with the ecstasy of it. He had broken down and wept. Never before had lovemaking been such an uplifting experience – so glorious, so infinitely rewarding!
He made a sound at the back of his throat, a kind of whimper.
She drew his head towards hers and kissed him on the lips.
35
The Cry of an Owl
It was the following morning. Antonia had made herself a cup of coffee when the telephone rang.
‘Miss Darcy? James Morland speaking.’
‘Oh, hello.’
There it was. She had been right. It hadn’t taken him too long. She looked at the clock: ten minutes past ten.
‘Would it be possible for me to have a word with you?’
‘Of course. I’ve been expecting you to call,’ Antonia said conversationally. Let him see he was not mistaken. Let him realize that his worst fears had been confirmed. Don’t let there be the slightest doubt in his mind that she knew. ‘Would you like to come to us? You’ve been to our house before, haven’t you?’
‘Would your husband be there?’
‘Would you rather he weren’t?’
‘I suppose he knows?’
‘He knows, yes.’
‘Do the-?’ Morland broke off. Clearly he was going to ask whether the police knew too, since in the end that was what really mattered. He was probably clinging to the hope that he might be able to strike some kind of a bargain with Antonia. ‘I will be with you in about an hour,’ he said tonelessly.
Despite herself, Antonia felt sorry for him. She believed that girl had led him on. Still, he was the adult. He should have known better. A fifteen-year-old girl.
There was such a thing as self-control.
She hadn’t seen him since the evening of Melisande’s birthday party at Kinderhook and she wondered whether she would have recognized him if she bumped into him in the street. Probably not – not unless he reminded her where they’d met and who he was.
At the party he had looked florid and festive in his Paisley-patterned tie. He hadn’t said anything remotely interesting, certainly nothing memorable. Blissfully uncomplicated, Hugh had said. Devoid of hidden depths. He was a recognizable type. One saw chaps like James Morland at superior gentlemen’s clubs – dozing at board meetings – taking their time over the wine list at expensive restaurants, usually in the company of a horsey lady – watching a cricket match at Lord’s, Pimm’s in hand, a white panama on their head, their face the colour of ripe tomato.
He looked different now.
He had lost weight and his expensive tweed jacket hung loosely on him. A candy-striped silk handkerchief stuck out of his breast pocket. His face was extremely pale and haggard as though with lack of sleep. Gone was the ruddy hue. He didn’t seem to have had a haircut recently. He hadn’t shaved either. In a funny kind of way he looked younger, raffish, somewhat dissolute. His eyes were bright, feverish.
‘Would you like some tea or coffee?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Won’t you sit down?’
He sat on the sofa, making it creak. He was still a heavy man. She glanced at his hands. Big, well-tended hands ‘Why did you pay my bill at the hotel?’ Morland spoke without preamble. He was staring at the floor. Keeping custody of his eyes like a nun, Antonia thought incongruously. ‘What business was it of yours?’ He sounded a little breathless.
‘It was none of my business, you are right.’ She remained standing, giving herself, she reflected, an advantage of sorts.
‘You had no right to meddle in my affairs. No right at all.’ His voice rose slightly. ‘My private life is my own.’
Antonia walked slowly away from the sofa and stood beside the window. She hoped he wouldn’t make a scene. Hugh would be down any moment now. Not that she feared Morland would try to assault her. Still, she would feel safer with Hugh in the room.
‘I wouldn’t have gone to the Corrida Hotel,’ she said, ‘if it hadn’t been for Stella’s murder.’
‘You think – the two are connected? The hotel and the murder?’
‘I believe they are… Not the hotel as such-’ Antonia broke off. ‘There has been a second murder.’
This time he looked at her. ‘What second murder?’
‘Winifred Willard was killed yesterday at the Villa Byzantine.’
‘Winifred? Melisande’s sister? Are you serious?’
‘We saw the body.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ He shook his head. ‘Melisande would have told me about it. She would have telephoned me. You are lying.’
‘Melisande has been admitted to hospital. She’s had a nervous breakdown. Didn’t you know?’
‘I don’t believe you. You are lying,’ he said again. ‘What gave you the idea I’d stayed at the Corrida Hotel?’
‘You dropped a receipt the first time you came here. It was headed “The Corrida Hotel, Earls Court”. You had paid for a room, a bottle of champagne and a can of Red Bull. I thought it an unusual combination. I didn’t think you were the kind of man who would drink champagne with Red Bull. Actually, you didn’t seem to know what Red Bull was when it was mentioned – don’t you remember? At Melisande’s birthday party?’
‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’
‘I am sure you do. For some reason the combination of a corrida and a bull stuck in my mind. Then – then I suddenly remembered that at that same party Stella’s daughter went into a sulk because there was no Red Bull among the drinks on offer.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Red Bull again, see? The champagne was for you, the Red Bull for Moon, correct? A bit later several other things clicked into place-’
Antonia paused as her husband, looking extremely smart in a dark blue blazer and very dark grey trousers, sauntered into the room. She felt herself relaxing. She had no doubt that Hugh would be equal to knocking Morland out should the latter decide to turn nasty at some point in the proceedings.
Major Payne gave an amiable nod in the direction of their visitor and mimed to Antonia, as though to say, Carry on, carry on, don’t mind me, it’s your pigeon. He then stood beside the cocktail cabinet in a posture that brought to mind a fielder in a cricket match alert for the ball. She saw him glance at Morland’s hands. Was Hugh considering the possibility of their visitor launching a sudden attack?
‘When I was at your sister’s – you were at the zoo at the time – Julia received a phone call. The call came from the Corrida Hotel. Apparently,’ Antonia said, ‘there was something wrong with your card. A sum that needed to be paid. The Corrida Hotel again, you see? And then Julia mentioned the fact that you were moving out – that you had bought a Regency house in Chelsea. You’d told her you and Moon were going to live together?’
‘These are private matters. Julia had no business to talk about it to you,’ Morland said stiffly.
‘You had hinted that you intended to adopt Moon. Julia thought Moon might be your biological daughter. I suspect you encouraged the notion. It made any apparent closeness acceptable. What more natural than a father and daughter sharing a house together after the mother’s tragic death?’ Antonia paused, but he remained silent. ‘Julia said something else, which also fitted in with the theory that had started forming in my mind. She told me that Stella had commented on the fact that – that-’
Payne cleared his throat. ‘Care for a drink, Morland? Or is it too early?’
‘No, nothing.’ Morland glared at Antonia. ‘What had Stella been commenting on?’
