The Hunt For Sonya Dufrette Part 7

'No. A friend of mine was. She wants to get to the bottom of it, you see. She wants to find out what really happened. She is worried about - um - some aspects of the affair. There are things that don't quite tally. I am helping her. She is a very good friend.'

'Is she your girlfriend? Sorry. I shouldn't be asking you such questions.'

'No, that's all right. Well, she isn't my girlfriend - not yet at any rate, but I very much hope she'll agree to marry me one day in the not too distant future.' Golly, Major Payne thought. That's the first time I've ever said it aloud.

'I hope you will be very happy. You look like a good and decent man.'

'Thank you. Now then. What was it your daughter told you? I mean about the money, how she got it. Did she explain?'

'She said she had won it at the pools. It was a lot of money. An incredible amount. I couldn't believe it when she told me. I - I didn't like the way she said it. I knew something wasn't right. It happened soon after that child - the child Chrissie had been in charge of - died. The little girl...'

'Sonya. Sonya Dufrette.'

'Sonya ... Yes ... I never made the connection between the two, I honestly didn't - I mean between Sonya and the money. I did wonder later on, though of course it didn't make any sense, so I dismissed it altogether from my mind. I can always tell when Chrissie tells a lie. She isn't good at it. She isn't a bad girl, but she does do stupid things and then suffers for it.' Andrula paused. 'So. Let me get this clear. She said I was very ill and that she had to come and see me? That she had to leave the house? Is that right?'

'Yes. Somebody put her up to it. It was part of a plan. We don't think it was her idea, if that's any comfort to you. Somebody planned Sonya's disappearance, somebody rich and influential - we don't know who that person is, though we have our suspicions. We have no idea what the reason for it might be either. This person paid your daughter a large amount of money for her to leave the house on the morning of the 29th -'

'That was the day of the royal wedding, wasn't it?'

'It was. We think the royal wedding was pivotal to the scheme. No witnesses - everybody inside, watching TV. We are talking serious business. Whoever planned Sonya's disappearance meant it to work with oiled precision.'

'My G.o.d! That's wicked - evil!' Andrula cried. 'What did they want with a young child like that?'

'That's the question we keep asking ourselves, Mrs Haywood ... You don't have any idea who it might have been?' Payne asked gently.

She covered her face with her hands. She sat very still. He wondered if she was praying, or simply trying to concentrate. Eventually she spoke. 'Chrissie gave me half of her "winnings", that's what she called it. I did accept it, although, as I said, I wasn't happy about it. I had a funny feeling. We were in Margate. I had a boyfriend then. We were having such a good time, but then I got the paper and read about Sonya's disappearance. "Presumed drowned", it said there. I recognized the name at once. Sonya Dufrette - yes. Chrissie had told me about her position with the Dufrettes - that they were really posh and very eccentric.' Andrula pressed her handkerchief against her lips. 'She liked that little girl, Major Payne.'

'I am sure she did.'

'She felt sorry for her. She did talk about her. She told me Sonya had something wrong with her. Sonya was young for her age. She was seven but she acted like she was five ... I met them once, actually. Mr and Mrs Dufrette and little Sonya -'

'You met the Dufrettes?'

'Yes. They were going somewhere in the car - a very big car but very old. Anthos - my boyfriend - said it was a Daimler. 1950s model. Anthos knew about cars. They were going to stay with some friends of theirs, somewhere in the country. Chrissie needed to collect something from the house, so they stopped outside. Mrs Dufrette - Lena - came out and said h.e.l.lo to me. She was very friendly. She was a bit drunk, too, I think. She had this amazing hat on. A Stetson and she wore cowboy boots with spurs and she had a red kerchief tied round her neck. Her face was very painted - her lips and cheeks - and she had henna-dyed hair. She was very - colourful.'

'You are too kind. "Garish" is the word I'd choose.'

'Anthos said, "Here comes the circus." Lena asked me whether I could dance sirtaki and was it true that Greeks broke plates when they got excited at parties. She said she really liked that - that she liked breaking plates herself, whenever and wherever she got the chance. She was joking of course.'

'Don't be too sure,' Payne murmured. 'Did you get to speak to Dufrette?'

'Mr Dufrette? No. He stayed in the car. He was scribbling something in a notebook. Lena said he was writing a new history of the world. I could see his lips moving - he was talking to himself. All right, I did think them very odd. The little girl didn't say much - she came out too but she just stood there smiling.'

'I see ... Mind if I smoke?' Payne had produced his pipe.

'Please do. I used to smoke myself but gave up.'

'Did your daughter ever mention a woman called Hermione Mortlock? Lady Mortlock?'

