The Attic Room: A psychological thriller (12 page)

Nina gathered the photos together and slid them back into
their envelope. When she looked up again Emily was sitting with her eyes
closed, a thoughtful expression on her face. Nina raised her eyebrows at Sam,
feeling guilty. They had tired poor Emily out.

‘Aunt Emily, we’ll leave you in peace, thank you so much for
helping,’ said Nina, reaching for her handbag. ‘Would it be all right if I came
back another time quite soon? There are more photos, older ones, and I’m sure
the moment we’re on the road home I’ll remember lots of things I should have
asked you.’

Emily smiled. ‘I hope you will come back. And bring your
girl. You two and Paul and George are all the family I have now. Maybe you can
all come sometime.’

Nina kissed her great-aunt goodbye, feeling she had found
something very precious. And now she had found Emily she couldn’t possibly rush
back to Arran at the beginning of the week as she’d planned to. No, she would
try to get in touch with one or both of the Wrights, and come back and see
Emily with them if possible. Maybe they could take Emily out to lunch
somewhere. One or two more visits before they headed north was an absolute must
now.

They picked up Naomi, who had thoroughly enjoyed her
afternoon fence-painting, and drove back to Bedford, pulling up in front of
John Moore’s house as the church clock was striking six. Nina rummaged for her
keys.

‘I think I’ll hire a car,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll be better
able to visit Emily and do any other business while you’re away, Sam. You’ve
been wonderful about playing chauffeur, thank you so much.’

‘Good idea. There’s a garage round the corner from the
supermarket. I’ll come by tomorrow morning with the family info that I gathered
for you – there’s nothing significant you don’t know, but some of the dates
might be useful. I’m leaving for London late morning to have lunch with an old
friend, and then it’s off down to Devon after that.’

‘Lucky you. Devon’s lovely,’ said Nina, keeping her voice
light.

It was hard to know how she felt about Sam leaving. He was
the only person here who knew everything that was happening to her, and the
thought that she would be alone with the situation wasn’t appealing. And to be
honest, she enjoyed his company. He’d respected her wish to be ‘business-friends’,
and Nina wondered suddenly if she was going to regret limiting their
relationship. It was too late to change that now, though. The important thing
was to sort the John Moore situation and get back home.

‘Can we go for pizza?’ said Naomi, and Nina laughed.

‘After all you ate at lunchtime? Sam, for goodness sake don’t
tell your mother, will you?’

He grinned. ‘My lips are sealed. Ladies, I’ll love you and
leave you. I have a pile of paperwork to organise before my trip.’

‘Does he love us?’ said Naomi, as Sam drove off down the
road.

Nina shooed her in the front door. ‘You can’t love people
you’ve only known for five minutes. You scoot upstairs and get washed and as
you were so good today we’ll go to that pizzeria by the river.’

Naomi scooted, and Nina followed on slowly. You could fall
in love in five seconds, she knew that. But she hadn’t – had she?

Sunday 23rd July

To Nina’s relief Naomi was still asleep the following
morning when Sam appeared with his folder of family information. She hadn’t
mentioned her tentative plan to stay another few days, and now she could tell
him without Naomi’s eagle eyes zoning in on things that weren’t there… or were
they? Nina didn’t know herself how she felt about Sam; he was so mixed up in
the sordidness surrounding John Moore.

Sam’s grin stretched right across his face when she told him
she wasn’t ready to leave yet. ‘Brilliant! We never did go for that pizza with
Naomi, maybe we can when I get back.’

Nina couldn’t help laughing. Naomi had eaten her own pizza
last night and a slice of Nina’s too.

‘Well, if Naomi has anything to do with it we certainly
will,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Sam. Have a safe trip.’

His eyes met hers, and there it was again, that spark of
attraction. This time, however, he made no move towards her.

‘I will. And Nina – don’t worry. You’re going to get through
this. You must feel as if there’s bad stuff everywhere you look at the moment,
but we’ll get it straightened, you’ll see.’

Nina didn’t answer. He was right, but discovering that your
father had been a paedophile and your mother had lied to you about him all your
life – bad stuff didn’t get much mightier than that.

Alone again, she sat down with the address list and Sam’s
laptop. Now to see if she could find a phone number for Paul or George Wright.

There were two Pauls and seven George Wrights in
Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, and Buckinghamshire. Okay, Paul was probably going
to be easier to track down than his Dad.

Nina picked up her mobile, then stopped. Ten o’clock on
Sunday morning was maybe too early to phone. Better wait an hour or so.

She used the time to call the police for an update in the
investigation, only to be told that David Mallony was off that day but would be
in touch with her early in the week. Depressed, Nina hung up. She didn’t expect
them to get excited about John Moore himself, the man was dead, but there was
still the anonymous letter writer and threatening phone-caller, not to mention
all the possible victims, including herself. Oh well, it was Sunday.

She went upstairs and lured her daughter out of bed with the
promise of warm croissants for breakfast, then when Naomi was under the shower
she tried the first Paul Wright’s number. The voice in her ear sounded calm and
awake, and Nina’s hopes soared.

