The Attic Room: A psychological thriller (18 page)

The front door slammed behind Paul, and she heard a key in
the lock.

The car engine spluttered into life, then roared as Paul
drove off. Nina slumped in her chair, but straightened immediately as the
movement caused the rope to dig even more cruelly into her ribcage. Silence
fell heavily in the dimness of the kitchen, and Nina closed her eyes, fighting
dizziness.

Sweat broke out on her brow as she thought about Naomi. Her
little girl was in danger. It was imperative to think carefully, plan what to
do. But what could she do, tied to a kitchen chair in a house ‘somewhere near
Bedford’? The horror of the situation threatened to overcome her, and she
forced herself to breathe normally. Passing out here would help no one.

Come on, Nina
. For a second she
heard Claire’s voice in her ear, and it calmed her. And she needed to be calm,
because nobody was going to come to this house to look for her. She would have
to get free herself and phone David. Her mobile was still in her bag in Paul’s
car, the first car, but even a house as squalid as this one might have a
landline.

But supposing it didn’t?

Panic gained upper hand again, and for a few minutes Nina
fought against the rope binding her to the chair, swearing frantically in her
head as her efforts caused nothing but pain. The binds were unmoving and
eventually she gave up and sat panting into the foul-tasting gag. Dear God –
she could choke and die on her own saliva here. Why, why had she followed Paul
so blindly when he’d yelled that a bomb was hidden in the house – idiot that
she was, she had put her life and Naomi’s into the hands of a madman.

Right. It had happened and she had to do something; she
couldn’t sit here till Paul came back with Naomi. She had to get out, get help,
get away. If she didn’t she could lose everything, including Naomi, for God
knows what Paul was capable of. Think, Nina.

The police would believe Paul when he went to them with his
story. To them, he was a victim, not a violent psychopath. Unless – of course!
The sudden hope was almost painful in its intensity, and Nina gasped aloud.
John Moore’s landline was bugged. Paul’s call to lure Sabine to the phone would
be traceable, so the police would know that he was mixed up in this even if
Sabine was unable to tell them.

The moment of relief was short-lived as she realised that
someone who was capable of successfully finding and blackmailing paedophiles
would have thought of this and used an anonymous, prepaid phone. Nina gave way
to the storm of sobs that shook her bruised body against the binds and the hard
kitchen chair. Please God Cassie wouldn’t leave Naomi alone with Paul. Please
God he wouldn’t hurt her girl.

The storm abated, and Nina gathered her strength for a new
bid for freedom. She could
not
stay here on this
chair in near darkness. Grubby windows only made the dimness more apparent, and
Paul had switched the light off when he left. The yellow glow from a
streetlight in the lane behind the house was only illuminating the area of
kitchen nearest to the window.

If she could find the knife that Paul stabbed himself with
and somehow jam it in somewhere, she could maybe rub the bonds on her arms
against the blade. It was worth a try, anyway.

By jerking one side of her body she was able to move the
chair a few millimetres. The friction of the rope on her wrists was agonizing
after a mere handful of jerks, but there was no other way.

Frustration filled Nina’s mind as the chair turned oh, so
slowly until she was facing the sink and the drawer where Paul had found the
knife. She would have to cross three metres of disgusting floor to reach it.
Time after time she jerked her body forward, and gradually the chair moved. The
tiles were old, old lino, and some were loose, which didn’t make her journey
any easier. After every five jerks she awarded herself two quiet, steady
breaths. The little routine helped her carry on. It was five lashes of the
whip, followed by two recovery strokes, again, and again, and again.

Tears of desperation and pain were trickling down Nina’s
face long before she got to her destination. Blood from her wrists ran down her
hands, warm and sticky, and the mixture of tears and saliva soaking into the
foul-tasting gag made it more obnoxious by the second.

One last jerk brought her to the drawer. She could see the
glint of metal; there would be a knife in there.

There was. Several painful moments of pushing and shoving
with her right arm opened the drawer enough to reveal an unsavoury collection
of cutlery, including a couple of sharp knives. The problem was she couldn’t
get at them. There was no way she could lift anything out with her elbow, and
she wasn’t able to bend her head far enough to get into the drawer with her
nose and chin. For long, demoralising minutes she tried, thinking, shit, this
has to work, I’ve come all the way from the table and it was so bloody painful,
I
deserve
it to work. But it was hopeless. In a fit
of rage, she pushed against the sink unit with all the strength in her right
arm.

The chair creaked and moved, then the backrest parted
company with the seat and Nina fell. Her head hit something cold and hard, and
briefly she saw stars.