'No, never. At least, not that I remember.'

'Where did your daughter go after she left the Dufrettes' employment?'

'Well, she moved in with us for a bit ... in this house ... She didn't like it much. She didn't get on with Anthos.' Andrula sighed.

'Did she receive any visitors - any phone calls? Do you remember?'

'I don't think Chrissie had any visitors, but there were several phone calls for her ... Two from Lena, actually. Mrs Dufrette.'

Major Payne took his pipe out of his mouth and leant forward. 'Lena phoned your daughter? And it was after Sonya's disappearance? You sure?'

'Yes. Twice ... The first time Chrissie wasn't at home. I answered the phone. Lena said, could Chrissie get back to her as soon as possible as it was extremely important.'

'How did Lena sound? Anything unusual strike you?'

Andrula frowned. 'Funny you should ask that. She didn't sound like someone who had lost a child. It was the week after the tragedy, you see. I expressed my condolences - I was close to tears, but Lena - Mrs Dufrette - kept making jokes and laughing and acting all comical. I was stunned. Then I thought it was the shock, that she had gone slightly mad, or that she was on medication or something. Anti-depressants can make you high, can't they?'

'I suppose they can. I believe they call Prozac "bottled sunshine".'

'I gave Chrissie the message when she came back. Chrissie went all pale. She looked - well, frightened. She couldn't hide it. She's not very good at hiding her feelings. She then closed herself in the lounge and told us not to go in while she was making the call. She sounded very tense. I could see she was very upset. Afterwards she went straight up to her room. She refused to eat anything. Later I heard her crying, but didn't dare ask her what it was about. I knew then for certain that there was something very wrong, only I couldn't think what it was.'

'You said Lena called a second time?'

'Yes. The very next day. This time Chrissie was at home and again she closed herself in the lounge and screamed at us not to spy on her. With some justification.' Andrula swallowed. 'You see, Anthos did listen in. He ran into the kitchen and got on to the extension. I went after him - told him not to do it, but he pushed me away. He knew something was going on. He wasn't a fool. I am afraid he didn't like Chrissie. He thought she was stuck up - made fun of her hair-do because it was like Princess Diana's - called her a sn.o.b. He kept calling her "Her Highness". They were forever snapping at each other.'

'Did he tell you what he had heard?'

'He did. I don't think he made it up. Lena's exact words were, You'd better keep your mouth shut, my girl, or they will kill us both.'

'Really?' Payne sat very still. 'Who's "they"?'

Andrula shrugged. 'I don't know. He didn't hear anything else. The extension went dead; there was something wrong with it. Anthos was convinced that it was something to do with spying, Lena being Russian and all that. I thought he was talking rubbish. I didn't really let it worry me. I decided that Lena had probably gone mad with grief, that she didn't know what she was talking about ... But Chrissie did look terrible when I saw her later. I asked her what the matter was but she just shook her head.'

There was a pause. 'How long after that did she win the pools?' Payne asked.

'That same week. After she got the money, Chrissie changed and for a while at least she seemed happy. She kept hugging me - kissing me - laughing and crying - tears of joy, she said. She apologized for behaving badly and then said she wanted to share her fortune with me -' Andrula broke off. 'It couldn't have been Lena who gave her the money, could it? I don't think the Dufrettes were really rich, Chrissie said they weren't. So, if she didn't win the pools, who gave her the money?'

'Who indeed?' Payne relit his pipe. "'They"? Who's "they"? The same "they" who had threatened to kill Lena and her? Interesting.'

'What's all this about? That poor child - merciful G.o.d, what did they do to the child? What was that other name you mentioned? You asked me if she had phoned? Lady Mortlock? You don't think it was she who was behind it? Whatever that was?'

'The idea did cross our minds. Well, it was Lady Mortlock who lied about you being very ill, in hospital,' Payne said thoughtfully. 'I wonder now ... I very much wonder.'

14.

The Monocled Countess 'Miss Darcy, are you all right?' Miss Garnett touched her arm.

'Yes - I'm fine. Sorry.'

'Would you like a slice of cake, or would you prefer a sandwich?' Miss Garnett had already poured two cups of tea.

'A sandwich - thank you very much.'

Antonia made an effort to concentrate as Miss Garnett talked about ill.u.s.trious old families like the Actons, the Astors, the Mitfords, the Tennants and indeed the Jourdains - but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Lady Mortlock had never had a daughter. She had never had any children. She had never given birth. She had told a lie. Another lie. Three lies in total.