‘I’m researching my family tree and I’ve found relations
called George and Paul Wright,’ she said after giving her name. ‘My father was
John Moore – he and George Wright were cousins.’

There was a long pause before the voice answered. ‘Well, I
guess I’m your Paul Wright,’ he said. ‘So you’re little Nina who used to play
with me on Sundays? Gosh, I – I don’t know what to say – I hadn’t quite
forgotten about you, but… what a long time ago it was. I haven’t seen my father
for years, we don’t get on. But – Uncle John – is he - ?’

Nina explained about John Moore’s death. It was impossible
to tell what Paul Wright felt about her getting in touch like this. He was
polite and interested in her story, but there was no ‘wow, how fantastic’ tone
in his voice. He did ask several questions about his uncle and the house, which
he was evidently familiar with. Nina hesitated for a second before suggesting a
meeting, but Paul agreed immediately.

‘As a matter of fact I’ll be driving right past Bedford late
this afternoon, on the way home from friends. Shall I stop by then?’

Nina agreed to a visit between five and six o’clock, and
punched the air as she put the phone down. She had found another relation, and
even if Paul didn’t get on with his father, he should be able to give her a
phone number for George Wright. And according to Emily, they were all the
family left. So she’d done it – she had found everyone who could possibly help
her reconstruct the years she and Claire spent with John Moore. The feeling of
relief surprised her in its intensity, and she went to splash cold water on her
face. It was going to be all right. Her programme for the week now was to talk
to the Wrights, especially George, who would remember more than Paul, visit
Emily a couple of times, and see Sam when he returned, after which she’d be
free at last to take Naomi back to Arran. Would it be ‘Goodbye Sam’ forever?
Nina didn’t know any more.

She and Naomi spent the afternoon at a craft workshop near
Biddenham where children could make their own candles from beeswax, something
Naomi could do despite her sprained wrist. By quarter to five they were home
again, and Naomi ran to email her friends with the candle-making news. Nina
went through to the living room, rubbing her stomach, which was churning nervously.
Wow, oh wow. Soon now she would meet another relative, the second in two days,
and this one was her own generation. It was exciting, in spite of the bad
stuff. Hope flared inside her – how amazing it would be if she liked Paul as
much as she liked Emily.

She sat arranging the last of the black and white photos
into ‘people’ and ‘no people’ piles while she waited. Hallelujah, that was the
photos organised. Maybe Paul would be able to identify some of the family on
these, and she would take a new selection to show Emily on Tuesday too.

A thought struck Nina and she frowned. With Naomi there, she
wouldn’t be able to go into the paedophilia problem with Emily. But then – did
Emily actually need to know? It was such a terrible thing… Why spoil the last years
of an elderly lady’s life? Nina stared blindly at the last photo, remembering
the yearning look on Emily’s kind, wrinkled face when they left. An old woman,
watching her new-found family leave. A lump rose in Nina’s throat. She had
found both a father she had no wish to have, and a great-aunt she would love.
How very – surreal it felt.

The doorbell rang at ten past five, and Nina hurried along
the hallway. The man on the doorstep was oddly like the little boy on the
photographs. Paul Wright was slightly built and only a few centimetres taller
than she was, with deep brown eyes and a shock of jet-black hair falling over
his forehead. His smile was shy and appealing.

‘Nina. How amazing after all these years. You used to steal
my jelly babies, you know.’

Nina smiled and shook hands. ‘Well, you’re one up on me if
you remember. I have no recollection of you at all, but I’m really glad to see
you now. It’s such an odd feeling, finding relatives I didn’t even know
existed.’

He followed her into the hallway, staring round with a
wistful expression on his face.

‘This place hasn’t changed much,’ he said. ‘We used to visit
at weekends, Sunday lunch and all that. I was gutted when you and your mum
left. I remember crying into my pillow, and having a tantrum one Sunday because
there was no Nina to play with after lunch.’

‘Oh – I’m sorry.’ Nina was touched.

He patted her arm. ‘It was hardly your fault.’

Nina led him into the living room, and he wandered round the
periphery of the room, stopping to look out of both windows before settling
down on the sofa and looking at her.

‘I can understand why your mum left, you know. I was scared
of Uncle John. He used to shout at me when I dropped my peas on his floor. Peas
are hard to keep on your fork when you’re little, and somehow it always was
peas back then. My own dad was no better. He used to clout me around the ears
if I made a mess at the table.’

He pulled a face at her, grinning, and Nina managed to grin
back, but really, it wasn’t funny, was it?

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said. The more she heard
about John Moore the more she despised him. But thank God, she could feel a
rapport with Paul. It was the same feeling she’d had with Emily, but this time
she’d be able to ask what – if – he knew about John Moore’s paedophilic
activity.

‘It was a long time ago. We can congratulate ourselves on
being much nicer people than our fathers,’ he said.

Nina nodded. Other than accept it, there was nothing they
could do about the past. ‘You’re right,’ she said, realising the pun too late.

He rolled his eyes and she laughed.

‘Sorry. What I’m trying to do here is find out about the
family I didn’t know I had. There are loads of photos, can I ask you to have a
look at a few? In return I’ll bring you a glass of wine – or a coffee, if you’d
prefer that.’

