An embroidered stool had been overturned. The floor was littered with more books, bric-a-brac, some of it reduced to smithereens. A vase too had been smashed and the flowers that had been inside it, large crimson roses, strewed the carpet like splashes of blood.
‘No, don’t touch it. I’ll do it… It took the two of us to restrain her.’ Miss Garnett picked up the roses. ‘It’s most unfortunate that she should have got like this just when you were expected. I’ll go and make the tea now. I could do with a break. I have made some smoked salmon sandwiches; there are meringues and a date-and-walnut cake. Would that be all right?’
‘Sounds wonderful. Thank you.’
‘I won’t be a jiffy.’ Miss Garnett went out.
Antonia gazed round the room. From the urn and scrolls she deduced the fireplace to be Adam. There was a small but very beautiful writing desk of the Davenport kind. There were two armchairs, primrose yellow, like the sofa. Three striking period chairs, Hepplewhite, which she felt sure she had seen at Twiston, were ranged against the wall. Some good pictures, one possibly a Sargent. There was a pencil drawing of a triumphant-looking phoenix rising from the flames, with a motto underneath. Antonia expected it to be something on the lines of ‘Sorrows Pass and Hope Abides’ but, disconcertingly, it turned out to be ’Survival of the Fittest‘.
It was only then that she noticed the photographs, which was surprising given that almost every surface in the room was filled with them. The mantelpiece, the bookcase, the two small tables, the window sills… Two photographs lay on the floor amidst shards of glass. They were all black and white.
Leaning over, Antonia picked up one of the photographs gingerly and looked at it.
A girl… She thought the face was familiar somehow… Perhaps she was mistaken… No, it couldn’t be…
Her heart started beating fast. Rising to her feet, she started examining the rest of the framed photographs. Each and every one of them showed the same beautiful girl with short dark hair and a carefree smile, who looked no more than twenty. The photographs had been taken against the backdrop of Venice’s gondolas, canals and churches. The girl’s rather chic clothes suggested the late 1950s…
Antonia examined the girl’s face closely. No, she thought – it can’t be.
‘Oh, that’s so sad.’ Miss Garnett’s voice was heard from the doorway. ‘That’s Hermione’s daughter. Venice 1958. The last holiday they had together.’
‘But -’ Antonia bit her lip. Turning round, she watched Miss Garnett place a laden tea tray on the low table in front of the sofa.
‘Hermione’s daughter died tragically young. Hermione adored her. She never got over it. Oh, but I am sure you know all that.’ Miss Garnett picked up the teapot. ‘Shall I be mother?’
Andrula Haywood’s eyes were full of tears. She wiped them with the back of her hand. ‘Yes, I am Chrissie’s mother. You thought I was Chrissie?’
‘Chrissie?’ Major Payne echoed.
‘She was christened Chrisothemis, but she never liked her name. It’s a beautiful name but she was embarrassed by it. She was very self-conscious about being Greek. She wanted to be English, like her father. I don’t know why since he wasn’t much good. He left us when Chrissie was four. I don’t know where he is. Sorry – I don’t know why I am telling you this.’
‘Butterflies… Of course… Sorry, Mrs Haywood.’ Chrysalis. That was what Antonia must have been thinking about. ‘Do go on.’
Her hand went up to her forehead and she looked at him as though she doubted he was quite real. ‘Who are you? Is your name really Pain?’
‘It is. WithaYand an E at the end… Major Payne.’
‘You are a soldier?’
‘Well, yes. In a manner of speaking. I mean I’ve never done any proper soldiering – plenty of administrative jobs – intelligence service and so on. My son is a soldier. He is in the Guards.’
‘Keith, my husband, was a soldier. He was stationed in Cyprus. In 1960. That’s where we met. I was very young. I was a hospital nurse. I fell in love with him. I was very much in love with him, but it was a mistake to marry him.’
‘Where is your daughter?’ Payne asked after a pause.
She bowed her head. ‘I don’t know. The last time I heard from Chrissie, she was in Australia. That was four months ago. She was in New Zealand before that. She is restless. She is not happy. She keeps moving. She can’t settle down. She has money – she’s made some wise investments, I think – but she is not happy. She hasn’t married. She doesn’t keep in touch.’ Andrula Haywood sighed. ‘Twiston… Was that what the house was called? Were you there when it happened? I mean when – when that poor child drowned?’
‘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 God! 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.’