The Hunt For Sonya Dufrette Part 9

'No such thing as the "c.o.c.ktail hour" any longer exists.'

'The Elsnor, did you say? Are you sure it's not the Elsinore? Would be so much more suitable a place for conjuring up ghosts from the past -'

'Stop showing off,' Antonia said.

16.

'She was never in the river . . .'

The Elsnor was a private hotel in Bayswater that occupied two corner houses in a noisy region east of Queen's Road. It had been grand and ugly once, in the best manner of hotels built in the late Victorian era, but, having fallen on bad times, was merely ugly now.

'It has the air of neglected mystery about it' Major Payne declared. 'Sacre bleu, Prince Omelette! C'est le spectre de ton pere,' he sang out suddenly. That, he explained, came from a particularly witless French opera based on Hamlet, which he had seen at Covent Garden a while ago. No, it hadn't been a buffo opera - it hadn't been meant to be funny.

It was seven o'clock that same evening.

They entered the hotel through the revolving doors. An acrid smell hung on the air, suggesting some sort of conflagration had taken place. Antonia looked round nervously. A short circuit? Surely not a gun? Major Payne drew her attention to the fact that the two receptionists were under fire. One was being accused of having lost the pa.s.sport belonging to a j.a.panese tourist, while the other was trying to convince a group of extremely tense-looking German tourists that no booking had been made in their name and that they had come to the wrong hotel. 'But this is not possible,' the leader of the group was saying. 'I made the reservations myself. I want to see the manager at once.' The manager, he was told, was away.

They started crossing the hall and pa.s.sed by a sunken sofa. They saw a fearfully made-up girl in a miniskirt, black fishnet stockings and knee-length boots, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, sitting on the lap of a bald stout man who looked like a commercial traveller of the more prosperous variety, gazing earnestly into his eyes. Antonia shot Major Payne an eloquent look.

'Don't jump to conclusions. She may be his daughter. She may be upset about something,' Payne murmured. That was only a moment before the commercial traveller brought his face close to the girl's and ran his tongue across her lips and chin.

Placing his hand at Antonia's elbow in a protective manner, Payne propelled her briskly through the hall.

They were following the sign pointing in the direction of the bar. 'I bet it leads to the saunas,' Antonia said. 'It seems to be that sort of place. '

However, the arrow did not lie and soon they found themselves entering the Elsnor bar. Beside the door there stood an ancient stuffed bear with eyes of coloured gla.s.s. Its right paw was raised in greeting, the left one was missing. Inside the bar it reeked of stale smoke and some exotic, rather sickening, scent, which, Major Payne insisted, was actually formaldehyde. It was a dark cavern of a room with vaulted ceilings, empty and very quiet. They could hear water dripping dolorously somewhere.

'Doesn't it put you in mind of the Blitz? What will you have?' Payne asked her. His hand was still at her elbow.

'Gin and tonic. Why are you whispering?'

'I feel like a neat whisky ... There's a speck of soot on your cheek. Do let me.' He took out a starched handkerchief. Who did his ironing? Antonia wondered. 'Don't move ... Are your eyes actually blue? Do they change colour? Don't move. It's gone ... No waiters ... Why isn't she here?' He looked round at the empty tables.

'She might be dead,' Antonia suggested. 'Alcoholics and junkies have notoriously short lifespans. They might be carrying her coffin down the back stairs at this very moment.' Was she seeking refuge in morbid flippancy, as a form of defence against his flirtatiousness?

'Let's find the barman,' he said.

But there was no barman. It was only as they approached the bar counter that they noticed the barmaid. A bull-shouldered woman with orange hair and the lurid lips of a Land Girl, who sat slumped on a stool. So focused was she on her own drink, a tall gla.s.s filled with vermouth the colour of old blood, which she was sucking through a green straw, that she took no notice of them.

They halted and Payne said, 'Good Lord.'

'Yes, it's her,' Antonia whispered. 'It's Lena ... In charge of the drinks.'

'Asking Mistress Fox to feed the chickens, eh?'

'Yes. It can only happen at a place like this.'

'Big, loose and picturesque ... Dracula's daughter ... The fantastical hausfrau ...'

'She looks like an inflated Zandra Rhodes doll. She still rims her eyes with kohl.'

'Let's go and beard this phantom bride in her bibulous bower!'

'Be quiet, Hugh.'

'We'll play it by ear,' Major Payne explained sotto voce, privately noting with some satisfaction that she had called him Hugh. 'The main thing is to act as though we have no idea who she is.'