‘Sounds good. I’ll have a glass of wine and we can toast
each other,’ he said, sitting down at the table and reaching for a pile of ‘people’
photos.

Nina went through to the kitchen and opened a bottle of
white wine. She was shaking crisps into a bowl when Naomi appeared from the
study.

‘Come and meet your second cousin, once removed,’ said Nina,
as Naomi took a coke from the fridge. ‘We’re going through some of the old
photos and I want to ask him about some family stuff, too, but if there’s
anything on TV you want to watch we’ll go through to the study.’ She
deliberately made things sound as boring as she could.

‘Can I shoot bubbles?’ said Naomi.

Nina agreed, glad they had Sam’s laptop. Naomi would sit in
front of it till she was prised away. She introduced her daughter to Paul, who
didn’t really know how to converse with ten-year-old girls, then helped Naomi
log into her game. Oh – here were the two photos they’d found first, the woman
with the small boy – Paul – and the one with the cat in front of the shabby
house.

‘Mum and me and – oh! That’s Mitzi!’ he said, smiling
broadly when she showed him the second photo. ‘She loved sunning herself on the
wall there. Mum used to get mad because I let her sleep in my bed; it was like
cuddling a real live teddy bear. Can I have this one?’

‘Sure,’ said Nina. ‘Was that where you lived?’

‘We moved there when I was about nine,’ said Paul. ‘It was a
pretty crappy building as you see. My dad’s business went bust; he used to buy
and sell cars but he was a real swindler and it caught up with him eventually
and he had to sell the house. He was arrested for fraud but they couldn’t prove
anything so there were no charges. Then he turned his talents to any kind of
dodgy business he could find, and Mum and I broke right off with him. He’s
twisted, somehow; he manipulates people to get what he wants. But it never
works out. He’s never made his fortune again and he’s very bitter about it. Or
he was, last time I saw him. That was about two years ago. He spends quite a
lot of time abroad nowadays.’

Nina pulled a face, disappointment heavy in her gut. George
Wright sounded almost as forgettable as John Moore. No way did she want to
contact a man like that, so maybe meeting new relatives was going to end right
here with Paul. But at least he was a normal human being, and she had Emily
too.

Keeping her voice low, Nina told him about the paedophilia
on John Moore’s computer, the threatening phone call and the letters.

Paul’s face was appalled. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ he
whispered, leaning towards her on the sofa. ‘Mum always called Uncle John a
dirty old man, and I know my dad collects porn too. You must be gutted.’

Tears shot into Nina’s eyes. At last, at last, here was
someone who really could understand what she was going through. ‘I think the
worst part is feeling so alone with it all,’ she said, struggling to keep her
voice steady. ‘I’m so glad to have found you and Emily, though I haven’t told
her about the pornography, or the blackmail.’

Paul was frowning. ‘You know blackmail’s the kind of thing
my Dad would do,’ he said, his face grim. ‘Threatening people is right up his
street; he wouldn’t care that you’re his own flesh and blood. And after he lost
the money he really had it in for Uncle John. You should be careful, Nina. He’s
dangerous because he has no feeling for right and wrong.’

Nina felt her cheeks blanch. ‘I should tell that to the
police,’ she said. How horrible, her father’s own cousin could be the
blackmailer.

‘Don’t worry, they know all about him. And you said he was
on your address list too? I should think the police are already checking him
out. The problem is, nothing ever happens to people like him and Uncle John,
does it? They’re much too good at hiding their tracks and they get way with
stuff time and again.’ His voice couldn’t have been more bitter.

Nina sipped her wine, thinking. It was true that criminals
like her father and his cousin weren’t always prosecuted successfully, but
there was something wrong with Paul’s reasoning.

‘But Paul, whoever wrote the blackmail letter talked about
screaming his head off and suffering; it was from one of John Moore’s victims.
Your father is about the same age as mine, isn’t he? So George couldn’t have
been a victim.’

‘Oh, my Dad’s clever,’ said Paul dryly. ‘Pretending to be
some unfortunate ex-victim in order to get money out of John would be all in a
day’s work to him.’

Good point, thought Nina, they had no idea how accurate the
letter was. Paul sat there looking as if he was going to say more, and Nina waited.
In the end, though, he changed the subject.

‘Let’s have a look at the newest photos.’

Nina showed him the pile of colour photos, and he sat down
to examine them, refusing her offer of something more substantial to eat,
saying he had to get back to his girlfriend in Newport Pagnell. He was able to
identify both his parents and grandparents in some of the photos before he had
to leave, and promised to have a think about the past and get back in touch in
a day or two.

At the door he hugged her briefly. ‘Nina. It makes me sick
to think you’re going through all this and it might be my dad behind it. If you
need anything, or if you just want to talk, give me a call. You’re not alone
anymore.’

Nina hugged back, closing her eyes tightly. Emily was a gem,
and now she had Paul, who wasn’t exactly your strongman protector type, but he
was nearby and he understood, and that was enough to help her deal with the
knowledge that her father and his cousin were criminals. Low-life. Not the kind
of people you could be proud of.