All the photographs in the room, each and every one of them, were of Lena Dufrette. Lena Sugarev-Drushinski, as she had been back in 1958. Lena and Lady Mortlock had been to see a play together, a play that had been outre if not scandalous. Lady Mortlock had gone out of her way to distance herself from Lena. She had pretended they were strangers - There was a knock on the door and a youngish woman with a square face and the physique of a prize fighter appeared. Her arms, Antonia observed, were the size of small tree trunks. Two plasters had been stuck on her left arm where presumably Lady Mortlock had scratched her. She wore a smart uniform that looked a little bit too tight for her and trainers whose laces had been left undone. Norah, the nurse.

'I am sorry to interrupt your repast, ladies, but there's an important message from HQ,' she said in tones of comic gravity.

'Oh dear,' Miss Garnett said. 'Not another crisis, I hope?'

'Nope. All's quiet on the Western Front. Her Ladyship's compliments and would Mrs Antonia Rushton care to go and see her now?'

'Would Mrs Rushton ...?' Miss Garnett pushed her gla.s.ses up her nose. 'Hermione actually said that?'

'Yep. She wants to see her. Now.'

'So Lady Mortlock knows I am here?' Antonia put down her cup.

'Oh yes. She knows all right. She recognized your voice and everything. She told me all about you, actually.'

Antonia blinked. 'Really?'

'She told me how you used to kill stoats.' Norah laughed exuberantly. 'Only kidding. In my kind of job, if one doesn't crack jokes, one would go mad,' she explained. 'You agree, don't you, Miss G.?'

'That would be enough, Norah,' Miss Garnett said and she turned to Antonia. 'What do you think? You'd be quite safe, I am sure. Norah will be outside the door. On the other hand -'

'Hurry up, Miss G. I suggest Mrs Rushton goes at once, otherwise Her Ladyship may change her mind. She may go back to where she was earlier on and that, I must tell you, wasn't a good place.'

'Don't call her "Her Ladyship", Norah.'

Antonia rose. 'I'll go. After all, that's why I came.'

As they walked down the corridor, Norah popped a piece of chewing gum into her mouth and said, 'These old bags are driving me mad. In some ways Miss G. is worse than Lady M. There it is. The lair of the beast.' She opened a door. 'I'll be here.' She pointed to a chair. 'Give me a shout if she turns nasty. You've written your last will and testament of course? You're insured? Only kidding.'

The bedroom was as large as the sitting room, its walls covered in wallpaper of Delft blue. The pattern was of snow-white cranes in vertiginous flight. There were no pictures on the walls, only a magnificent mirror encrusted with bees in ormolu. In the middle of the room stood a four-poster bed made of rosewood. Lady Mortlock sat bolt upright, propped up by satin pillows, clutching a pair of rimless reading gla.s.ses over what looked like a small black prayer book. Antonia was surprised - Lady Mortlock had always been scornful of religion. Well, people mellowed with age and last minute conversions were not unknown.

Lady Mortlock was still recognizable as the imperious woman whose family history Antonia had been writing twenty years earlier, but only just. Her frame in a cream-coloured nightdress was shrunken, her face emaciated, the parchment-like skin stretched across the skull, the lips wasted and grey. Her eyes were like bullet-holes, almost invisible in their orbits, rimmed with startlingly vivid red. The eyelashes were gone, though she still had her brows. Her hair was white and wispy and it was covered with an old-fashioned black net. Lady Mortlock's Roman nose seemed more prominent now - the only prominent thing about her. The hands that clutched at the book were brown with liver spots and claw-like.

Antonia had expected the dazed-sheep look of the gaga old, but Lady Mortlock's eyes were unnervingly alert. She looked a cross between a mummy that had been reanimated by some mad scientist and an ancient bird of prey.

'No doubt you disapprove? You always disapproved of them, didn't you? You never said anything but I could see you disapproved.'

'Good afternoon, Lady Mortlock,' Antonia said brightly, reminding herself that her work at the club had equipped her for dealing with the non sequiturs of old people. She felt sudden horror at the thought of shaking hands with Lady Mortlock. She imagined Lady Mortlock's hand to feel like a loose set of bones tied inside a very dry suede bag. Mercifully, the old woman's hands remained on her lap.

'I mean my father's books. This is one of them.' Lady Mortlock tapped her gla.s.ses against the book on her lap. Her voice, surprisingly, was very much as Antonia remembered it - deep and autocratic, though there was a somewhat hollow ring to it now. 'I saw you looking at it a minute ago. The Future of Eugenics. It was written in 1928. I don't suppose many books are written on the subject nowadays, are they?'

'I don't know. I don't think so.'

