The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda - Страница 13
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‘Come in and have a coffee,’ she suggested, holding the door open.
The woman, whose name was Pat Cox, didn’t need a second invitation. Nina made fresh coffee, reflecting she’d be hyper for the rest of the day at this rate. Pat listened to her account of the past week with a horrified expression, though Nina didn’t mention the anonymous letter. She didn’t want the sordid little story to be all over Bedford by lunchtime.
Pat rubbed her face. ‘Oh my goodness. I’d no idea. I knew he wasn’t well but we didn’t think for a minute… He always kept himself to himself, Mr Moore, a nice quiet gentleman. And this past fortnight we’ve been away on holiday, Florence and Rome and then a week at Rimini, such a busy resort, dear, you should see the crowds on that beach. Oh dear. Nigel’ll be right sorry to hear this.’
A concerned neighbour, decided Nina. Good.
‘Do you know anything about John’s friends?’ she asked.
Pat looked thoughtful. ‘Like I said he kept himself to himself, your uncle. I can’t say we knew him but he was a good neighbour. He was away a lot of the time – the house was often dark in the evenings. Being next door of course we noticed that.’
Nina was silent. She had introduced herself as Nina Moore, saying that John Moore had left her the house. Pat had put two and two together and come up with what was probably the most likely solution to an outsider. There didn’t seem to be anything Nina could say without telling Pat way more than she wanted to. But it couldn’t do any harm to press for as much as the other woman knew about John Moore.
‘My mother had no contact with John for as long as I can remember,’ she said, topping up Pat’s mug. ‘Do you know if he had any other family, or good friends, even, in the area – people who came round to visit, maybe?’
Pat shook her head. ‘A young man visited quite a lot a while back. I always assumed he was a nephew or something. We noticed him because he always parked in front of our place. We haven’t seen him for a while, though. And sometimes there would be older men, too, friends, I suppose. But nothing much, like I said... Oh dear. When’s the funeral?’
‘He didn’t want one. I’m here to clear the house as much as I can this week and then it’ll be going on the market.’
Pat stood up. ‘Well, I won’t keep you. What this place needs is a team of decorators, and then a big family living in it. It would make a lovely family home and being so close to London you’ll sell it no bother.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Nina. ‘Thanks for coming by, Pat. It’s good to know that John had nice neighbours.’
How hypocritical, she thought, closing the door behind the woman. But the picture of John Moore was becoming stranger with every person she spoke to. Few visitors to the house, a cleaning lady he’d exchanged a mere handful of words with in five years, neighbours who barely knew him. The man seemed to have been a positive recluse, and really, it was hard to imagine Claire marrying someone like that. Claire had been a real people person, she’d loved having friends and family around her. But then again, if opposites did attract… Nina shrugged. There was no way to know what had happened back then. She would just have to wait for the test results. And hallelujah, here was the string.
She was bringing bundles of bedware down to the study, which had turned into a kind of half-way house for goods on their way to the charity shop, when her mobile rang. Goodness, it was Beth, what an odd time... Hell, was Naomi - ?
Nina’s heart thundered into top gear and she spoke before Beth had the chance to say hello. ‘Is Naomi all right?’
Beth’s voice was calm. ‘She’s fine, lovey, but she fell off her pony this morning and sprained her wrist, so it’s no more riding for her this week. She wants to come and join you, Nina. What will I tell her?’
Nina gripped the phone. Her baby was hurt and she was stuck at the other end of the country. Shit, why the hell had she ever come here? ‘Oh God. Has she seen a doctor? Let me speak to her?’
‘Yes, I took her to Lamlash for an X-Ray and she honestly is fine, Nina. Tim’s taken her to help him buy more canoeing stuff, but she’s upset about losing the rest of the trekking course and she wants to be with her mum. Any sign of your business finishing?’
Homesickness rattled through Nina – she wanted nothing more than to be with Naomi. If she was on Arran they could go long walks along the beach and she could help Naomi get over the hurt wrist and the disappointment. As it was…
Nina thought swiftly. She could hardly expect Beth to take care of a bored, frustrated ten-year-old and run the B&B at the same time. ‘Of course she can come here. Do you want me to find out about flights?’
‘No, I’ll do that. We’ll get her on one today, I promise. Speak soon.’
Nina broke the connection and stood still. Naomi was coming here to this dingy, depressing house, to be right in the middle of a police investigation for blackmail and possible paedophilia, and Nina couldn’t even tell her daughter what relation John Moore was to them. And yet –
I am really pleased, thought Nina, standing there grinning at the piles of sheets on the floor. Naomi was coming; that would brighten things up and give them both something fresh to think about. Should they stay here or go to the hotel? Which would Naomi prefer?
Stay here, she realised after just two seconds’ thought. Naomi would want to explore the house and help get everything packed up. Okay. They couldn’t both sleep in the downstairs bedroom, so…
She was arranging a pair of single beds in one of the upstairs rooms when Sam arrived with tuna sandwiches and two large chunks of Black Forest Gateau. Over their meal Nina told him about the morning’s events and he listened, sandwich in hand.
‘Wow, you’ve been busy. And as the police have pinched my job finding out about John’s family I’ve taken the rest of the day off. I can take you to meet Naomi if you want. I’m afraid we might be looking at a trip to Heathrow.’
He was right. Nina left Sam in a coffee bar to give herself some time alone with Naomi, and hurried through the arrivals area in Terminal 2. Thank heavens it was midweek. At least the airport was less busy than at the weekend. Which meant it was mobbed without being completely chaotic, she thought, skirting a group of irate people who appeared to have lost their relative. Bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, Nina checked the board – the plane was down. Not long now till she could hug her girl and oh, how brilliant was that?
‘Mum!’ Naomi flew towards her and flung herself into Nina’s arms. ‘Oh Mum, Mrs Anderson wouldn’t let me finish the ride though I told her my arm was okay and the doctor said it was only a sprain too.’
Nina hugged back gently, fighting back the desire to laugh at Naomi’s aggrieved expression. She took hold of the bandaged wrist and examined it.
‘Oh sweetheart. Doesn’t it hurt?’
‘Not much. They gave me pills at the hospital. It’s not fair. I was getting on so well.’
She put one arm round Nina’s waist as they walked towards the exit, cuddling up, and Nina squeezed back gently. This was a time for one hundred per cent sympathy.
‘It’s such bad luck, but I promise when your wrist’s better we’ll get you on another trek. You’ve got all summer on Arran this year so we’re bound to manage something.’
Naomi nodded, her expression still glum. Nina kissed the honey-coloured hair and hugged Naomi closer, feeling the tension in the child’s body. This wasn’t all to do with a sprained wrist and the loss of a couple of days trekking. Naomi had the death of her grandmother to contend with as well, not to mention having contact with her father reduced to Skype conversations. And a mother who’d deserted her…
The little girl sniffed disconsolately. ‘Are we going back to Bedford now?’
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