‘Did you get to meet him?’
‘No. He hadn’t moved into the house or anything like that. He lived somewhere else, not far, and only came twice a week, to make sure the housekeeper and the servants kept everything in order.’ She paused. ‘It was a warm day, the day I went. The house was very quiet. It looked serene. There was nothing to suggest a tragedy had taken place there so recently. The windows had been left open and the curtains were blowing in the wind. I had the oddest feeling that – that Sonya was there, inside the house.’ Antonia frowned. ‘That she would suddenly appear from behind some curtain and cry, “Boo!” Somehow, at that moment, I felt absolutely sure she wasn’t dead. I remember standing in the middle of the hall – listening, waiting. I convinced myself I heard a child’s laughter but I am sure that was only my imagination. When a door opened, I jumped. Only it was Mrs Maloney. The spell was broken. She gave me a cup of tea. She was very friendly. She chatted away. She told me that the Mortlocks had no immediate intention of coming back to England. Sir Michael was still rather poorly. It was his nerves, she said. That’s what she had heard from the son.’
‘Nervous breakdown?’
‘That was the impression I got. Yes. He was extremely upset when Sonya disappeared. More than I thought possible. I saw him dabbing at his eyes. He was the only one who went up to Lena and put his arm around her shoulders. I remember wondering whether he might not have been in love with her.’
Payne smiled. ‘He might have been. He was known for his penchant for “chubby chicks”. That’s how somebody in the department put it.’
‘He had a Rubens in his study… Well, Sir Michael died the following year – or was it the year after?’
‘He died in 1982,’ Major Payne said. ‘I remember reading his obituary and talking to someone in the department who had known him well. It was exactly thirty years since he had started working at
MI5.’
‘I too read his obituary… There was something funny in it – something I thought odd. What was it? Can’t remember now. I did write to Lady Mortlock expressing my condolences. She never wrote back. She sold Twiston a few years later. In 1987, I think. There was an article about it in one of the papers. With pictures.’
‘Who bought it? The National Trust?’
‘A private buyer, I think.’
Major Payne observed that it must have cost a packet.
‘A couple of million or so. A fortune in the eighties… Where Lady Mortlock went to live after that, I have no idea, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.’ Antonia paused. ‘I suppose I could phone Twiston and ask if they have a contact number or address.’
‘You’ve written the number here,’ Major Payne said, tapping the last page of Antonia’s typescript.
‘So I have. Twiston 207452. They may have changed it of course. I’ll check. Lady Mortlock may still be abroad. That would complicate matters.’
‘How old did you say she was? Eighty-seven? You sure she is still alive?’
‘I’d have heard if she’d died. There’d have been obituaries, even if she’d died abroad… I wonder if she’d agree to see me. Or if she did, whether she’d be willing to talk about the past,’ Antonia said thoughtfully.
‘She might not be, if she had something to hide,’ Payne pointed out.
Antonia shook her head. ‘I can’t believe Lady Mortlock had anything to do with Sonya’s disappearance. I can’t. It makes no sense
… Even if she did hate the idea of a mentally deficient child being under her roof, she wouldn’t kill her. The idea’s absurd. Unless she was mad – which I don’t think she was.’
Payne leant across the table. ‘She told lies twice. Of course the lies might be unrelated to the disappearance. Still, it’s strange, you must admit.’
‘Oh it is strange. I won’t rest until I know the reason. I must see her.’
‘That’s where we start then.’
There was a pause, then Antonia said, ‘She never left the drawing room that morning. She couldn’t have done anything to Sonya. She couldn’t have phoned the nanny either.’
‘Why not? She could have done it from some extension. Don’t tell me there were no extensions at Twiston.’
‘Well, there were. But Lady Mortlock’s voice would have been instantly recognized by the servant who took the call – Mrs Maloney – even if she had tried to disguise it.’
‘Perhaps Mrs Maloney was in it too? Squared – her silence bought? Or maybe the caller was somebody else – an accomplice. Maybe Lady Mortlock was just the brains behind it. The mastermind. You look unconvinced… The other lead is of course the nanny. I can follow up that one. Find where she is, contrive to meet her, then try to trick her into some sort of confession. I’ll have to think of the best way to set about it,’ Payne mused aloud. ‘Miss Haywood… Where is she? What happened to her? If we are right and she did receive a fortune in hush money, she became one very rich young lady in the days that followed the royal wedding. I wonder if she suffers pangs of guilty conscience… You thought she looked anxious, didn’t you?’
‘I wonder if she was a Catholic,’ Antonia said suddenly. ‘She wore a crucifix round her neck.’
‘Might have been just a fashion fad,’ Payne said. ‘The nanny wasn’t pretty, was she?’
‘No. Not at all. Plain, actually. Poor complexion. Earnest-looking. Her hair had been dyed blonde and she had one of those unfortunate fringes girls in the early eighties sported in the hope it would make them look like the future Princess of Wales. It didn’t suit her at all.’
‘A Diana fringe suggests a romantic streak – or an idolatrous one.’
‘Or that she wasn’t happy in her own skin and wished to be someone else. The simple explanation of course would be that she was trying to be fashionable.’
‘What was her first name?’
‘I have no idea. Wait. It was something unusual and un-English, I think.’
‘That’s interesting. Don’t tell me la Haywood was Russian too. Lena’s Russian, isn’t she, also that other woman, her cousin? Could there be some Russian connection?’
‘No, not Russian – Greek. Yes. The nanny was Greek. Half Greek, actually. English father, Greek mother. I remember Lena talking about it. Something to the effect that Greek women made the most motherly of mothers but that they were also very crafty. I can’t remember the context… What was her first name now? I am sure it was mentioned
…’
‘Ariadne? Cassandra?’
‘No…’
‘Pandora? Pandora would be particularly appropriate since by leaving Twiston the nanny opened the box of all evil.’
‘You are making it worse.’
‘Penelope? Sorry. Melina?’
‘It was something rather unusual. It made me think of butterflies, for some reason… No, I can’t remember.’
‘An exotic first name will certainly help if I have to choose between, say, twenty Haywoods in the directory. Though she might have changed it, got married and assumed her husband’s name or gone ex-directory in the manner of the rich and famous. But don’t let’s waste any more time in idle speculation. Let’s get our teeth into something more definite first, shall we?’ He reached out and touched Antonia’s hand. ‘Let’s plan our respective campaigns and have another get-together later on, so that we can compare notes. How about tonight?’ Major Payne added casually. ‘Perhaps we could dine together and
‘No, not tonight.’ Antonia pulled out her hand. ‘I am baby-sitting tonight. My son and daughter-in-law are going to the theatre and leaving my granddaughter with me.’
‘Granddaughter? You are joking, aren’t you? You haven’t got a granddaughter?’
‘I have. Her name is Emma and she is three.’
‘I would never have believed it.’ He had opened his eyes wide. Antonia knew he was overdoing it, yet she
