‘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.’
‘Hermione and Michael no longer live there.’ Lena took another sip of brandy. ‘No… Poor Michael’s dead anyway… They couldn’t have been talking… Nobody could have…’
‘Who’s “they”?’
Lena started shaking her head. ‘No, no, no. Out of the question
… Out of the fucking question… They knew they’d be sent to the clink if they did talk about it… They are no fools… I mean she – she is no fool.’ Lena reached out and tapped the letter that lay before her. ‘He is dead. Well out of it.’
‘Were the Mortlocks behind it?’ Antonia asked. She saw Payne frowning down at the letter, which, she was sure, he could now read without any difficulty.
‘The Mortlocks… Hermione was discreet… Always very discreet
… He was a passionate man. No one would have thought it.’ Lena shook her head. ‘Hermione feared scandal more than the Devil. I never feared the Devil myself – never! Do you realize? I actually lived with him.’
They had to strain to make out what she was saying now, the slurring had become so bad. Her eyes were almost entirely out of focus. She couldn’t last much longer, Payne knew. Besides he had heard someone enter the bar.
He asked, ‘Why did you say Sonya’s ghost couldn’t have been coming from the direction of the river?’ Antonia saw him reach out towards the letter.
“Strordinary question. Because -‘ Lena put up her forefinger -’she was never in the river in the first place. That’s why.‘
‘Where is she? Where’s the body?’
Antonia was to think later that had Lena answered the question, their quest would have been over, there and then, anticlimactically, rather flatly, in fact, beside the bar at the Elsnor hotel. She would never have gone to Twiston – and then the murder would never have been discovered.
Only Lena didn’t answer the question. As she emitted a gurgling sound and her heavy shoulders started heaving, Payne quickly walked away from her and joined Antonia. Lena’s eyes nearly popped out of her head and her mouth opened wide. The retching noises, when they came, were quite appalling. Lena’s head wobbled up and down. Suddenly lurching to the left she was violently sick. Then again – and again. Mercifully the bar stood between her and them.
‘Badmouthing as usual – in more ways than one,’ a voice said behind them. ‘How unfortunate that it should have happened now, but then that’s Lena for you. Unpredictable, to say the least.’
They turned round. A tall elderly man with very light blue eyes, a high-bridged nose and a mane of silvery white hair brushed back stood in front of them. He was clad very correctly in a blue-and-white striped serge suit and was holding a Panama hat in his right hand and a black Malacca cane in his left. There was something of the grand seigneur about him. At the moment his long face was cadaverously pale and twisted in a squeamish grimace. He raised his neck as if his shirt collar was too tight and he looked away from the bar.
Antonia drew in her breath. This was the man who had visited her at the club library the other day, and asked about books on the Himalayas. The man she had taken for -
‘Dufrette!’ Major Payne exclaimed.
17
The Sanity of Lawrence Dufrette
Lawrence Dufrette addressed himself to Antonia exclusively. ‘Odd thing, bumping into you again, or maybe not so odd?’ He dabbed at his brow with the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. The handkerchief bore the initials L.D., embroidered in blue silk, so there was no doubt it was him. ‘Mrs Rushton, isn’t it? Antonia Rushton? At the Military Club the other day they told me to ask for Miss Darcy.’
She nodded. ‘My maiden name.’
‘I see. Divorced? Then we do have something in common.’ He gave a Mephistophelean grin and patted his pocket. ‘My decree absolute. That was the purpose of my visit, to tell Lena in person, lest there be any misunderstanding. Communicating with Lena has always been a nightmare. She never answers any letters or faxes. Not even when they are from my solicitor. Especially when they are from my solicitor. She pretends she has never received anything. It is invariably a long and laborious process getting her on the phone and when I do manage to speak to her, she is either too drunk or too hung-over to make any sense.’
They had turned their backs on the dreadful scene in the bar and were walking briskly through the hall towards the exit. ‘Just a moment,’ Antonia said. They saw her walk up to the reception desk.
‘As a matter of fact we’ve met before. I used to work in the department that was next to yours,’ Payne said. ‘You’ve probably forgotten.’
‘I am afraid so. I am cursed with an appalling memory.’
‘My name is Payne. Major Payne.’
At the word ‘Major’, Lawrence Dufrette gave a little histrionic shudder. ‘I can’t say I remember your name. Not at all.’ He dabbed at his brow. ‘So hot, so damnably hot… Oh there you are, Mrs Rushton. Is anything the matter?’
‘No. I told the receptionists that their barmaid was feeling rather unwell and would they see if she needed any assistance.’
‘You are too kind. What Lena needs is a – No, I won’t say it. You don’t deserve to be shocked. You are a good woman, Mrs Rushton. I remember how sweet you were to Sonya.’
‘Have you been to the Elsnor before?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. Once… Lena wasn’t always like that, you know. There was a time when she was beautiful – spirited – exciting – fun. I was mad about her. We were that jousting couple, Benedick and Beatrice. I adored her. I couldn’t bear to be parted from her. I never for a moment imagined that my marriage would end up with the lethal conspiracies of – of -’ He broke off unable to find another theatrical metaphor.
‘Edward Albee’s Martha and George?’ Major Payne suggested.
Dufrette shot him a sidelong glance. They were now standing outside the hotel. It was a balmy evening. ‘I’d like to offer you a drink,’ Dufrette told Antonia and he took her arm. ‘May I? We need to talk. Somehow I don’t think your presence at the Elsnor was entirely accidental. Something is going on, isn’t it?’
‘You may put it that way,’ Antonia said. ‘By the way, Major Payne is a friend of mine. I understand you used to work together -’
‘That Italian bar over there isn’t too bad.’ Dufrette pointed with his cane. The place was called Papa Rodari. ‘We need to talk, Mrs Rushton.’
They walked across the road and entered the bar. There weren’t many people. They sat at a table beside the window. Payne had tagged along. As far as Dufrette was concerned, he might not have existed, but although he hadn’t been included in Dufrette’s invitation, he hadn’t been excluded either.