‘Nothing of the sort. I enjoyed every minute of it.’ Major Payne reached out and took her hand. She let him hold it. What the hell, she thought.
He went on, ‘The – what shall we call it? The hunt for Sonya Dufrette hasn’t been a failure. Au contraire. All right, we haven’t been able to discover Sonya’s whereabouts, but we did find out what happened. You had a hunch that there was something wrong and you were proved correct. A crime was committed, no matter how noble the motive for it. We did uncover greed, skulduggery, intricate scheming and deception. That’s an achievement. Truth has prevailed. That’s a cause for celebration and that’s what we are having now.’ He raised his glass again. ‘To Truth.’ He looked at her. ‘And to Beauty too.’
‘You are being silly now. Very silly. I am not really happy about it. In fact I wish we’d let sleeping dogs lie.’
He shook his head with exaggerated disapproval. ‘I am surprised at you, Antonia. Judging by your book, I was convinced that you were an uncompromising moralist.’
‘What I mean is, I am extremely uneasy about Dufrette – about what he might do next. He won’t give up until he has tracked down the Vorodins. And he won’t wait until Lena recovers – if she ever does – to get Veronica’s address. He will find another source of information soon enough. He said it himself. He looked absolutely determined.’
‘Yes.’ Payne ran a thoughtful forefinger along his jaw. ‘Absolutely, uncompromisingly, insanely determined. He looked like a man possessed by the spirit of a wolf hanged for manslaughter. Does that strike you as completely nonsensical? Why do these things sound so much better in one’s head? Am I right in thinking that it rather captures the essence of Lawrence?’
‘The hour of the wolf,’ Antonia said. ‘I hope it never comes… That’s when people die, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. According to Scandinavian mythology.’
‘He has a gun. He is prepared to use it,’ Antonia went on. ‘He not only wants his daughter back – he wants revenge. You did hear him say, “Paytime.” Lena, the nanny, Veronica – are they safe from him? I know this sounds wildly melodramatic, but then Dufrette is a melodramatic kind of person.’
‘True… He does seem to relish the role of the lone vigilante
… He didn’t like it one bit when you suggested that the police should be told. Crikey – he actually snarled at you!’
They had been standing inside the Elsnor lobby. Lawrence Dufrette had said he’d be very cross if they told the police. He had patted his pocket suggestively. He had expressed the hope that their paths wouldn’t cross again. He had said their meddling days were over, that they should make themselves scarce, that from that moment on he was in charge, that his hour had come. He had spoken in a low menacing voice. He had directed at Antonia a look full of antagonism and scorn and, yes, he had snarled at her. She had been shocked. She had thought they had been getting on really well. Of all the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde transformations!
‘Not a word of thanks either,’ Major Payne murmured. ‘To think that, but for us, he would never have known his daughter was alive.’
‘And he took that letter. We shouldn’t have let him. He will get someone to translate it for him… I wonder what was in it.’
‘It may be something totally irrelevant. Veronica saying, I took Sonya to Versailles yesterday. She enjoyed herself an awful lot. We wished you were here with us,’
‘I can’t imagine anyone wishing Lena were with them anywhere… Could they be in France?’
‘I don’t know. V.V. did use French writing paper, but that means nothing… Shall we order pudding and coffee? What would you like?’
‘A peche Melba with chocolate sauce,’ Antonia said recklessly. ‘How about informing the police?’
‘I don’t think it will make much difference.’ Payne took out his pipe. He went on, ‘You see, don’t you, that we can’t prove a thing? Dufrette will no doubt deny the existence of any letter point blank and express concern over the state of our respective minds. Miss Haywood may break down and confess fully, but there’s no guarantee. And I think it highly unlikely that Lena will ever admit to selling her daughter to the Vorodins.’
‘What if Lena did tell the truth about Dufrette and Sonya? What if some kind of sexual abuse did take place?’
‘Again, nothing that has the remotest chance of standing up in court. It was twenty years ago. A mentally deficient child too. Would Sonya – assuming she were ever tracked down – be able to testify? I rather doubt it.’ Payne lit his pipe.
There was another pause.
‘We could always report Dufrette for possessing a gun,’ Antonia said.
‘They are sure to discover that he has a licence for it.’
Antonia sighed.
20
Interlude
The next day Major Payne was called away to his farm in Suffolk, rather urgently, as a sudden crisis had arisen. His manager had been involved in a car crash, not a fatal one, but he was to spend at least a month in hospital, consequently Payne needed to take over the reins. He asked Antonia to go with him and, although she was tempted, she said it would be impossible. She couldn’t afford to take any more days off so soon after coming back from her holiday. They agreed to keep in touch either by e-mail or by phone.
‘Do let me know if something crops up,’ he said.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Something might. I have a funny feeling… Somehow I don’t think this is the end of the affair,’ he said. ‘For one thing we haven’t found Sonya Dufrette.’
She let him kiss her goodbye.
As it happened, she was very busy herself. It was the day for her monthly report to the club committee and she discovered she hadn’t done it. What with the flurry of recent activities, it had completely slipped her mind. She had only remembered the report as she woke up in the morning, and had jumped out of bed in a panic. She did manage to complete it in less than an hour, though it was far from satisfactory – or so she feared. Her only hope was that it wouldn’t be scrutinized too closely. That’s what she told Hugh, who phoned her at half-past eleven that same morning to see how she was getting on. He was insouciant about it. ‘Bluff your way through. They aren’t a particularly efficient bunch, from what I have heard.’ He meant the club committee. She agreed – they weren’t. ‘What’s that music?’ he asked. ‘Are you having a knees-up in the library^? ’
‘It’s the gardener’s radio. History of flamenco.’
At three o‘clock in the afternoon she went up the wide sweep of the staircase. She walked along the corridor, beautifully carpeted and decorated with taste but besmirched by a superfluity of signs and directions. The club was a notorious maze and, without the signs, newcomers would get lost and wander around until rescued by club members or staff. Antonia knew the place like the back of her hand, so the signs only annoyed her.
The committee meetings were invariably held in a huge gilded room with long curtained windows that looked over an enclosed formal garden. The walls were decorated with portraits of Nelson, Wellington and George V in his Sailor King uniform. Above the fireplace there was an obscure painting of the Battle of Balaclava.
Antonia was the first to arrive. It always happened that way. The committee weren’t famous for their punctuality. For a couple of moments she amused herself idly, standing beside the portrait of George V, bringing her face very close to it and seeing the intricately, even finickily, rendered blue uniform and perfectly trimmed beard disintegrate into a fuzzy, meaningless blur of brushstrokes. She then headed for the rickety, baize-covered card table, around which were ranged some ill-assorted chairs of good quality. She sat on one of the two Sheratons and, inconsequentially, remembered that last time she had sat on the Louis Quinze.
She opened her folder in front of her. Random thoughts kept revolving inside her head. The true nature and personality of Lawrence Dufrette. (How dangerous was he?) The need for a pair of shoes to go with the dark blue suit she was wearing. (Would Hugh like them?) The possible whereabouts of Veronica and Sonya. (What new names might Sonya have been given?) Hugh’s whereabouts at that very moment. (Could he be attending some tea-party organized by one of his numerous well-wishers with the sole purpose of introducing him to some highly eligible local widow? She sincerely hoped not.)