Winded, she lay still, then hope surged through her… if she
wriggled a bit she could free her right wrist… yes… one good pull – yes! Her
right hand was free.

Barely taking time to catch her breath, Nina pushed up into
a half-sitting position, yanked her left hand free and tugged the gag from her
mouth before sliding over to the drawer for a knife to cut the rope from her
feet.

She was free. Thank Christ. Nina leaned on the sticky sink
unit taking deep breaths of revolting air. Both wrists were bleeding, but the
wounds were superficial. Her ankles were okay, her jeans and socks had saved
them from the worst of the chaffing. She couldn’t move, though – her feet had
gone to sleep and were tingling back to life. It hurt almost as much as the
bonds had.

Come
on
, Nina, she thought savagely. You can be a
wimp later. You have to call the police.

A quick check through the downstairs rooms revealed no phone
and Nina moaned aloud. The only other option was to go to a neighbour for help,
but would they help her if she did? What kind of people lived round here?

Loneliness swept through her as she realised that she couldn’t
risk it. But Paul had driven past a row of shops on the way here. She would
find them, get someone there to call the police for her, and then come back in
case he returned with Naomi.

Nina ran to the front door and jerked it open, stopping dead
on the threshold as the sound of rough voices yelling obscenities came from her
left. Shit, kids were fighting round the corner. She could hear thuds and
screams and the sound of glass breaking. She would go right, then, as fast as
she could. No sooner had she made this decision than a crowd of youths appeared
from the right too, and Nina slid back into the house and closed the door. It
sounded like hell out there. Maybe, if she was lucky, the police would come to
break up the fight.

More youths were careering down the street now, and Nina
went to look out the back, but yobs were racing along the lane there too. She
stood at the front room window – the fight itself was out of sight, but there
was a lot of running about and shouting, and the occasional tinkle of glass
breaking. Surely someone must have phoned the police, even here. The arrival of
a police car would be the answer to her prayers.

The fight continued, more and more kids joining in. And
still no police – wait – there was a car coming… Nina’s hopes rose, then
plummeted.

Hot frustration filled her as she watched Paul park in front
of the house and stride up the path, a plastic bag in one hand. He was accosted
by a tall youth, who ran up screaming something, and to Nina’s horror her
cousin pulled out a gun. The youth backed away, hands raised in the best Wild
West fashion, and ran off down the road.

Nina leaned against the living room doorway as Paul entered
the house. She would show him she wasn’t afraid. But she was afraid, she was
terrified she wouldn’t get out of here alive. But at least Paul was alone; he
hadn’t got Naomi yet.

‘Aren’t you the clever one, all untied and making yourself
at home.’ He waved the gun at her. ‘Good job I have this, that’s a nice little
war going on out there.’

He had a large bandage on his left arm, clearly a
professional job. Nina felt sick with dread. Had he managed to get hold of
Naomi after all – was her daughter locked up somewhere else? Horror chilled its
way into her very soul. There was no point in asking; he could tell her
anything and she wouldn’t know if it was the truth or not. But she had to show
she wasn’t beaten.

‘Paul – we need to get out of this situation. Let’s work out
what I can do to help you.’

His eyes were bright. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. You
and Naomi – especially Naomi – will be the perfect bait for my poor innocent
victims.’

Nina’s mouth went dry. He gestured with the gun in the
direction of the kitchen.

‘What do you mean?’

He gave her a little push towards the kitchen and she walked
in front of him, only just managing to breathe normally. But panic would help
no one. He grabbed her shoulder from behind and forced her down on the one
remaining chair.

‘We could get them easily, Nina. Nice pic of Naomi on the
right websites and they’ll be queuing up to get her.’

‘I hope you’re joking,’ said Nina, determinedly calm. He
laughed, and she slumped in the chair. It was no use; he was playing with her.
All that effort had been for nothing – she had failed. Dear God, would she ever
see her little girl again? She offered no resistance as he lifted the rope from
the floor and bound her hands in front of her. When he was satisfied she wouldn’t
be able to use them he grunted, and Nina smelled both beer and curry on his
breath. She let her own breath out slowly. No way could she be sick here.

‘Well, the police are busy searching for you a long, long
way away,’ he said, taking a can of beer from his bag. ‘And your boyfriend’s
with them. Seems a pity really, all that effort for nothing. But they’re all
very concerned about you. I’ve told them everything I know and I’ve been sent
home to rest; they won’t be looking for me till nine tomorrow when I have to go
and make a statement. But I’ll pop round and get Naomi first. That old couple
won’t be able to stop me. Nice little dog they have, but it isn’t what you’d
call a Rottweiler, is it?’

