‘Yes. Very much the only child. Horribly precocious, I suspect.’
Dryden shook his head, sipping the tea.
‘Well. I was seen and never heard, never spoken to, in fact. But I had friends. There was Georgie for one. That’s why I remember the robbery. They let me see the body, which was extraordinary, wasn’t it? I suppose they thought differently then – about servants. It was just… laid there. I think they thought I’d lost a pet or something; dreadful, really. They kept saying there’d be another underbutler. They were like buses to them, you see – one along every few minutes.’
Dryden laughed but Miss Hilgay didn’t. ‘They laid him out in the kitchens, on one of the scullery tables. Georgie was fun, so I couldn’t understand why they’d done that to him – the burglars. His face was lopsided, stove in I suppose. There was a lot of whispering, about the blood.’
Dryden heard the key turn in the front door. Someone pushed it open with practised confidence and went straight to the kitchen. ‘Tea, Vee?’ There was a laugh in the voice, not quite a cruel one, but almost.
‘We’re in here. Bring a cup.’
Russell Flynn stood at the doorway, his tattooed dragon livid on the white flesh of his neck. Russell affected a nonchalant smile as he nodded at Dryden, but as he set the tea cup down it rattled in its saucer.
‘Russ,’ said Dryden, bringing out his notebook.
‘Russell is doing community service,’ said Miss Hilgay, pouring the tea. ‘He helps out – household tasks. We’re friends.’
‘So are we,’ said Dryden, beaming at Russell with 100-megawatt insincerity.
‘Miss Hilgay,’ said Dryden. ‘The police, did they tell you what they found with the body in the tunnel? A candlestick, some pearls…’
She shook her head. ‘Yes. But I already knew. Russell told me. He’s very good on local crime.’
‘Really?’ said Dryden, taking a biscuit.
‘He showed me the story in
‘The pearls and the candlestick were taken in the robbery. The police said they took the candlestick because it was the murder weapon. It had a black ebony ring. Worthless almost. As were the pearls, I’m afraid.’
Dryden looked at Russell, whose gaze fell to the sugar bowl.
‘Russell said that sometimes the police don’t give out all the details. That they may have found something else in the tunnel.’ It was a question, but she tried not to sound as if she wanted an answer.
Dryden shook his head. ‘I was there – there was nothing else.’
Her head lolled over the cup.
‘I’m sorry. It’s the Dadd, isn’t it? The Richard Dadd – the moonlight picture. You hoped…’
‘Yes. It was always my favourite. Well, ours. Georgie and I would imagine what the story was… fantasize about that scene, so mysterious, under the clouds. It’s the only thing left, you see – of the estate. Everything else went in death duties. But the Dadd was lost.’
‘So if they found the Dadd, you’d be rich?’
‘Again,’ she said, smiling. ‘Me. I’ve spent most of my life vilifying the rich – which got progressively easier as we lost our own money. Bit tricky if I got it back, eh? I’d have to give it all to Russ.’
Russell beamed, his freckles disappearing in a genuine blush.
‘But the pearls?’
‘As I say, worthless. I’d like to have them, though. My mother left them out that night – they were a copy of a real set my grandfather had given my grandmother. They’re fake. I used to wear them in the nursery. An odd thing to die for.’
‘Wouldn’t the Dadd, if it was found, simply be included in the estate to meet the debts?’ he asked, and Russell shot a glance at his elderly friend.
‘No. No, all the debts were paid. There was a tiny surplus, so we paid off the staff at the hall and provided a small pension for them. That was my mother’s decision, although she wasn’t happy. I told her we had no choice – the poor people. It was their home too.’
‘Home,’ said Dryden, regretting it instantly.
‘Yes,’ she said, looking round. ‘I’ve lived here for twenty-one years.’
Dryden looked out the front window, the smog was pressing up against the glass, cutting off the rest of the world. ‘Are they really going to evict you?’
‘Not today, it seems,’ she said. ‘They always come early – to catch you unawares, Russ says. But soon. They’ve made so many promises – but I bet that’s the one they’ll keep.’
Dryden stood. ‘I wonder where it is – the painting?’ he said, returning his tea cup to the tray.
There was an awkward silence as Vee shuffled the election leaflets. Dryden sensed that she was trying not to cry. Russell stood and put an arm round her shoulders.
‘I don’t think about that,’ she said eventually. ‘To think that someone else’s eyes may be falling on it right now. Do you think they’re innocent eyes, Mr Dryden?’ she asked, smiling.
‘I doubt that very much,’ said Dryden.
