The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda - Страница 37
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‘I thought we were going to your place?’
‘We are. This is a short cut to the best road there,’ said Paul, his eyes fixed on the traffic, and Nina gave up. He must be as stressed by the developments as she was. She turned back to the window. They were still in Bedford, driving past old houses now, each much closer to its neighbour than was usual nowadays.
Neighbours… The police must have warned everyone in the street, but she hadn’t seen any neighbours when she and Paul sped away from the house. But if people were told ‘there’s a bomb in the house next door’, they wouldn’t spend too much time gathering stuff together before leaving the building, would they? And – there were still no sirens to be heard, no police cars rushing to the scene, no fire engines… And had the police warned everyone by phone? Was that standard procedure?
She glanced at Paul. His face was pale, but there was a determined set to his chin that hadn’t been there before. He caught her eye and his jaw tightened. Nina felt her gut spasm. Something wasn’t right. Shit. What was Paul doing? She turned again to see out the back window – still no sign of police activity. Her stomach cramped as a new, horrifying thought entered her head.
David Mallony wouldn’t have called on the house phone. The police had radios to contact each other, and even if these hadn’t been working for some reason, Sabine had a mobile. Paul had lied about that phone call. Sweat broke out on Nina’s forehead – what the hell was going on here?
The car slowed down to swing round a corner, then headed east of town. They weren’t going to Newport Pagnell, so much was clear.
‘Paul, what’s going on?’ she managed, her voice shaking.
This man was her relation, she had trusted him, more than that; she’d been glad to find him in the horrible mess of her father’s paedophilia and her mother’s lie. She’d thought of Paul as a victim, like she was. Now she didn’t know what to think.
He blinked across at her, and she saw both pity and determination on his face.
‘I’m sorry, Nina. This wasn’t what I wanted, but you left me no choice.’
‘What do you mean? Paul, talk to me!’
He didn’t answer. Nina balled her hands. This was her cousin and she’d trusted him… and now he was taking her somewhere and she didn’t want to go.
‘I want to get out, Paul. Stop the car, please.’
He gave her a little smile. ‘Nina, Nina, it’s all right. Don’t worry. We’ll get things sorted.’
Nina felt panic rising within her. She grabbed Paul’s arm. ‘Stop! Let me out!’
He shoved her away and the car swerved across the road, narrowly missing a lamp post as it mounted the central island and then thumped back down on the road. A van going in the opposite direction blasted its horn. Nina shrank back in her seat, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. Hell, she couldn’t make him stop the car, and starting a physical fight over the handbrake would be suicide.
They were driving round a run-down district now, and terraced houses lined identical streets. Few people were about. Nina swallowed. She was tensing herself to jump out and run for it at the next corner when Paul pulled up behind a solitary car parked at the roadside, and grabbed her forearm.
Nina could see determination and fear in the brown eyes fixed on her own . ‘We’re going to get out of this car and into the one in front. We’ll do it quickly and very calmly, Nina. I’ve got a gun.’
Nina gaped at him, her gut cramping. Sam had been right – she didn’t know Paul. The sweet, shy man she’d been so taken with was… it was odd, he wasn’t quite gone because she could still see him in there, but he was somehow stuck behind another Paul, and this one was a stranger.
Fear made her voice shake. ‘Paul – what are you doing? Let me get back to Naomi, please!’
He scrabbled in the glove compartment with his free hand and she recoiled in fright, dizzy with relief when he produced another car key. Dear God, had she really expected him to bring out a gun? Did he have one?
‘Do as you’re told, Nina. We’ll talk later, I promise.’
He grabbed the bag of fake money from the back seat and strode round to her side of the vehicle, gripping her arm again as soon as the door was open. Nina’s legs were shaking so hard she could barely remain upright as he hurried her towards the other car. She moaned inwardly. Her handbag – with her mobile – was on the back seat of the first car. Without that she was ten times more helpless. Shit, she was being abducted and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Half a minute later they were driving away from the terraced houses.
‘Where are we going?’ Nina knew it was important to keep talking to Paul. She had read that you shouldn’t show fear when you were being bullied, and this was much more than bullying. What was he going to do to her, this man she’d thought she could trust? Bile rose in her throat.
‘Paul - ’ She started to speak, but he cut her off.
‘Keep the shit quiet, can’t you,’ he said, his voice tight. The engine screamed as he accelerated up the road.
Horrified beyond words, Nina closed her eyes. A picture came into her mind. Arran. Home. The Firth of Clyde sparkling in the sunlight, the Holy Isle dark against the blueness of the sky. Tears burned behind Nina’s eyelids. What wouldn’t she give to be back there today, as penniless as she’d been at the start of the summer. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Claire’s story – The Isle of Arran
Claire jogged along the uneven track, then slowed to a walk as she came to the pathway that sloped steeply across the field back up to the farmhouse. Morag, Beth’s mother, had laughed when she’d taken up jogging at her age after avoiding gyms like the plague all her life. Claire laughed back but kept right on jogging. She had to make sure she was as fit as possible. Fit people lived longer.
She knew it was irrational, this fear that she too would die and leave Nina helpless at the hands of the authorities. But having seen both parents die at a relatively young age, Claire’s confidence that life automatically went on until you were eighty-something was more than shaken. In spite of her best efforts to be positive, the carefree days of trust in the future had been gone for a very long time.
But – she had almost made it; Nina was eighteen next week. Her daughter was a student in far-away Glasgow now, doing secretarial studies. She was living in a hostel connected to the college, sharing a unit with three other girls, and she was having a ball. It was a heady time, first freedom… but Nina had a sensible head on her shoulders, and it was right she should enjoy herself while she was young.
Claire smiled, thinking about her girl, then frowned. As of next week Nina was an adult and wouldn’t have to go and live with Robert if Claire ‘popped her clogs’, as Lily had called it, but there was no guarantee that Robert would help Nina financially when – if – he did get in touch. Claire’s death would be followed by hurt and disappointed for Nina when she discovered that her father was alive and Claire had lied about it. Would Nina hate her for the lie? Oh God, she loved her girl so much, and no matter what she did, one day Nina would resent it. Claire couldn’t even revoke the clause about him being contacted in the event of her death because Rob had signed it too. It was a lose-lose situation and there was no way on earth that she could put it right. The only good ending would be if Robert died first – but if he did, they might never hear of it.
Claire panted into the farmhouse kitchen, where Jan, the live-in helper, was making lentil soup. As well as breakfasts, they now gave guests the option of a simple meal at night too. Business was booming.
Claire poured a glass of orange juice and took it upstairs with her. Maybe the best thing would be to write Nina a letter, one of the ‘to be opened after my death’ kind. She could explain everything and apologise for leaving her daughter in ignorance. That way at least Nina would know the truth, because Robert couldn’t be trusted to be honest. Yes, a letter was a very good idea. And it wouldn’t hurt to check if Robert was still at the same address – in fact she would call him right now while she was feeling brave. Claire searched through her handbag for her address book; she no longer knew the number by heart and the code had changed since she’d lived there anyway.
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