She arrived home late afternoon to find Jane asleep on the sofa and no sign of the children. Shaking the other woman, Claire saw it wasn’t as much sleep as a drunken stupor that was afflicting Jane. The men were out, if the absence of jackets in the hallway was anything to go by. Hell, she should never have left Nina – and what was Robert thinking, leaving his daughter with a drunk woman?

‘Nina! Paul!’ she called, running upstairs.

Nina’s bedroom door banged opened and the little girl stumbled out and ran towards Clare, arms outstretched. There were tear-stains on the child’s face, and Claire scooped her up and held her tightly, horrified to feel the little body tremble in her arms. What on earth was going on here?

‘Sweetheart? What’s the matter?’

‘Paul’s crying. Daddy said he was bad,’ said Nina, squeezing Claire’s arm in a painful grip and pushing her other thumb into her mouth. Claire stroked damp curls into place and kissed the hot little head.

‘Why? Did Paul hurt you?’

She knew that Paul’s exuberance was sometimes difficult for Nina to keep up with. Nina shook her head and removed her thumb long enough to reply. ‘No. Daddy was cross. He was in the attic… he hurted Paul and then he - ’ She sobbed into Claire’s neck.

Claire carried Nina into the bedroom. So Robert had been in a temper with the children – nothing new, but as far as Claire was aware he’d never struck them before. But then maybe she didn’t know everything.

Paul was sitting on the floor, his face blotchy and a wild expression on his eyes. There was an enormous red lump on his forehead and his small frame was shaking with every breath. Aghast, Claire crouched beside him, Nina in her arms.

‘What happened, Paul?’ she asked, stretching a hand out to him. ‘Did you bang your head?’

He slid away from her. ‘He – Uncle Robert said… ‘ The words seemed to stick in his throat and he stared at Claire, his eyes wide, then giggled nervously.

‘Where is he, darling? What did he say?’

Claire reached out again but Paul pressed himself against the bed.

‘He – he said I – we – were bad. He said we’re always bad and he – he – he hit – us. I ran away and I banged my head on the attic door and Uncle Robert shouted and Nina – Nina was scared.’

Claire’s arms closed round her own child. Right. She had come to the end of her tether. No matter how loud and disruptive the children had been, there was no excuse for violence. And there was every reason to leave a man who would strike his own daughter.

Nina had fallen asleep in her arms, and Claire laid her on the bed, noticing grimly how exhausted the child was. As soon as Nina awoke she would examine every inch of her skin and check for bruises. And then…

And then they would leave. Anger was fuelling her determination now and her hands were shaking almost as much as Paul’s. That was it. She was finished here and finished with Robert too.

Tomorrow, she and Nina would ‘go for a walk’ and they would take a train up north. She wasn’t helpless; she would find a job in Edinburgh, and Mum and Dad would help her. Outrage filled her mind as she considered this might not be the first time the children had suffered under Robert’s hand. Paul obviously wasn’t lying; the child was distraught.

‘Come on, Paul lovey,’ she said, tucking the duvet round Nina. ‘Let’s put some magic cream your head and then we’ll phone for a taxi to take you and Mummy home, will we? You can be all safe and warm again there.’

The child was looking at her with a closed expression on his face, but he allowed Claire to take his hand. She sighed. Paul didn’t have a regular home life, but his mother loved him when she was sober, and he had stability at school. And she certainly couldn’t take him to Edinburgh. But she could take Nina – and she would.

A lump came into Claire’s throat as she led Paul downstairs. How much in love she – they – had been, what high hopes she’d had at the beginning of her marriage. She’d known Robert for – what? – just over four years. Four years which had made her life a million times better, because now she had Nina. And Nina was more important than anyone – or anything – else.

Her mouth tight, Claire rinsed a washcloth under the tap in the downstairs toilet and wiped Jane’s face with it. She had done this many times before, but today would be the last time. This time tomorrow, both Jane and Bedford would be out of her life forever.

Chapter Eight

Tuesday 18th July

The doorbell rang when Nina was swallowing her last bite of toast on Tuesday morning and surfing the news sites on Sam’s laptop. She glanced up to see a police car parked outside and hurried to the door. Hopefully they’d found out something that would set her mind at rest about John Moore. Hearing that the anonymous letter was from a vicious conman trying to trick a sick man out of his money would be the best possible start to the day. You heard about things like that all the time and John Moore would have been an easy target, in his condition.

DI Mallony was standing on the doorstep, staring at the ivy-covered walls.

‘No real news yet, but I thought I’d stop by anyway and tell you how things are progressing,’ he said, following her into the kitchen and accepting a mug of coffee.

‘All I want to know is who I am in relation to John Moore. And it would be great to hear that the blackmail letter is a pack of lies,’ said Nina frankly.

‘I can imagine, but all I can tell you is that John Moore has no criminal record and he isn’t on the sex offenders register. And apart from your own, there are no fingerprints on the anonymous letter. If you come across another, call us straightaway. That letter wasn’t the first.’

‘Okay,’ said Nina, remembering the bags of shredded papers the cleaner had told her about. She wasn’t likely to find the letter’s predecessors. He hadn’t been kidding when he said ‘no real news’, she thought glumly. But no news was good news, wasn’t it?

She cupped her hands round the comforting warmth of her mug. ‘So what else is there to do?’

‘John Moore’s laptop’s being investigated; we should have more information about that later today,’ said David Mallony, draining his mug. ‘I’ll be in touch. Oh, and I’ve marked your paternity test ‘urgent’.’

Nina closed her eyes in relief. Thank God for technology. Old records might fail her, but the test would remove all uncertainty. And surely Claire hadn’t lied all these years…

‘I’ll be here all day,’ she said, accompanying him to the door. Things were moving along, not exactly a mile a minute, true, but they were moving. And in an odd way, the very fact that the police weren’t treating it as super-urgent was reassuring too.

And at least John Moore didn’t have a police record as long as Brighton pier. Nina grimaced. She could still hope he was a nice innocent reclusive forty-second cousin. It was frustrating being stuck in limbo like this, but on the other hand it was giving her the chance to get the house cleared. Look on the bright side, Nina. She would get those bundles for the charity shop finished now.

The doorbell rang again while she was looking for the string, which had disappeared completely since the previous day. Nina jogged up the hallway to the front door. This was turning into quite an ‘at home’ day, and she couldn’t think who this caller could be. Sam was expecting to be in court till lunchtime at least.

A worried-looking middle-aged woman was standing on the doorstep. Frowning, she peered short-sightedly into Nina’s face and then beyond her into the darkness.

‘Hello, dear, is everything all right? I live next door, we only got back last night but when I saw the police car this morning I had to come and see…’

Aha, thought Nina. This would either be a nosy busybody or a genuinely concerned neighbour, and either might be able to provide her with some useful information.