'She's not likely to recognize me, is she?' Antonia sounded anxious.

'Fear not. I am sure you haven't changed one little bit,' he said gallantly. 'It's only that she looks pickled. Observe the catatonic stare. Leave it to me. I'll start, you follow my cues. We'll concoct our plot as we go along.'

As they approached the curve of the bar, Lena looked up and regarded them out of puffy eyes. 'h.e.l.lo,' she said amiably. 'Such a hot day, isn't it? There used to be a fan, but someone stole it.' She no longer spoke with a Russian accent but slurred some of her words a bit. She smacked her lips. 'Disgraceful. What would you two love birds like?'

She was wearing a faded maroon-coloured velvet gown that seemed to have seen better days and heavy costume jewellery. Her ear lobes were weighed down by enormous pendant earrings made of sparkling Swarowski crystals set in bronze frames. Her face was the shape of a full moon and plastered with pancake make-up. 'A gin and tonic for my wife and a scotch for me, please,' Payne ordered. 'Neat.'

On the counter in front of her, there lay a half-eaten bar of chocolate, a lipstick, a powder compact, four large tablets with a purplish coating and a sheet of pale mauve paper - it looked like a letter, Antonia thought.

'We don't get many married couples here,' Lena observed. 'Only foreigners bring their wives.'

'We lit on the Elsnor by a trick of fate. Charming place,' Major Payne said. 'Have you got Famous Grouse?'

'Are you a soldier?' Lena asked. She popped one of the purple pills into her mouth, washed it down with vermouth, then busied herself with bottles and gla.s.ses. She was painfully slow and clumsy. 'You certainly have that air. My papa served with the Imperial Cossacks for a while. He was aide-de-camp to the Tsar's brother. You are a soldier, aren't you?'

'Spot on, dear lady. Major Payne at your service.' Antonia had never heard him put on this voice before. He made himself sound ridiculously Blimpish.

'Can you read that letter?' Antonia whispered when Lena turned round to get a bottle of tonic. 'I think it's a letter. It's upside down.'

Payne rose to the challenge at once. 'I'll try.' She saw him tilting his head to one side and squinting.

'All the ice's melted, I can't understand why,' Lena said. 'There's plenty of lemon. Have you been abroad?' She was peering into Antonia's face now. 'You have a lovely tan. You look a simpatico sort of person. You've been abroad, haven't you?' Antonia's heart missed a beat, but Lena showed no flicker of recognition.

'Spot on again,' Payne said. 'Kenya, actually. Got off the plane three hours ago. We'd been visiting friends. Name of Sandys,' he added casually and he gave Antonia a wink. Sandys, she had told him, were the couple who had bought Twiston from the Mortlocks and then sold it to Mrs Ralston-Scott before leaving for Kenya. She thought she could guess the kind of game he had started playing. He had managed to establish a connection with Twiston without arousing Lena's suspicions. What next? she wondered, fascinated.

'Kenya, eh? Lovely place.' Lena nodded approvingly. 'Or so I've been told. Safaris and moonlit picnics and sundowners till sunrise? Lovely place to be. No matter how much you drink, you never get drunk. It's the air that does it, apparently. So fresh and pure. My papa got to know the White Valley. He became a tremendously popular figure at the m.u.t.h.aiga Club. He got on famously with the crowd. He was in Kenya in 1940-something.'

'That's jolly interesting,' Major Payne said in a hearty manner. 'He must have been there when Lord Erroll was murdered?'

'Yes, I believe so. Here you are, your drinkies ... Prosit.' She picked up her own gla.s.s. 'You don't mind if I continue?'

'No, of course not, dear lady. Perhaps you will allow me to order you a refill when you finish?'

'That's all right,' Lena said. 'I can have as much as I want.' She waved her hand at the range of bottles behind her. 'I can have anything I like whenever I like. Bliss.' She picked up her gla.s.s. 'Your good health.'

'Nazdarovye,' Payne responded in part. Antonia shook her head at him frantically - they weren't supposed to know she was Russian!

'What I'd really like now is an Egyptian cigarette that has been dipped lightly in cognac, but I am not allowed.' Lena sighed. 'Doctor's orders. The merest puff will kill me, apparently. I shall never launch merrily down the path of sin again. Doomed from here to eternity ... Oh well, c'est la vie. How did you know I was Russian?'