'What is the future of eugenics? Never mind. Come and sit here, Antonia. Beside me.' She pointed to a small armchair upholstered in maroon velvet. 'Bea says it's extremely comfortable and about such things Bea is usually right. That's where she sits when I ask her to read to me. I am no good in the evenings. I go blind. Let me look at you,' she said as Antonia sat down beside her. 'Well, neither of us is getting any younger. You are far from repellent, but you have put on weight. You need to take more exercise. Have a ma.s.sage once a month. Have your hair dyed blonde, now why don't you? It would suit you, I think. I never did any of these things, mind. Despised women who did. Despised the flesh, rather refused to recognize it - with one notable exception.' She paused. 'You were in the sitting room, weren't you?'

'Yes.' Antonia shifted slightly in her chair.

'You recognized her, didn't you? Don't deny it. Now she - she - has changed beyond recognition. She came to see me some time ago ... Change and decay ... Change and decay everywhere I see! You know Elizabeth Street?' Lady Mortlock pointed a skeletal finger towards the window. 'I bet you didn't know it started as Eliza Street? d.u.c.h.esses do their shopping there now but one hundred years ago it was a terribly disreputable place, with tarts plying their trade and earning a few pence from the river traffic. Now, that's one change for the better, but I can't think of many others.'

'How are you?' Antonia asked.

'The mind goes first. Every minute, every second, brings me closer to the grave. I am constantly made aware of it. When I turned eighty -' Lady Mortlock broke off with a frown. 'How old am I now?'

'Eighty-seven.'

'When I turned eighty, I suddenly became extremely self-conscious about my age and the decline in my powers. I realized that intellectually I had started slipping. In consequence I tried to learn even more things than usual by heart, partly to prove to myself that I could do it, partly to ensure that I didn't bore or irritate my visitors. I also insisted that I be given a course of vitamin B12 injections. Well, I have fewer visitors now and I no longer remember things. The injections continue, but I don't think they have any effect, apart from making me feel rather sore and a bit nauseous. The very distant past sometimes comes back, crystal-clear, to taunt me mainly, but what I did ten minutes ago is lost in a fog. It's no mere loss of memory. I believe I have fugues. Was it me who scratched the nurse woman? We don't keep cats, so it must have been me.'

'I don't know. I don't think so.'

'You don't want to upset me. You think I might get a heart attack or something if you do.' Lady Mortlock paused. 'You did see the photographs in the sitting room, of course?'

'I did.' Antonia decided she might as well take the bull by the horns. 'You knew Lena before she married Lawrence Dufrette.'

'Was it ever suggested otherwise?'

'Yes. You said that you had first met her when Lawrence introduced her as his young bride.'

'Really? I believe you are right. I did. Lena came to see me, you know. I don't remember when. Was it last year? Two years ago? It might have been last month. It doesn't matter. She told me all manner of useless things. That she and Lawrence had separated, that she had had a fortune which she had frittered away and was now dest.i.tute, that Lawrence had been quite unable to keep his hands off that girl of theirs and how her mother's heart had been broken, how much she missed Baltic herring on b.u.t.tered brown bread, how ungrateful and mean someone called Vivian was -'

Antonia frowned. 'Sorry to interrupt you -'

'Lena seemed to believe I would be interested. She looked dreadful. She's got really fat. Her hair was sickly orange and she reeked of brandy. She kept snivelling, bemoaning her fate. She tried to hold my hand. She even attempted to kiss me. It all made me so grievously ill that Bea thought the end had come. Bea had no idea of course that my visitor and the girl in the photographs were in fact the same person. Well, in a manner of speaking they weren't ... Do you dream, Antonia?'

'I do.'

'I had a very peculiar dream the other night. The wake of a battu. Dead boars, at least fifty of them, all very young, laid out on the drive leading up to the house. Some of them still twitching. The house, I am sure, was Twiston. All lit by flambeaux held by beaters - while men in letter-box red outfits were cutting out the boars' livers. It has to be done at the moment of death, you see, that's when it becomes a delicacy. One of the men was Michael and he was extremely busy cutting away with an enormous carving knife. His hands were covered in blood ... He looked different from the others. He was got up in white robes, like some high priest ... Funny how badly Michael took it when that little girl drowned. One would have thought she was his daughter!'

'Miss Garnett thinks the girl in the photographs is your daughter.'

'Well, that was a fiction which was started by George. Michael's son. In the name of decency and propriety, I imagine. George had guessed my secret, you see. George is the master of polite fictions. He used to be in the diplomatic corps. Insufferable prig. Can't stand him. When he is here, I always put on a show. I act as though I were really demented.' Lady Mortlock laughed - it came out as a cackle.

'Was Lena one of your pupils?'