the world. She should remember that in the midst of all this. ‘Don’t worry, Cassie. My cousin’s coming and he’ll probably stay over. There’s a lot I have to go through with him before Naomi and I head north. I’ll phone this evening and let you know what’s going on. And thank you more than I can say for taking Naomi like this. It makes all the difference.’

  Cassie gave her a brief hug. ‘I’ll leave you to phone Sam, will I, and let him know what’s happening.’

  Nina smiled as she drove off. Cassie was doing a bit of match-making there – and what did she think about that?

  David Mallony ushered her into his office and was approving when he heard about Naomi’s new home.

  ‘Good. We don’t know what the blackmailer’s planning,’ he said. ‘If he phones again, try to keep the line open for as long as you can. Talk to him. That’d give us more time to pinpoint the call.’

  ‘Do you think he knows the police are involved?’

  ‘Oh yes, but he’ll think he can make you comply now without telling us. I have a feeling it’ll be a letter next time, with a demand for money, and I think it’ll come by post in the morning. He won’t want to risk being seen near the house. So it would be better if you stay on until tomorrow at least.’

  Nina sat staring at the glass paperweight on David’s desk. What he said sounded logical, and it was reassuring to know the blackmailer was unlikely to appear on the doorstep. She turned back to David Mallony. Now for the difficult question.

  ‘What have you found out about – John Moore?’

  ‘There was a large number of pornographic images involving children on his computer. We’re investigating to see if that was as far as it went. I can’t tell you any more at the moment, Nina.’

  In a way Nina was relieved. Maybe it was easier if she didn’t know the ins and outs of what her father had done. A thought struck her – why on earth hadn’t he disposed of the laptop? He’d got rid of bags full of shredded paper. What was on the shredded paper that wasn’t on the laptop?

  ‘Contact details for other paedophiles, I imagine.’ David Mallony sounded depressed when she asked him. ‘Leave it to us, Nina; you don’t need to know the details.’

  Nina was glad to accept this. She told David Mallony about meeting Emily Moore and Paul, and he listened, an interested expression on his face.

  ‘Good for you. But you know, it’s not at all certain this blackmailer is George Wright. He does have a record, but he’s been pretty quiet for the last six or seven years. We’re keeping an open mind there.’

  Back at the house, Nina started to organise her belongings for a possible departure the next day, then went to look at the photos on the table. Paul wanted to see them again; she would leave them here in the meantime. The ‘people’ snaps were laid out in groups, with the ‘non-people’ ones in a pile at the side.

  She picked up a photo of herself as a young child with Claire and John Moore. It was so frustrating that she remembered so little. She had a hazy memory of the house, more a sense of familiarity than an actual memory. There was the horrible feeling that John Moore might have been abusive in some way. But maybe she only felt that beca
use she know about the pornography on his computer… and because Claire must have had a powerful reason for that enormous, long-term lie. Was this what Claire had been trying to say, moments before she lost consciousness? Nina swallowed.

  What had her mother known?

  Nina’s mobile buzzed at half past three while she was packing Naomi’s remaining things. And after she’d left this house – which might even be today, if Paul couldn’t stop overnight with her – she would never stay here again. And oh, the relief was incredible – she literally felt lighter.

  Sam’s voice was upbeat. ‘Hi, Nina. I’m between meetings. How’s things?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Nina cautiously. ‘I was about to phone you. I guess you haven’t spoken to your parents today?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  In as few words as possible, she told him what was going on. Sam was horrified.

  ‘But Nina, of course you have to go to Mum’s! You don’t know this weirdo isn’t going to come to the house. It’s much too risky!’

  ‘I won’t stay here unless Paul can stay with me,’ said Nina, trying to sound reassuring. ‘And I’ll make sure all the doors and windows are locked, don’t worry. David Mallony doesn’t think the blackmailer will come here, anyway.’

  Sam, however, was not to be reassured. ‘David can’t possibly know that for sure. And for heaven’s sake, you don’t know Paul Wright, and his being related to your father and George Wright is hardly a recommendation, is it?’

  Startled, Nina thought of Paul’s gentle brown eyes and the way his hair fell over his forehead. Maybe she didn’t know him, but he was family – he’d been part of her life all those years ago. They connected.

  ‘Sam, I’m related to John Moore and George Wright in the same way as Paul is. Sometimes you just have to trust people. Two weeks ago I didn’t know you existed either.’

  It was the wrong thing to say. Sam’s voice was tight when he replied.

  ‘Well, I can say the same about you, but I think I’d trust you over a stranger with a criminal family background. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same way. I thought we were friends.’

  His last sentence sounded nothing but petulant. Nina gripped her phone, biting back an angry retort. She had neither time nor energy for this right now. She forced herself to sound calm.

  ‘Sam, I don’t need any more hassle here. Paul’s due any minute so I’m going to hang up. I’ll let you know what happens.’

  She put the phone down and stared at it. Had she been too hard on poor Sam? No, she was in charge of her own life and it was up to her what she did and where she stayed. Though in a way Sam was right too, because even if Paul was her cousin, she had no idea how trustworthy he was. Sam came with the recommendation of being a lawyer, but Paul had no such testimonial. It was always tempting to judge people by your own standards, she thought, running upstairs to check that the lock on her bedroom door worked. It did, and the door was solid oak.

  Nina smiled suddenly – locking her bedroom door wouldn’t be unnecessary. Paul felt like family in the same way Emily did. Maybe she could persuade him to come with her and Naomi to visit Emily tomorrow. Somehow she didn’t think Paul saw much of their great-aunt, and it would be interesting to know why not. Of course, maybe he simply wasn’t into visiting family, but you’d think a sense of duty would prompt the odd visit. Or was that more of a girl-thing?