'Oh - you said your papa was aide-de-camp to the Tsar's brother. You meant the Tsar of Russia, correct?' Payne said coolly. 'I don't know many other tsars. And you mentioned Cossacks.'

'Quite the little detective, aren't you?' Lena laughed in a flirtatious manner.

There was a pause as they occupied themselves with their drinks. It was Antonia who broke the silence. 'Do you know, they still talk about the Erroll murder. They keep arguing about it. I mean in Kenya. Everybody seems to be an expert on the subject.' She laughed. 'I adore unsolved mysteries, don't you?' She delivered this effusively, in her best memsahib voice, and received a nod of approval from Payne.

For a moment Lena said nothing. She went on sucking vermouth through her straw. She appeared not to have heard. Then she said, 'They wrote a book about it, didn't they? They thought it was the husband who did it.'

'Sir Jock Delves Broughton. That's still open to debate,' Payne said. 'As so often happens with such cases. I find they never die down, not quite. Old Sandys told me about another one. Murder that took place twenty years ago - at the very house he bought! Pile of a place on the river. Outside Richmond.' He paused, but there was no reaction from Lena. 'Called - what was it, my love?' He turned towards Antonia.

'Twiston. We are thinking of paying it a visit, actually,' Antonia said. 'There's always an - atmosphere - at places like that. And this place, it seems, is really special.'

They were looking at Lena, but she hadn't stirred. She was staring down into her drink, her podgy hands clutching at the gla.s.s as though she feared somebody might s.n.a.t.c.h it away from her.

'Twiston, that's correct.' Payne slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. 'The old cerebellum's not functioning properly. Jetlag. Forget my own name next. Never been good on planes. Murder happened at the time of the previous owners. Couple called Mortlock. It was a young girl who got killed. Terrible tragedy.' He was gratified to see Lena look up slowly.

Antonia said in a low voice, 'The funny thing is - now you wouldn't believe this, but the place seems to be haunted!' It was Hugh's reference to Elsinore that had given her the idea.

'What d'you mean - haunted?' Lena ran her tongue across her lips.

'It's the ghost of the little girl that got murdered. She appears in the garden.' Major Payne took out his pipe. 'Always from the direction of the river.'

'What f.u.c.king nonsense is that?' Lena spoke thickly. She was scowling. 'What the f.u.c.k are you talking about?' Suddenly all her amiability had evaporated.

'Name of Sonya, I think? Sandys says he's seen her, several times. Others have seen her too,' Payne went on improvising. 'A very tiny girl - flaxen hair - white dress with little bells at the waist -'

They heard Lena gasp. 'Your friend Sandys is a liar!' she cried and she brought her fist down. Her double chin quivered.

There was a moment's silence, then Major Payne spluttered, 'I a.s.sure you, dear lady, Sandys is a fellow of great integrity - not the least bit fanciful either!'

'Sorry, but I can't allow this. You've got it all wrong. In the first place, there was no murder.' Lena was clearly making a monumental effort to appear calm. 'You don't know the story. A little girl did drown in the river, true, but that was an accident, not murder. That was an accident, a f.u.c.king accident. Sonya - the little girl - drowned. She fell into the river -'

'Oh, you know about it?' Antonia breathed. 'You weren't by any chance there when it happened?'

Lena considered the point and seemed to come to a decision. 'As a matter of fact I was there. It was all most upsetting. I was staying at the house. I - um - I knew the girl's parents. We were fellow guests. Actually, I was great friends with the mother.'

'What was she like?' Payne asked slyly. He put a match to his pipe.

'Oh, wonderful woman. Big-hearted. Giving. She'd had a very hard life. She'd never known true love, not for long. Only one man had ever loved her - and one woman. They had both worshipped her.' Lena dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her gown. 'Oh, she was a sweet-tempered, sensitive creature. One of the very best. The same, alas, can't be said about the father, but I mustn't gossip. Hate gossip. What I mean is, I know perfectly well what I am talking about.'

'Remarkable,' Payne said.

'Do tell us more!' Antonia gushed.

'There is nothing to tell. Why are people such ghouls? Sonya - I mean the little girl - fell into the river and drowned, that's all there is to it. She was young for her age. Backward. Terribly difficult, taking care of a child like that. I couldn't - I mean the mother couldn't call her time her own! They found her doll floating on the river, but of the girl there was no sign. Her body was never recovered, see? It was an accident. So next time you see your friend Sandys, kindly inform him that he's got the wrong end of the stick altogether. Tell him to be very careful. It's actually a crime spreading malicious rumours. If he's not careful, your friend Sandys may find himself in court.'

