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Huber Linda - The Attic Room: A psychological thriller The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

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оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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‘So Paul and I are what – second cousins?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Emily, as Sam came back into the room. ‘Your fathers were first cousins, so you and Paul are second cousins. You and George Wright are first cousins once removed. One generation apart. Though nowadays people tend to say ‘cousin’ for any kind of relationship.’

‘I see,’ said Nina, impressed. ‘I’ve never understood all that ‘once removed’ stuff. Thanks, Aunt Emily. Look, Sam, isn’t this helpful?’

Emily looked flushed and pleased, and Nina leaned across and squeezed the old woman’s hand. Here at last was a member of the Moore family she would love. How tragic; she could have loved Emily all those years, if Claire hadn’t lied… Oh God – why hadn’t Claire kept in touch with Emily at least?

Sam was examining the family tree. ‘Excellent!’ he said. ‘You can put in Naomi, too.’

Nina wrote Naomi’s name under her own. ‘My daughter,’ she said to Emily. ‘She’s ten. I’ll bring her to see you another time. Could you have a look at some photos and see if you recognise anyone?’

With the help of her powerful magnifying glass Emily was able to identify quite a few people on Nina’s selection of photos. As well as John Moore and Claire there was George Wright and his wife Jane, as well as Paul, the little boy who was on several photos, and a few friends and neighbours from the time when Nina and Paul had been young children. Nina sat wishing she’d brought some of the older, black and white photos as well. She showed Emily the address list, but apart from telling them about a few people who were dead Emily was little help with this. Most of the people on the list must have been friends of John Moore, and Emily hadn’t known them. But it was a start.

Nina gathered the photos together and slid them back into their envelope. When she looked up again Emily was sitting with her eyes closed, a thoughtful expression on her face. Nina raised her eyebrows at Sam, feeling guilty. They had tired poor Emily out.

‘Aunt Emily, we’ll leave you in peace, thank you so much for helping,’ said Nina, reaching for her handbag. ‘Would it be all right if I came back another time quite soon? There are more photos, older ones, and I’m sure the moment we’re on the road home I’ll remember lots of things I should have asked you.’

Emily smiled. ‘I hope you will come back. And bring your girl. You two and Paul and George are all the family I have now. Maybe you can all come sometime.’

Nina kissed her great-aunt goodbye, feeling she had found something very precious. And now she had found Emily she couldn’t possibly rush back to Arran at the beginning of the week as she’d planned to. No, she would try to get in touch with one or both of the Wrights, and come back and see Emily with them if possible. Maybe they could take Emily out to lunch somewhere. One or two more visits before they headed north was an absolute must now.

They picked up Naomi, who had thoroughly enjoyed her afternoon fence-painting, and drove back to Bedford, pulling up in front of John Moore’s house as the church clock was striking six. Nina rummaged for her keys.

‘I think I’ll hire a car,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll be better able to visit Emily and do any other business while you’re away, Sam. You’ve been wonderful about playing chauffeur, thank you so much.’

‘Good idea. There’s a garage round the corner from the supermarket. I’ll come by tomorrow morning with the family info that I gathered for you – there’s nothing significant you don’t know, but some of the dates might be useful. I’m leaving for London late morning to have lunch with an old friend, and then it’s off down to Devon after that.’

‘Lucky you. Devon’s lovely,’ said Nina, keeping her voice light.

It was hard to know how she felt about Sam leaving. He was the only person here who knew everything that was happening to her, and the thought that she would be alone with the situation wasn’t appealing. And to be honest, she enjoyed his company. He’d respected her wish to be ‘business-friends’, and Nina wondered suddenly if she was going to regret limiting their relationship. It was too late to change that now, though. The important thing was to sort the John Moore situation and get back home.

‘Can we go for pizza?’ said Naomi, and Nina laughed.

‘After all you ate at lunchtime? Sam, for goodness sake don’t tell your mother, will you?’

He grinned. ‘My lips are sealed. Ladies, I’ll love you and leave you. I have a pile of paperwork to organise before my trip.’

‘Does he love us?’ said Naomi, as Sam drove off down the road.

Nina shooed her in the front door. ‘You can’t love people you’ve only known for five minutes. You scoot upstairs and get washed and as you were so good today we’ll go to that pizzeria by the river.’

Naomi scooted, and Nina followed on slowly. You could fall in love in five seconds, she knew that. But she hadn’t – had she?

Chapter Fifteen

Sunday 23rd July

To Nina’s relief Naomi was still asleep the following morning when Sam appeared with his folder of family information. She hadn’t mentioned her tentative plan to stay another few days, and now she could tell him without Naomi’s eagle eyes zoning in on things that weren’t there… or were they? Nina didn’t know herself how she felt about Sam; he was so mixed up in the sordidness surrounding John Moore.

Sam’s grin stretched right across his face when she told him she wasn’t ready to leave yet. ‘Brilliant! We never did go for that pizza with Naomi, maybe we can when I get back.’

Nina couldn’t help laughing. Naomi had eaten her own pizza last night and a slice of Nina’s too.

‘Well, if Naomi has anything to do with it we certainly will,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Sam. Have a safe trip.’

His eyes met hers, and there it was again, that spark of attraction. This time, however, he made no move towards her.

‘I will. And Nina – don’t worry. You’re going to get through this. You must feel as if there’s bad stuff everywhere you look at the moment, but we’ll get it straightened, you’ll see.’

Nina didn’t answer. He was right, but discovering that your father had been a paedophile and your mother had lied to you about him all your life – bad stuff didn’t get much mightier than that.

Alone again, she sat down with the address list and Sam’s laptop. Now to see if she could find a phone number for Paul or George Wright.

There were two Pauls and seven George Wrights in Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, and Buckinghamshire. Okay, Paul was probably going to be easier to track down than his Dad.

Nina picked up her mobile, then stopped. Ten o’clock on Sunday morning was maybe too early to phone. Better wait an hour or so.

She used the time to call the police for an update in the investigation, only to be told that David Mallony was off that day but would be in touch with her early in the week. Depressed, Nina hung up. She didn’t expect them to get excited about John Moore himself, the man was dead, but there was still the anonymous letter writer and threatening phone-caller, not to mention all the possible victims, including herself. Oh well, it was Sunday.

She went upstairs and lured her daughter out of bed with the promise of warm croissants for breakfast, then when Naomi was under the shower she tried the first Paul Wright’s number. The voice in her ear sounded calm and awake, and Nina’s hopes soared.

‘I’m researching my family tree and I’ve found relations called George and Paul Wright,’ she said after giving her name. ‘My father was John Moore – he and George Wright were cousins.’

There was a long pause before the voice answered. ‘Well, I guess I’m your Paul Wright,’ he said. ‘So you’re little Nina who used to play with me on Sundays? Gosh, I – I don’t know what to say – I hadn’t quite forgotten about you, but… what a long time ago it was. I haven’t seen my father for years, we don’t get on. But – Uncle John – is he - ?’