  Paul appeared at twenty past four, clutching a well-used sports bag and a bottle of wine.

  ‘All ready to stay, as you see,’ he said, grinning at her, and Nina relaxed.

  It was all right. This was her cousin – well, second cousin or whatever, and he was going out of his way to help her.

  She accepted the bottle. ‘Cabernet Sauvignon. One of my favourites. How did you know?’

  He looked pleased. ‘It’s one of mine too. Must be a family trait.’

  ‘Is your girlfriend – Melanie, isn’t it? – okay about you staying here tonight?’ she asked, and he nodded.

  ‘She’s going out with friends anyway. I brought a sleeping bag so if you give me a mattress somewhere I’ll be fine.’

  Nina showed him into the little room beside the kitchen and he dropped his bag on the bed.

  ‘What would you like to eat?’ she asked, watching him roll out his sleeping bag. ‘We don’t do gourmet meals in this house but I could make spaghetti, or we can send out for pizza.’

  ‘Let’s send out,’ he said. ‘Pizza’s easier to eat when you’re looking at photos and things. Can I have a look round the house, please? I was here a lot as a kid but I haven’t seen it properly for years.’

  Nina gave him a guided tour. He showed her which bedroom had been hers as a child, and told her about the time the two of them unravelled all Nina’s children’s cassettes and tied the upstairs doors together with the mess of tape.

  ‘It was no ice cream for us that day,’ he said, grinning. ‘Our mums were not amused.’

  Nina laughed. This was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to hear, little stories about her life. She stood in the doorway of her old bedroom, which now contained an anonymous single bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. What wouldn’t she give for a clear memory of those days, but nothing was coming to mind. Disappointed, she turned back to Paul, now gazing into the room she and Naomi were occupying.

  ‘Those blue vases were your mum’s, you know. She bought blue ones for herself and green ones for my mum. It must have been just shortly before you left.’

  Nina hugged her arms round her middle, staring at the vases. How amazing – the only beautiful things in John Moore’s house, almost, and they were Claire’s. A little part of Claire still here in Bedford. She would take them home when they left.

  In the attic room, Paul walked down to the far end where the mattresses lay, then turned and stared back towards the door, the expression on his face unreadable. He was breathing heavily, Nina noticed – what was going through his mind? She was still wondering what to say when he came out of his trance and grinned at her.

  ‘I think you should do this place up to rent out. You could easily have it turned into flats, and the way the market is at the moment that might be a better investment than selling.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nina. ‘Nothing’s decided yet.’

  No way was she going to keep this house, she thought, following Paul downstairs. She wanted to be able to draw a very definite line under John Moore and his sleaze.

  Paul settled down with the photos while Nina phoned for pizza and opened the wine. When she went back to the living room he was engrossed in the ‘non-people’ pile, not even reacting when she made a remark about the small size of most of these photos. Nina put his wine glass down beside him and went to phone Cassie to say she’d be quite all right tonight. It would be her last night under her father’s roof. And thank God for that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The pizzas were good, a Mediterranean veggie topping on a thin, crisp base, and Nina made a green salad to go with them. Working in John Moore’s kitchen was a bit like camping, she thought ruefully, having searched in vain for a salad bowl. Judging by the appliances and the meagre selection of kitchen utensils, her father’s cooking had consisted of heating things in the microwave and opening tins. Of course maybe he’d eaten out most of the time – he’d certainly been able to afford it. What an odd set-up this was. John Moore was so well-off, yet he’d chosen to live in this place, which was solid and warm but – dowdy. Yes, that was a good word to describe the house. But when you thought about his collection of paedophilic pictures it all became sick and sordid, too. So maybe the dowdiness hadn’t mattered to John Robert Moore.

  She and Paul ate in the living room, each ensconced in a corner of the sofa as the table was covered with photos. Nina was silent, pity almost closing her throat as Paul spoke of his mother’s struggle to make ends meet. It didn’t make for a cheerful mealtime conversation.

  His childhood had been nothing like her own. After the split with his father, P
aul’s mother gave up the fight to provide for her child, and lived on social security. Alcohol had played a big part in Jane Wright’s life, too. So while Nina was watching her mother and grandparents struggle to start their business on Arran, Paul was watching his mother drink herself into her grave. How dreadful for him.

  ‘What happened to you then?’ she asked gently, but he looked away, shaking his head.

  ‘Nothing worth remembering today. I survived, thanks to social services, and here we both are, back in John Moore’s house as adults. You can survive anything, you know.’

  He took a large swallow of wine. Nina frowned. It was difficult to see what he meant by ‘survive’ and it didn’t look as if he was about to enlarge on it. Poor Paul. She had always been loved and cared for, but it sounded as if no one had loved Paul after his mother died.

  He wiped his fingers on the paper napkin provided by the pizza company. ‘Almost forgot,’ he said, going over to the table. ‘I found your father’s parents here. Look.’

  He lifted three black and white prints, and Nina took them eagerly. John Moore senior, her grandfather, and his young wife Sylvia. They must have been in their twenties here, standing side by side beside a bandstand, presumably in some park or other, uncertain smiles for the camera and uncomfortable, formal-looking clothes. Perhaps they’d been out for a Sunday walk – people had worn ‘Sunday best’ in those days. Nina stared, trying in vain to read their expressions and feeling the enormous distance separating them from her life today. What had John and Sylvia Moore done to turn their son into such a monster? Or maybe it wasn’t their fault, maybe young John had gone off the rails by himself. You couldn’t blame parents for everything. Paul handed her another photo showing a trio of people in various shades of grey.

  ‘My parents with Aunt Emily,’ he said.

  Nina took the photos. Black and white pictures of days gone by. She searched round for a pen and paper. ‘Let’s number them, and write down who’s on which photo.’