'Dear lady!' Major Payne protested. 'I a.s.sure you -'

'You too.' Lena shook her forefinger at him. Her mountainous bosom rose and fell. She picked up her gla.s.s and, not bothering with the straw, downed the rest of the vermouth. 'You too may land in real hot water if you go about telling people Sonya was killed. Murder indeed! Nonsense. Your friend Sandys needs to have his head examined if he's seeing ghosts. Anyone who is seeing ghosts needs to have their head examined.' She licked her lips. 'It's all wrong anyhow. Sonya couldn't have been coming from the direction of the river for the simple reason that...'

'Yes?' Antonia leaned forward.

'Nothing,' Lena said. 'Nothing at all. She couldn't have, that's all. There are no ghosts anyhow ... I need a drinkie. Mamma needs a drinkie. Badly.'

She had started wheezing like an ancient concertina. Her face under the make-up had become suffused. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her mouth, fish-like, kept opening and shutting. All of a sudden she looked dangerously on the verge of collapse.

'Are you all right?' Antonia said. 'Perhaps some water -'

'No, not water. A proper drinkie. Mamma needs a brandy.'

'Shall I pour you one?' In the most casual manner imaginable, Major Payne walked round the bar and stood beside Lena. 'Brandy, did you say?'

'Yes. Brandy, my friend. That's the best gut-rot there is. Armagnac, that's lovely. Lovely smooth taste. Oh, Mamma's so thirsty. Mamma loves it when someone else does the pouring ... That's how things used to be at my father's house. We were served by hussars. Bowing and clicking their heels. Not a single crease in their uniforms. Such style, such poise. Everything as it should be. Ah, glorious days. Thank you, kind sir.' She almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the gla.s.s from Major Payne's hand and started drinking. Her hand shook and some brandy got spilled. She made several gasping noises. She drank the whole of the brandy, to the last drop, as though it had been water. 'More,' she ordered imperiously. 'More. Another brandy - quick! Mamma's still unwell. Mamma needs her medicine.'

Payne picked up the bottle.

Antonia looked horrified. 'Hugh, you mustn't - it'd kill her,' she whispered.

He shook his head and mouthed, It won't.

'I used to live at the Dorchester, you know, but I was downgraded,' Lena said presently. Her gla.s.s, her second, was empty and she was holding it up. Payne obliged her. 'Vivian's so - so mean. After everything I did,' she slurred. 'I don't like my room here at all, but I was told I'd been given enough. I was told I was greedy ... Prosit ... Mamma feels better now. Not good - Mamma will never feel good, not as long as she's in this world, but Mamma feels better.' She took a sip. 'What were we talking about? Oh yes, that Twiston business. Well, it proved to be most unsettling, more than I ever imagined. Lawrence became quite impossible. Lawrence, you see, is the kind of man who would perpetrate evil for the betterment of evil,' she said, sounding oddly like the headmaster of his old school, Payne thought.

Lena smacked her lips. 'He kept blaming me. Said it had been my fault. If he knew what I had done - really done - ah, if he only knew! - he would have killed me. He'd have strangled me. Cut me into little pieces. I have no doubt about it.'

'What did you do?' Antonia asked boldly.

'In a way that was my revenge - taking away from him the one thing he adored. But let me tell you first what he did. I mean, when it was all over. You know Lawrence, of course? He kept kissing Sonya's toys - kissing her photo - her little shoes. He blubbed all over that giraffe. Disgusting. I never liked the way he kissed her, you see. That was before - before she left us. The way he crooned that song to her. If you love me, Dilly, Dilly, I will love you. Gives me the creeps, just remembering.' Lena's speech was becoming slushier. 'Like someone serenading their lover! My poor kotik. That's why I did it. Whatever else anyone may say ... Sans reproche, c'est moi.'

'What was it you did exactly?' Payne asked.

Lena took another sip of brandy and smacked her lips. 'Well,' she said conversationally, 'I'm sure there'd be those who'd say what an absolutely foul thing for a mother to do, but I acted out of the best motives. You don't think I should have said no to the money, do you?'

'No, of course not. The money must have been jolly useful,' Payne said.

'It was. Only it ran out. Don't you just hate it, when money runs out?'

'Great bore. I know the feeling too well.' Payne sighed.

This was surreal, Antonia thought.

Lena slurred on. 'Did you say you'd been staying at Twiston?'

'Yes.'