‘Can I shoot bubbles?’ said Naomi.
Nina agreed, glad they had Sam’s laptop. Naomi would sit in front of it till she was prised away. She introduced her daughter to Paul, who didn’t really know how to converse with ten-year-old girls, then helped Naomi log into her game. Oh – here were the two photos they’d found first, the woman with the small boy – Paul – and the one with the cat in front of the shabby house.
‘Mum and me and – oh! That’s Mitzi!’ he said, smiling broadly when she showed him the second photo. ‘She loved sunning herself on the wall there. Mum used to get mad because I let her sleep in my bed; it was like cuddling a real live teddy bear. Can I have this one?’
‘Sure,’ said Nina. ‘Was that where you lived?’
‘We moved there when I was about nine,’ said Paul. ‘It was a pretty crappy building as you see. My dad’s business went bust; he used to buy and sell cars but he was a real swindler and it caught up with him eventually and he had to sell the house. He was arrested for fraud but they couldn’t prove anything so there were no charges. Then he turned his talents to any kind of dodgy business he could find, and Mum and I broke right off with him. He’s twisted, somehow; he manipulates people to get what he wants. But it never works out. He’s never made his fortune again and he’s very bitter about it. Or he was, last time I saw him. That was about two years ago. He spends quite a lot of time abroad nowadays.’
Nina pulled a face, disappointment heavy in her gut. George Wright sounded almost as forgettable as John Moore. No way did she want to contact a man like that, so maybe meeting new relatives was going to end right here with Paul. But at least he was a normal human being, and she had Emily too.
Keeping her voice low, Nina told him about the paedophilia on John Moore’s computer, the threatening phone call and the letters.
Paul’s face was appalled. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ he whispered, leaning towards her on the sofa. ‘Mum always called Uncle John a dirty old man, and I know my dad collects porn too. You must be gutted.’
Tears shot into Nina’s eyes. At last, at last, here was someone who really could understand what she was going through. ‘I think the worst part is feeling so alone with it all,’ she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. ‘I’m so glad to have found you and Emily, though I haven’t told her about the pornography, or the blackmail.’
Paul was frowning. ‘You know blackmail’s the kind of thing my Dad would do,’ he said, his face grim. ‘Threatening people is right up his street; he wouldn’t care that you’re his own flesh and blood. And after he lost the money he really had it in for Uncle John. You should be careful, Nina. He’s dangerous because he has no feeling for right and wrong.’
Nina felt her cheeks blanch. ‘I should tell that to the police,’ she said. How horrible, her father’s own cousin could be the blackmailer.
‘Don’t worry, they know all about him. And you said he was on your address list too? I should think the police are already checking him out. The problem is, nothing ever happens to people like him and Uncle John, does it? They’re much too good at hiding their tracks and they get way with stuff time and again.’ His voice couldn’t have been more bitter.
Nina sipped her wine, thinking. It was true that criminals like her father and his cousin weren’t always prosecuted successfully, but there was something wrong with Paul’s reasoning.
‘But Paul, whoever wrote the blackmail letter talked about screaming his head off and suffering; it was from one of John Moore’s victims. Your father is about the same age as mine, isn’t he? So George couldn’t have been a victim.’
‘Oh, my Dad’s clever,’ said Paul dryly. ‘Pretending to be some unfortunate ex-victim in order to get money out of John would be all in a day’s work to him.’
Good point, thought Nina, they had no idea how accurate the letter was. Paul sat there looking as if he was going to say more, and Nina waited. In the end, though, he changed the subject.
‘Let’s have a look at the newest photos.’
Nina showed him the pile of colour photos, and he sat down to examine them, refusing her offer of something more substantial to eat, saying he had to get back to his girlfriend in Newport Pagnell. He was able to identify both his parents and grandparents in some of the photos before he had to leave, and promised to have a think about the past and get back in touch in a day or two.
At the door he hugged her briefly. ‘Nina. It makes me sick to think you’re going through all this and it might be my dad behind it. If you need anything, or if you just want to talk, give me a call. You’re not alone anymore.’
Nina hugged back, closing her eyes tightly. Emily was a gem, and now she had Paul, who wasn’t exactly your strongman protector type, but he was nearby and he understood, and that was enough to help her deal with the knowledge that her father and his cousin were criminals. Low-life. Not the kind of people you could be proud of.
She waved goodbye as Paul drove off, then turned back inside, a picture of the farmhouse, the B&B sign waving in the wind, sliding into her head. She could be proud of what Claire and Grandma Lily and Grandpa Bill had achieved, and she would make damn well sure that her own daughter could look back one day and be proud of her too.
Chapter Sixteen
Claire’s Story – Bedford
‘What the fuck are you doing here, Claire?’
The voice came from behind and Claire swung round on her bench by the river, dismay obliterating her brief moment of peace. Robert was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring.
Claire swallowed panic. Dear Lord, coming here had been a huge mistake. She’d found herself with an unexpected day to fill, as the London friend she was visiting this week had been obliged to go into work to deal with a staffing emergency instead of hitting Oxford Street with Claire. A shopping trip alone, especially when you were only window-shopping, had limited appeal, and quite spontaneously Claire hopped on a train to Bedford. She walked through town and along by the river to see her old home. How odd it felt, wandering along the pleasant river pathway, looking at the expensive houses on the other side of the road. For a long moment she stood staring at her old home, resentment flooding through her. According to the phone book Robert still lived there, so he must be doing well for himself, even after giving her all that money. It was so bittersweet – she would never regret her marriage, because of Nina, but the thought that he was financially so much better off than she was made her blood boil. She sat down on the bench to recover, not thinking for a minute that Robert might be at home at two o’clock on a Thursday to notice her, but here he was. And what in the world was she supposed to say now?
She stared at him, eyebrows raised and a carefully polite expression on her face. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to sound calm. ‘I’m not here to see you, don’t worry. I’m visiting Carol this week, and I thought I’d have a look round Bedford again while I have the chance. I’ll be gone before you know it.’
He snorted, then to her dismay he lowered himself into the far corner of her bench. ‘Come to see the house you could have lived in, huh? Bad decision, Claire. As usual.’
He was as unbearable as ever. Thank God she hadn’t tried to re-establish contact between him and Nina. Claire stood up. ‘It was. And I’m not staying here for you to hurl insults at me.’
He accompanied her across the grass towards the pavement and the quickest way back to town, and Claire’s stomach churned in spite of her brave words. But there were people about; she needn’t feel threatened. She would walk away from him and go for a coffee before catching her train back to London.
‘How’s Nina?’ His voice was neutral, and she replied in the same tone.