‘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 hello 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 snob. 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 God, 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 illustrious 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.