‘Why outre?’
‘That would convey the idea that she has a startling fantasy life,’ Melisande explained. ‘Do you remember how Papa Willard used to say that you would make a good actress? He refused to even consider the possibility of me becoming one.’
‘On that count Papa Willard was wrong.’
‘As it happens, Papa Willard was wrong on most counts.’
They had always called their late father Papa Willard.
Melisande peered at her. ‘You look a bit wan, Win. Grey and withered. What’s the matter? Or is it the light?’
‘Must be the light. I am fine, really. A little tired, perhaps.’
‘What have you been doing to tire yourself? I know you’ve been up to something.’ Melisande spoke in teasing tones. ‘I never know what you do or what you think. You look as prim as a prawn, but I am far from convinced that’s the real you. I haven’t the faintest idea what goes on in your head. No one would think we shared a house!’
‘It’s a large house,’ Winifred said lightly. ‘We have our separate quarters.’
‘I have been feeling trop troublante,’ Melisande said after a pause. ‘The truth is that I have been occupying an emotional cul-de-sac. I have been conforming to a pattern of existence only the most desperate human being would have chosen for themselves. You see, I haven’t recovered yet. The perfidy of my cavalier servante still haunts me.’
Winifred’s face remained blank. When it came to putting on a display of histrionics, her sister had no equal. ‘You mean James, don’t you?’
Melisande covered her eyes with her hand, as though to protect them from the glare of a merciless sun. ‘I still can’t believe he left me for that woman. Isn’t it incredible that I should have been deposed by a bulky-bottomed Balkanite? Isn’t it grotesque? Well, perhaps now he’ll reconsider. Perhaps now he’ll come to his senses.’
‘What do you mean – now?’
‘I know that I hated James and I wished him dead and I wanted to cut his Savile Row suits and ties into strips and raid his cellar and smash all his bottles of vintage port and pour paint all over his Porsche – but that was because I loved him so much.’
‘You said that James’ conduct, by any standards of civilized behaviour, was despicable.’
‘I am sure you think me inconsistent and irrational, but I am quite prepared to give him another chance. I believe it is not too late for me and him to find mutual flowering in each other.’
‘You swore you’d never give him another chance.’
‘It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. There will be some conditions of course. He will have to apologize. He will have to show genuine remorse. He will have to give me his word of honour that nothing like that would ever happen again.’
‘You said you didn’t want to see him for as long as you and he occupied this world. You said he deserved to be buried alive.’
‘Oh dear. Such colourful denunciations! Such pyrotechnics of verbal dexterity! I believe I was in a Medea mood. I remember alternating between rage and despair. When one is upset, darling, one says all sorts of things one doesn’t really mean. Try not to look so disapproving. The poor waiters will think there’s something wrong with your Anjou pigeon. They are so horribly sensitive here.’
‘It would be a mistake to have James back.’
‘You talk like this, because you were always a little in love with James yourself – you think I don’t know? No, it isn’t nonsense. Whether we like it or not, Win, we are both at an age when our cells and tissues start to impart unwelcome information, when the tick-tock of our body clocks becomes as loud and insistent as a church bell-’
‘I don’t think it would work. I really don’t.’
‘I wish I had your uncompromising spirit. Unfortunately, I haven’t.’ Melisande dropped her starched napkin on the table. ‘Furthermore, I am not ashamed to admit my weakness. James and I had something very special. Still have – these things don’t change overnight.’
‘But he is engaged to be married – I thought that was as good as settled. You said he told you they’d be leaving for Bulgaria early next month. They’ve bought the plane tickets, rings and practically everything, haven’t they? Stella’s moved in with him. Stella wants to be married in an Orthodox monastery, so they even contacted a priest-’
‘Oh, how I wish I didn’t tell you everything!’ Melisande cried. ‘Why am I such a fool? You even use the priest against me!’
‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘You’ve never wanted me to be happy. Never! Not even when we were children. Remember Blue-Eyes and the Turkey? Remember Miss Rossiter and the Glass-Eaters?’
‘I remember Miss Rossiter and the Glass-Eaters. I don’t think that was my fault.’
Melisande took a deep breath. ‘As a matter of fact, darling, there has been a development. The status quo has changed. You are, as they say, a bit behind with your facts.’
‘What facts?’
‘By the most incredible quirk of fate, James’ fetters have been removed and he is now what is known as a “free man”. He is in a state of shock, of course, though that will pass soon enough.’
‘Why is James in a state of shock?’
‘There is something you don’t know. Stella is dead.’
‘What?’
‘She died today. It was a ghastly kind of death, apparently. I mean – ghastly. A veritable Grand Guignol. But do let’s try to be positive and rational about it.’ Melisande tugged at her pearl choker. ‘Don’t you see? This seems to me a blessing of an extremely obvious kind. These are Miss Prism’s words, not mine. I am going to have a creme de menthe now. Sorry. I suppose you will say I am flippant and heartless?’
‘How did you know Stella was dead?’ Winifred asked quietly. ‘How did she die?’
7
Lethal Weapon
‘She was – beheaded?’
Major Payne felt his skin crawl – a vibration – a pale terror like the mist on an old-fashioned photographic plate.
‘Yes. I still can’t believe it. It’s incredible. It’s an abomination. An outrage. It makes no sense.’ Morland shook his head. ‘What kind of person would want to do a thing like that?’
‘What indeed… Let me get you another drink… You poor chap… Would you like something to eat? Sorry, I should have suggested it sooner. I’m not much good without Antonia, I’m afraid, but I could rustle up something – an omelette, perhaps?’
‘No. Nothing to eat. Thanks awfully, Payne, but I couldn’t touch a thing. I’d be sick if I did.’
‘Do go on, if you don’t mind… She was lying on the drawing-room floor at the Villa Byzantine? It was Tancred Vane who found her?’
‘Correct. She’d been to the Villa Byzantine twice before, you see. I know she rather liked it, but it’s a damned peculiar place-’
Villa Byzantine. Without the definite article, Major Payne reflected, it could be the name of a nightclub singer, a racehorse or a secret wartime operation. It was the kind of name that conjured up the intrigue and mystery of oriental adventures.
‘I thought it looked like a miniature Albert Hall,’ he said, remembering the photo on Stella’s mobile phone. ‘Is the interior awfully sumptuous?’
‘A Carrollian staircase. Lots of curios and draperies and antiques on every possible surface. Curved daggers and glass cases full of giant butterflies on the walls. Silver and crystal. A harmonium, if you please… Stella – her body – was in the drawing room – on the floor – between the french windows and the fireplace. Her head-’
‘Yes?’ Shouldn’t be ghoulish, Payne chided himself.
‘Her head was on the floor – near the window – it had almost rolled out of the window.’
‘The french windows were open?’
‘Yes… Such a bloodbath – it must have pumped out with great force from the neck. The rug in front of the fireplace was soaked with blood. There was some on the curtains too, I think, unless that was the pattern-’ Morland broke off. ‘Oh God – it was terrible – terrible!’