‘She’s fine. At Brownie camp in Dunbar this week.’
‘Good.’ They reached the road and Claire was turning away when a thought struck her.
‘I left a lot of stuff here, Robert. I suppose you still have it?’
He snorted. ‘That junk. It’s all in a couple of boxes in the attic. If you want it, come in and get it.’
Claire thought quickly, unwilling to prolong the meeting. She’d left things like shoes and clothes that didn’t matter now, but there were some ornaments and trinkets as well. Would it be stupid of her to go inside with him? She glanced at the front room windows. One was wide open, and people would hear her if she screamed.
‘I will, thank you,’ she said, managing to sound calm. ‘You can bring them down to the study, please.’
Rather to her surprise he said nothing, and she followed him inside and waited while he ran upstairs. The study hadn’t changed since the day and hour she left this place; how very depressing it was. His Dad’s old desk and bookshelves. And the secretaire Emily had given her when she downsized to Biddenham. Claire gazed round in distaste. This house had never felt like home and her ties with Bedford had been broken long ago. Thank God.
Robert returned with two large boxes which he dumped on the floor, forcing her to crouch down, and Claire was glad she was wearing trousers. Ignoring the way he was standing there watching her, arms folded, she rummaged through the non-clothes box and found a fair-sized collection of memorabilia of her marriage. The blue vases she’d found in Portobello Road Market, goodness, she’d forgotten about them. And she’d take the Capo di Monte rose, it matched Lily’s – and Nina would love the costume jewellery. Beads and bangles were important nowadays; at ten, Nina was discovering the world of fashion.
‘You can throw out the clothes, but I’ll take the rest with me, except the blue vases,’ she said at last. ‘They’re too big. I’m going on to the theatre tonight.’
Quickly, she packed her possessions into the fold-up shopping bag she kept in her handbag. ‘I’ll come back sometime for the vases, Robert, don’t throw them away. And the secretaire’s mine too, strictly speaking. I’ll let you know. How is Emily – and Jane and Paul?’ She stared at the secretaire. It was a pity she’d lost contact with Emily. But contact with Emily might have led to contact with Robert, and Claire hadn’t wanted that back then and neither had he. Ah well. No point stirring things up now.
He followed her to the front door. ‘They’re all fine. Send for the rest if you want it. Don’t bother coming back, Claire.’
Claire shot him one more look as he stood at the door, arms still crossed in front of him, staring after her. She strode off into the afternoon, hands shaking, forcing herself not to turn round. What a fool she’d been, coming here, but at least she’d got some things back. And she had stood up to Robert – that alone was enough to make her feel stronger. Almost. A cup of coffee settled her nerves, and she sat in the café looking through her long-lost treasures. Maybe she would go back in person for the vases someday, just to spite Robert.
Smiling at the thought, Claire checked her watch. It was time to start back to the station.
Goodbye, Bedford, she thought as her train sped south. I wonder if I’ll ever see you again.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday 24th July
The second weirdo phone call came the following morning.
Nina was stepping out of the shower when the old-fashioned ring tone trilled upstairs from the study. Cursing, she pulled one of John Moore’s scrubby bath towels round her and ran, almost tripping down the stairs in her rush to get to the phone. It would be a wonder if she made it and a double wonder if Naomi didn’t waken with all this crashing about, but there was something very insistent about the brr-brr sounds emanating from John Moore’s shiny blue eighties telephone. It was impossible to ignore.
‘Hello?’ She perched on the edge of the desk, thankful for the net curtains at the window. Clad in an ancient orange bath towel with her hair pinned roughly on top of her head, she wasn’t quite ready to face the world.
There was an odd little snigger at the other end, and a sick, churning feeling wormed through Nina’s gut. For a second she considered hanging up but remembered in time that the phone was bugged now and the police would be listening in. She wasn’t alone here, she wasn’t alone. All she had to do was keep him on the line.
The same sing-song, high-pitched voice muttered into her ear.
‘Nina, Nina. You pay for my pain or your daughter will suffer. Get your money organised. You’ll hear from me again.’
The line went dead, and Nina slammed the receiver down before crouching on the floor, panting. She had never felt so outraged, so helpless. This disgusting person had threatened Naomi. Dear God, what should she do?
Get the first plane north. Home, home. The thought ran over and over in her head as she ran to make sure the front door was locked, then rushed round checking the ground floor windows and the back door were secure too. There was nothing for her here in Bedford. The business stuff could be finished from Scotland; she could easily keep in touch with Paul by email and phone, and Emily… yes, there was Emily. But even finding an absolute jewel of an aunt had no significance in comparison to Naomi’s safety. This caller – was it George Wright? – had made a definite threat now.
Loneliness crept through Nina as she realised there was no one she could call for moral support. Cruel to phone Beth, who would be in the middle of preparing heaven knows how many different breakfasts. Sam was miles away and couldn’t help with this anyway. She would have to let Paul know that the blackmailer and anonymous caller, who might well be his own father, had struck again, but – dear God, would Paul really want to know? He would only be hurt and ashamed. Hot tears stung Nina’s eyes and she rubbed her face impatiently. This was no time to go soft. Phone the police, woman, see what they have to say.
David Mallony was terse on the phone. ‘It’s as if he knew the phone was bugged. The call was from a landline but that’s all we know. Nina, I think you ought to go to a hotel. You and Naomi shouldn’t be alone in that house after such a direct threat.’
Miserably, Nina agreed. All she wanted was to sit on the bench outside the farmhouse and watch the waves shiver up the beach below, but she needed at least another day here. She had to talk properly to the police, and she wanted to see Paul again and ask him more about their families in the days when she and Claire lived here. He might know something that would explain why Claire had spread the myth about her husband’s death. And there must be something – a huge, enormous something – that they didn’t know yet, because Claire wouldn’t have told that lie lightly.
Nina stood in the study, tapping her fingers on the desktop. What on earth was she supposed to do with Naomi while she was talking to David Mallony and Paul? Her daughter would be one large question mark if she realised there was more going on than she knew about.
Sam’s parents slid into Nina’s head as she trailed back upstairs to dress. Maybe she should take Cassie up on that offer to babysit. With Naomi at the Harrison’s, she’d have time to sort things out with David, talk to Paul, and get packed. Afterwards she and Naomi could find a hotel near Emily so they could both visit before flying north again.
Naomi was awake, and Nina explained the babysitting idea. It was a good job the Harrisons had a dog, she thought, amused when this was the first thing Naomi thought of.
‘You get dressed, and I’ll phone and ask,’ said Nina, heading for the stairs.
Heavens, all this and she hadn’t even had a coffee yet. And actually she should call Paul first, while Naomi was safely under the shower.