Free The Attic Room: A psychological thriller by Linda Huber Page B

front door and
stood leafing through it. The death announcement should be in today, yes, here
it was. ‘Peacefully, at St Michael’s Hospice on Wednesday, 12th July… John
Robert Moore… Relatives and friends are respectfully requested to contact the
family in Bedford about funeral arrangements.’
    Unconventional, but it was what they needed in the
circumstances. It would be interesting to see what kind of response they had.
Mind you, unless people were very quick off the mark with their questions all
she’d be able to tell them was that the cremation had already taken place. It
was to be that morning, and Nina wasn’t going to attend. She would think up
some other remembering-family ritual for her and Naomi to do together,
something special for Claire, Grandma Lily and Grandpa Bill that didn’t quite
leave out John Moore. She wasn’t going to make this into something more
important than it was; it would be insincere to pretend that John Moore had
meant something to her. But – oh God, if he was her father...
    ‘What’s for breakfast?’ Naomi was standing in the doorway,
dressed in jeans and a rather grubby pullover.
    Nina smiled. Supermum was allowed to use bribery, wasn’t
she? ‘Just toast, but we’ll go into town later and have lunch – you can choose
a place. The sales are on, we might find you something nice to wear.’
    The landline rang while Nina was spooning coffee into the
machine, and Naomi ran to answer it.
    ‘Mum! It’s that lawyer!’ she yelled, and Nina raised her
eyes heavenwards. Tact wasn’t Naomi’s strong point.
    Sam was chuckling when she lifted the phone. ‘I’ve been
called many things, but ‘that lawyer’ isn’t one of them. Is she okay?’
    ‘She’s fine, but she’s spitting nails about her missed trek.
Is there any news?’
    ‘No. I called to say I’ll phone the crematorium this morning
and organise about the ashes. Do you want them scattered in the garden of
remembrance there?’
    ‘Yes. Thanks.’ Nina felt guilty. Should she be doing more
with John Moore’s ashes? If he did turn out to be her father, and if the
accusations made in the anonymous letter were false, she might regret leaving everything
to Sam. But then, if John Moore had cared what happened to his ashes he would
have left instructions.
    ‘I’ll come by late afternoon to let you know what they say.’
    Surprised, Nina agreed, and sat nursing another cup of
coffee while Naomi finished her third piece of toast then ran upstairs to
reorganise her things in John Moore’s chest of drawers. Nina mulled over her
coffee. It was hard to see why Sam wasn’t just planning to phone and tell her
what he’d arranged for the ashes. She couldn’t shake off the feeling he wanted
more contact than she did. Oh yes, she liked him, and she knew that if life had
been less messy and distressing she might well have felt differently about his
dinner invitations. But a death in the family – or two deaths, as John Moore
was family too – plus a grieving daughter, plus a big mess here – it was all
too much. She needed Naomi and she needed to find peace before she could think
about anything else – and she needed Sam to respect that.
    The phone in the study shrilled out again and she jumped up
to answer it, limping on her left leg, which had gone to sleep on the hard
kitchen chair. Why was everyone calling on the landline today? Oh, her mobile
was switched off. She hadn’t wanted anything to disturb her and Naomi the night
before. Nina switched it back on and lifted the house phone.
    ‘Hello?’
    A stranger’s voice answered, and Nina’s knees began to shake
as she listened to the high-pitched, distorted voice. She held on to the desk
with her free hand, feeling her breath catch in her throat.
    ‘Nina, Nina. It’s you now, you have the money, but it’s not
your money, is it, Nina? You did nothing to earn it. I did all the earning and
all the suffering, and I want payment for that and I’ll get it, too. Mind