Too late.
‘Me hurt you? That’s a joke. You know, Nina, before your Mam took you away, you came upstairs one day and found me crying after your Dad and one of his filthy friends had been having it off with me while my Dad took the photos. You started to cry too, because I was crying, and then your Mam came home and found us and God help me, I couldn’t tell her what had happened. I told her your Dad had hit us both. And paedophilia didn’t even cross her mind, she was so horrified that you, her precious baby, were hurt, but you hadn’t been hurt, Nina, it was me who’d been tortured and raped. And it was you who was taken away, your Mam saved you, Nina, but nobody saved me because my Mam was pissed out her mind on the sofa.’
The anger had gone and his voice was thick with tears. Nina began to feel sick. What on earth could she say to him? Maybe he would never get over what he had gone through. What wickedness there was in the world. That’s what Emily had said, and it was true.
A faint sound came from below as the front door opened and closed. The police, thank Christ. She had to keep talking now, keep Paul’s attention on the conversation. He mustn’t realise someone else was here.
Nina opened her mouth, but before she could speak he started to howl, a nerve-shattering high moaning sound, like an animal in pain. The sounds of him scrambling to his feet and running round the attic came down the stairs, and then she heard breaking china, the thump of something heavy and solid hitting the floor, and a series of muffled thuds. Shit, shit, he was kicking something – hell – was he kicking Sam?
Before she had time to think Nina was on her feet and running up to the attic room. If Sam was unconscious and being kicked… he could die here today, and she’d never get the chance to find out what they could have together.
‘Sam!’
‘Nina! Come down here!’ It was David’s voice, along with several pairs of heavy feet thudding up the stairs.
Nina stared across the attic. Sam was motionless on the middle of the floor, face down. The policeman was nearer, eyes closed and blood seeping into the floorboards from his left shoulder. Paul was crouched on the floor by the window, howling. Nina took a few steps into the room – and then she saw the gun in his hand. She froze.
When he spoke his voice was like an old man’s, weak and shaking. ‘Nina, Nina. How stupid do you think I am? I know you’ve got police there. And you know what? I’m going to make sure they can never touch me.’
Fear burned sour in Nina’s mouth. ‘Gunman goes on killing spree in Bedford attic.’ It might be tomorrow’s headline. And Naomi – Oh God, Naomi. How would she ever recover if Nina died here in a hail of bullets?
‘Paul, please. Let me help you.’
He was crying, pitifully, like a child in pain, and she was crying too. A dim memory slid into Nina’s head and then came sharply into focus. It was the day he’d talked about, the day Claire found them crying.
She was just a little kid, in her room, scared because Paul was up here in the attic, howling like he was now. She’d gone up to see why Paul was howling… She couldn’t open the door at first, but then she managed and she sneaked into this room and Paul was pulling his trousers up and running towards her, his face full of terror and disgust and loathing and pain… and she screamed and screamed and they fled from the attic and Paul slammed the door shut and he stood there and banged his head on the wooden T on the door, again and again, bang bang and she couldn’t stop him… then she screamed again and they stumbled back to her room together. Dear God, how could she have forgotten that?
Shaking, Nina glanced behind her. David was there with two other officers, and they were all armed. David jerked his head towards the stairway, but Nina shook her head. She took a careful step towards Paul and he lifted his head and gazed at her. His eyes were dark, and she had seen that expression before, that day when he’d run across the attic towards her…
‘All I wanted was to make them suffer too,’ he whispered. ‘They turned me into something I wasn’t, Nina. I never had a chance, I - ’ His voice broke.
Nina dropped to her knees and edged towards him. ‘Paul. You have a chance now. Come downstairs with me and I’ll help you. The police know you were a victim first. I won’t press charges, Paul, I promise. You could come to Arran, you could…’
His face was sheet-white and his eyes were unfathomable. ‘No. I couldn’t. But you’re right you won’t press charges, Nina. You won’t get a chance. I’m out of here.’
Before she could move he turned the muzzle towards his head and pulled the trigger. Nina screamed as David Mallony grabbed her and pulled her away. Paul was slumped on the floor under the window, a huge hole in his forehead. Her ears ringing, Nina pulled away from David and scrambled across the attic to Sam.
‘Sam? Sam, love!’ She dropped to her knees beside him and cradled his head. Thank God, he was breathing. She patted his face, and his eyelids flickered.
‘Sam, baby, hang on. David! Call an ambulance!’
‘Here already, they’re on their way up,’ said David, squatting beside the young policeman. ‘Steve? Keep still, help’s on its way.’
Nina knelt beside Sam, her arms round his head. Sam was hurt, Paul was dead, Naomi was God knows where, and she would never know exactly why Claire had acted as she did, all those years ago – but that was no longer important. Today was important… Sam had to be okay; she couldn’t lose him too. Paul had his peace now, but she and Sam were only at the beginning of their story. Please let them have a story.
Nina sobbed quietly as a green-clad paramedic bent over the still form under the attic window and then rose again, shaking his head.
Paul’s mission was over.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sunday 30st July
Heathrow was mobbed as usual. Feeling more depressed by the minute, Nina glared round the crowds in the departures area.
‘Can I buy a magazine? Please? Except I don’t have any money left.’
Naomi was hopping impatiently from one foot to the other, and Nina made a face at her before handing over a ten pound note.
‘Here. But I want the change, okay?’
Naomi ran into the newsagent’s and began to investigate the magazine rack. Nina followed, unable to let her daughter out of her sight. They were travelling a day later than planned, but Nina couldn’t leave until she was sure Sam would be none the worse after his ordeal. They’d kept him in hospital till Saturday afternoon, and he’d had an almighty headache all day yesterday.
Nina shivered. They had still escaped lightly. Waiting at the hospital on Friday while the doctors examined Sam had been terrible. Only Glen and Cassie were allowed in with him, and Nina, unable to sit still, went up to the neurosurgery department to visit Sabine. What she saw there was horrifying; Sabine had wires and tubes connecting her to a life support system, the same kind Claire had been wired up to, and the right side of the young woman’s body was twisted and lame. David Mallony told her the doctors were talking of permanent brain damage now.
It was an incredible relief to go back downstairs to A&E and find Sam sitting up on his trolley talking to Glen and Cassie.
They spent Saturday quietly, visiting Sam in the morning and Emily in the afternoon. The old woman was visibly saddened, and Nina thought guiltily that Emily might well have been happier if they’d never met. But that was impossible now, and at least she could do something for her elderly relative. Cassie and Glen were going to visit regularly, and Nina knew that she and Naomi would travel down several times a year. Emily deserved that much at least. As for Paul – if George Wright agreed, she would have Paul’s ashes sent to Arran. She and Naomi would scatter them on the beach and her cousin’s last resting place would be a beautiful one.