Nina’s mouth went dry. He’d found out where the Harrisons
lived and gone to have a look at the place. She spat the words at him before
she could think. ‘Leave Naomi alone. You don’t need to involve her in this.’

He ignored this. ‘As soon as she’s safely here I’ll get her
pic on the web, along with one of me when I was a nice little kid too, and go
on with my search. Shit, Nina, I wish you’d stayed away from Bedford and left
me in peace to do this.’

How she wished that too, but Nina said nothing more. He didn’t
have Naomi yet. There was still time to escape.

‘Right. Upstairs,’ he said roughly, pulling her to her feet.

Nina’s gut went into a painful spasm. Was this when he raped
her?

He manhandled her up the stairs and into the largest room. A
stained and smelly double mattress was the only piece of furniture, and Nina
was hard put not to moan. Paul kicked his shoes off. He made no attempt to touch
her inappropriately, though he stood outside the disgusting toilet while she
used it, then made her lie beside him on the mattress and bound her left foot
to his right. Nina couldn’t stop the shudders as she lay there, Paul’s leg warm
against her own.

‘Sweet dreams!’ he said mockingly, and placed the gun inside
his trousers.

Claire’s story – Glasgow

Claire stood in the doorway, her eyes roving the six-bedded
bay. The smell and the atmosphere here were almost identical to those in
another hospital almost twenty years ago, and for a second the past shimmered
in front of her. It was noisier here, with visitors round nearly every bed and
children running up and down the corridor. The event she’d been anticipating
for months had happened.

Nina was lying on top of a bed by the window, eyes closed.
Beside the bed was one of those see-through hospital baby cribs, and in it lay
Claire’s brand-new granddaughter.

For a moment Claire stood motionless, emotion making it
difficult to breath. This was the next generation of her family. In spite of
her fears time was passing and life was going on, and in a sudden flash of
understanding she realised she had no control, she had never had control, that
things happened and would continue to happen in their own momentum. Worrying
made no difference.

Her eyes fixed on the baby, she crept over to the crib. Nina
didn’t waken, but the baby’s eyes were open. She looked exactly as Nina had the
day after she was born. Claire pulled up a blue hospital chair, and for a long
moment she and the baby held each other’s gaze. Claire could feel the smile on
her face spread to become joy in her heart.

But how angry she’d been when Nina told her she was
pregnant. Still a teenager, not even finished her course yet, unmarried, though
that didn’t count for anything these days. Claire couldn’t understand how the
girl had been so foolhardy. It wasn’t as if they’d never discussed
birth-control.

Nina brought up her pregnancy quite casually over coffee one
Friday when she was back on Arran to celebrate Bethany’s birthday. Claire was
completely gobsmacked – this kind of thing happened to other people’s kids, not
her sensible, hard-working daughter.

‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded, and Nina raised
her eyebrows.

‘I’m going to have a baby, what do you think I’m going to
do?’ she replied defiantly. ‘Okay, it wasn’t planned but we’ll manage, Mum.
When my course is finished I’ll get a job and find day care. Alan’ll help, too.
We’re looking for a flat.’

Claire liked Alan, but he wasn’t much older than Nina and
was in the middle of a degree in business studies. It was a chaotic situation
if ever she’d seen one. She watched helplessly as her daughter moved into
student digs with Alan, only to move out again four months later and heavily
pregnant. So there wasn’t going to be a happy end with wedding cake and
confetti.

Nina stirred on the bed and opened her eyes. Another lump
came into Claire’s throat. All the joy in the world was right there on Nina’s
face, and Claire knew she should show her own delight. For shame, she chided
herself. Misery-guts. Try to be happy for once in your life.

‘Hello love,’ she said, leaning forward to grasp Nina’s
hand. ‘And congratulations, she’s just gorgeous.’ Her voice trembled, and she
could see happy tears in Nina’s eyes too.

‘Thanks, Mum. Do you want to hold her?’

A few moments later Claire was sitting with her
granddaughter in her arms. How well she remembered the time when Nina was tiny;
Lily had come to London and they’d had a positive orgy of baby-worship. Those
were the days of effortless happiness, and how very much she wanted to feel
like that again, for this new little girl.

Claire came to a decision. She would let the past go,
because she had to. The past was unchangeable, and the future was
uncontrollable. She would live today and be happy. Misery-guts adieu, Claire.

Decision made, Claire smiled across at Nina. The family had
grown, there were three generations again. Claire kissed the baby’s head.
Whichever way you looked at it, she was rich as a king today.