The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda. Страница 5

‘Oh darling. But maybe it’ll be a chance to get yourselves back on track? A fresh start in a new place? When do you move?’

Claire cast her eyes heavenwards. Lily was back on her ‘work at your marriage’ pedestal, but maybe she was right. Giving up on the relationship when she had a two-year-old daughter wasn’t something to be done lightly.

Claire was astonished when she did see the house. Where had Robert found the money to put down a deposit on a place this size? He barely gave her enough to cover the housekeeping and Nina’s clothes. She wandered round the upstairs rooms, planning in spite of herself. This largest one would be a great master bedroom, and Nina could have the one opposite, a lovely big room with a bay window. She sighed. If only she could turn the clock back to the first weeks of her marriage, those heady days of being in love. Rob was twelve years older and came across as worldly-wise and sophisticated. He’d made her feel special, and although even then he’d been a little… reticent, it had only added to the attraction. Claire squared her shoulders. In spite of their recent problems, Robert was planning a shared future in this house. She would do likewise.

‘Mummy’s,’ said Nina, holding up a handful of Jelly Tots. Claire bent and allowed her daughter to feed her the hot, sticky mess. Nina beamed, and Claire kissed her, licking the sugar from her lips afterwards. She stood up to see Robert in the doorway, hands on hips and a sneer on his face. As usual he looked immaculate, the crisp white shirt contrasting with the blackness of his hair.

‘For God’s sake, look at you. Stuffing your face as usual. No wonder your figure’s gone to pot. Where’s your self-respect – you can’t blame having the baby after all this time.’

Claire didn’t reply, because hell, he was right. Before her pregnancy she’d been a small size ten and now she struggled to get into a fourteen. She allowed herself too many little treats these days because they made her feel better, but Robert cared about her appearance. He’d loved her old skinny-as-a-rake figure, and while he’d said nothing when she was pregnant, this past year or so he’d been – rude. Distant. Putting her down, humiliating her in front of other people. It was horrible.

Robert stamped downstairs to speak to the plumber, and Claire took Nina’s hand and went up to the attic room. Wow, she thought, staring round. A huge floor space, lovely sloping ceiling, cute little windows – this would be a fantastic room for Nina in a few years. The little girl was running up and down, her face one big beam, and Claire laughed too, pretending to chase her. Nina shrieked, and Claire scooped her up and hugged her, looking round with sudden determination. The way forward was clear in her mind now.

With a lick of paint and some nice modern furniture, this house would be an amazing home for the three of them. It was time to do something about her marriage. She had a child. A happy family life was worth fighting for.

Chapter Four

Friday 14th - Saturday 15th July

A search round the first floor of the house revealed a good-sized bathroom with an electric shower, an airing cupboard with all the bed things she would need, and a couple more wooden chairs. Nina settled into the downstairs bedroom quite comfortably. The upstairs rooms, though larger, didn’t appeal to her. Apart from John Moore’s own room – and no way could she sleep there – they were poorly lit and smelled musty. Nina spread her things about the little ‘maid’s room’, then grimaced. Quarter past six, oh, golly – Naomi would be back at the farmhouse by now, chattering away to Beth about the day’s ride, or maybe having a bath to get rid of the aches and pains after four hours in the saddle… if only she were there to see the pleasure and excitement on her child’s face. Unhappiness washed over Nina. It was years since she’d been away by herself like this. She wasn’t used to her own company, that was the problem, and this wasn’t a good time to phone home, either. They’d be busy with the guests’ evening meal in the farmhouse.

Stop being a wimp, woman, she thought, grabbing her handbag. Go for dinner, you’re hungry. Things’ll look different when you have a good meal inside you.

Half an hour later she was sitting at a single table by the fireplace in an elegant Georgian dining room, a very nice salmon steak in front of her and thinking that having a solo dinner in a posh hotel was something else she wasn’t used to. The other diners were all couples or family groups, but the waitress made her feel at home and Nina arranged to have breakfast there too. For a few moments she regretted her decision to stay in John Moore’s uncomfortable house, but then – what would she do stuck in a hotel all evening? What a weird situation this was. This time last week she’d been on the laptop, helping Bethany get them started again after the break caused by Claire’s death. Little had she known then that in a week’s time she’d have inherited a fortune from a man she’d never heard of and be dining all alone in a Bedford hotel.

It was still light when she walked back to John Moore’s house, and the contrast of the pleasant river bank to the dinginess inside hit Nina like something physical as soon as she opened the front door. She shook off the feeling of depression. There was a job to be started here. To work, woman. You can do this.

At the desk she sat staring at the pile of papers Sam had found, apprehension rising in spite of the brave thoughts. God, it was creepy here… and if John Moore was her uncle it was entirely possible that she would come face to face with a photo of Robert Moore, or Claire – or, heaven forbid, her own younger self. Quickly, Nina pushed the pile away. Something about this place was giving her the jitters big-style, and faces from the past would be easier to cope with after a good – she hoped – night’s sleep. She pulled out her phone.

A long conversation with Beth reassured her that she wasn’t alone in the world, and one with Naomi made her laugh. The little girl was bubbling over about her pony ride, in tones of childlike happiness that had been missing since her grandmother’s death. It was great to hear her so bright again, though Nina knew that no-one grieved in a straight line. She herself could be almost content one minute, and then the senselessness of Claire’s death would hit her yet again. Thank God she was never further than a phone call away if Naomi needed her. Permanent accessibility had its advantages.

It was well before seven when Nina awoke the next morning. The curtains in her bedroom didn’t quite meet in the middle, and sunlight slanting through trees in next door’s garden was creating flickering shadows on the wall beside her bed. She watched them for a few seconds, then stretched luxuriously and swung her feet to the floor. Parquet, no less, though a rug for her toes would have been nice. But never mind, it was a beautiful morning and even John Moore’s dreary decor looked better when the sun was shining.

Returning to the house after breakfast, she ran up to the airing cupboard for a couple of towels for the downstairs loo. Heavens, by the looks of things John Moore hadn’t splashed out on towels since the nineteen eighties; these were all either threadbare or stiff as boards. What on earth had the man spent his money on? Nina grabbed two of the least ancient ones and was turning for the stairs again when the attic doorway caught her eye. Eight or nine steps above, it was set in the middle of a little landing, a solid, wooden door painted dingy white, a raised T-shaped panel on the lower part.

Nina stood motionless, staring at the door. That T-shape… what was it reminding her of? Something was jumping up and down just beyond memory, and she couldn’t pinpoint it. Nina shivered, and ran on downstairs. It couldn’t be anything important, an old door…