… and the long, dark attic room on the…

‘Shit!’ she whispered, horrified, and buried her face in her hands. She hadn’t been up to the top floor yet. How had she known about the room there?

‘Nina? What’s wrong?’ Sam was bending over her, his hand on her back.

Nina could hear the panic in her own voice. ‘There’s one big room on the top floor of this house, with a wooden floor and a sloping roof and rafters. It’s dim and spidery and scary, and Sam, I haven’t been up there yet, how do I know that?’

He rubbed her arm and Nina fought to regain control. If nothing else, the sudden memory showed that she and John Moore were in some way connected. She must have been in this house as a very young child. It was the only explanation –and that was how she’d known about the dustbin too. She took a shaky breath. Now that the first shock had gone, she could see that it was logical – John Moore was a relation, so naturally she would have been here to visit. Maybe she’d even played up in the attic. Rainy day games or whatever.

‘Let’s go and look,’ she said.

Nina’s heart was beating uncomfortably fast as she ran upstairs, Sam close behind her. She pushed the attic door open and clicked the light switch, staring round. Another short flight of eight stairs led up to the room proper, and it was exactly as she’d described it – one long space under the roof. Boxes were piled up on one side of the dusty wooden floor, and a pile of old mattresses lay near the windows facing the river. A single lightbulb hanging from the middle rafter was throwing shadows into the corners, and the windows were small and dirty, keeping more light out than they allowed in. Nina went over to the window overlooking the river and ran a finger along the window ledge. The dust was thick.

And something up here was spooking her out well and truly; she could feel the hairs rising on her arms.

Sam sneezed. ‘I think we can assume for the moment that we won’t find anything useful here.’

‘There might be photos back there,’ said Nina, staring at the crates and boxes stacked against the wall. But even if there was, what help would they be? What she needed was a family tree showing how she and John Moore were related. In spite of the warm weather the room felt clammy, and Nina shivered. The atmosphere up here was almost choking her. Or was it the dust?

Sam was already running downstairs, and Nina hurried after him. Dear God, this huge old place. The logical thing would be to sell it, but whether or not she’d find a buyer for a house in this state was anyone’s guess. All she could hope was that Sam could deal with the business side of things for her, because no way did she want to be stuck here all summer doing stuff with John Moore’s house and belongings. And they still hadn’t found anything to connect her with her benefactor.

‘My bet’s on a safe,’ said Sam, going back into John Moore’s bedroom. ‘Let’s check all the walls, and the rest of the furniture on this floor. But Nina, whatever the relationship is, you are definitely John Moore’s heir, and one way or another we’ll find out how the two of you are connected next week.’

Nina’s heart sank. Home soon was sounding less and less likely. ‘What I can’t understand is why my mother didn’t tell me about him.’

‘Maybe it’s a very distant relationship. Or maybe she didn’t like him – and she couldn’t have known about the inheritance. There are any number of reasons.’

Nina sighed. It was true, anything was possible. Half an hour’s work revealed nothing new, however, and Sam left, saying he was playing squash that afternoon.

At the front door he turned and touched her shoulder. ‘I’d like to take you out for dinner tonight, how about it? There’s a great pizza place in Bedford, if you’re into Italian food.

For a split second Nina hesitated. Why was he asking? No way did she want any kind of romantic involvement; her emotions were all tied up with grieving for Claire and helping Naomi deal with her grief too. On the other hand, she had to eat, and she could make her feelings clear if the need arose. And Sam was fun; they had a good rapport.

‘I love Italian food,’ she said at last. ‘And dinner would be great, if you’re sure you haven’t had enough of me for one day. But one thing, Sam – it’s on me. You’ve been so much help, I’d like to repay you a little.’

He saluted and accepted, leaving Nina hopeful that he had no ulterior motive for asking her out. Or maybe ‘hopeful’ wasn’t quite the right word… she wanted another relationship someday, didn’t she? She wanted to find a ‘significant other’? Someday yes, she thought, heading back to the kitchen. But ‘someday’ was neither today nor tomorrow.

Chapter Five

Saturday 15th July

Alone again, Nina wandered through the ground floor rooms, picturing her relative here. It was so odd – John Moore could have got in touch any time, but he’d waited until it was too late for them to meet. Or did he think he’d have a week or two longer? Nina shivered. How horrible, and shit, she had forgotten to ask Sam about the funeral. Oh, well, it would be a nice cheerful topic if they ran out of things to say tonight, she thought, then shook herself. Now she was getting morbid. This wasn’t how she’d have chosen to come into a fortune, but it had happened and whatever his reasons were, John Moore had obviously wanted her to have it. With his millions about to become her own she could indulge in an afternoon’s retail therapy with a perfectly clear conscience. Her wardrobe could do with a few additions.

Head high, she locked the front door behind her and headed for the town centre. On the way she passed the Post Office, and on an impulse went in to inquire about John Moore’s post. The assistant went to check.

‘Yes, the hospice didn’t accept Mr Moore’s post after his death, we’ve been holding everything here,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give it out to you today.’

‘Can I arrange to have it delivered to his home address on Monday?’ said Nina, thinking quickly. By the looks of things she’d be here till the middle of the week at least, and she could make fresh arrangements after that.

Lunch at a salad bar and a two-hour shopping spree cheered her up considerably. Her situation right this minute, though undeniably unusual, was actually all good news. She had inherited enough to make financial problems things of the past. She would put some of the money into the B&B – they could build the extension they’d been talking about for ages and double their business next year. And how amazing it was to go shopping and not worry too much about prices… oh yes, she could get used to this…

On the way back she called in at the supermarket and bought two bags of provisions, including a bottle of wine. A few little treats would make all the difference to living in John Moore’s house. Her house.

She arrived ‘home’ and walked into the dimness of the hallway, determinedly thinking cheerful thoughts. She would phone Naomi in a bit, and get the day’s news. Right this minute her daughter would be bouncing around on her pony, having a ball. Happy thought for the day. Now, the grey silk top she’d bought to wear tonight was gorgeous but shop-creased, but she’d spotted John Moore’s iron in the tall kitchen cupboard that morning. Hopefully it worked, or she’d be heading straight back into town…

Whistling to fill the silence, Nina opened the cupboard and reached for the elderly steam iron on a shelf near the back, noticing for the first time the tin beside it, a small flat tin that had once contained shortbread. She gave it a little shake and knew immediately that one search might be over, anyway – that sounded like papers in there… Fingers shaking, she prised the lid off.

Inside was a thick wad of banknotes and a smaller bundle of papers, and bingo, John Moore’s birth certificate was there, as well as a couple of bank cards and an old cheque book, and his passport. Nina unfolded the birth certificate and peered at the old-fashioned – was it copperplate? – writing. None of the names meant anything to her, except John Moore’s. His father had been John Moore too. Wishing with all her heart she knew more about the Moore family, Nina opened the passport at the photo page and felt the kitchen reel around her.