The Death of Corinne (11 page)

14

The Secret History

Lord Redesdale denies being a fascist . . . King Farouk
’
s young
daughter sends chocolates to Princess Elizabeth and Princess
Margaret . . . Mrs Charles Sweeney falls forty feet down empty
lift-shaft . . . Was Mr Somerset Maugham a spy? . . . The Hon.
Jessica Gerrad
’
s Lagonda stolen . . . Lady Mosley released from
Holloway prison
.

There were pictures cut from the
Illustrated London News
. They were brittle, crinkly and yellow with age.
Dashing
debs: Miss Rosamund Cadogan and best friend the Hon. Anelie
de Broke presented at court
. Well, Corinne’s mother was exactly as Lady Grylls had described her: a proud beauty, head held high, almond-shaped eyes, dark and long-legged, wearing a most revealing dress. Lady Grylls had denigrated her own appearance, but she wasn’t bad-looking either. Somewhat on the plump side, true, but not unattractively so – she might have posed for Rubens. Lots of men liked that type, Antonia reflected. She had a lovely heart-shaped face, luxuriant blonde hair and a sweet shy smile. She had taken her horn-rimmed glasses off for the picture and was clutching them in her hand. There was something endearing about it.

Mrs George Keppel buried under cypress trees in Protestant
Cemetery in Florence . . . Lady Docker
’
s jewels stolen . . . M.
Fran
ç
ois-Enrique Coreille and Miss Anelie de Broke dining at
the Caf
é de Paris in Coventry Street. M. Fran
ç
ois-Enrique and
Miss Rosamund (
‘
Ruse
’
) Cadogan dining at the Savoy
.

Le falcon
– if one had to call him that – did look devastatingly charming and was, in all probability, utterly rotten. Ruse was gazing at him in an adoring manner. She was wearing a shimmering sleeveless dress. Her arms blazed with diamond bracelets from wrist to elbow and she sported a striking brooch on her bosom: two ostriches attached, back-to-back, Siamese-twin fashion. It was the kind of brooch Mrs Simpson had favoured, Antonia thought.

Greta Garbo in England: ‘Please to leave me alone’ . . . Lord
Grylls to marry the Hon. Anelie de Broke . . . Where did Mrs
Vicary go after the charity ball?

Antonia opened the second scrapbook.
Sir Winston
Churchill and new friend Aristotle Socrates Onassis
. The two famous men were shown wearing yachting caps and smoking monstrously long cigars. Antonia gazed across at her husband. ‘I bet you don’t know what Onassis’s second name was?’

‘I do. Socrates. I know all sorts of silly and pointless things, I keep telling you.’

‘How many gardeners did it take to paint the roses red in
Alice
?’

‘Three.’

‘Is there really such a thing as “lion’s powder” or did you make that up?’

‘There is. You can get it at Harrods. You throw it in the lion’s face and the brute sneezes its head off, after which he leaves you alone. The Sardauna of Sokoto has a standing order for it . . . You don’t believe me? What
are
you looking for?’ Payne went round the table and stood beside Antonia. He took her hand and tried to kiss her on the lips. ‘I know that bloodhound look . . .’ He glanced down at the open scrapbook. ‘
Fancy dress party at the Casanova Club:
Princess Margrethe of Denmark as Red Riding Hood, Mr
Dominic Elwes as American Cowboy
. . . What would
you
look like,’ he murmured, ‘dressed up as Red Riding Hood?’ He put his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

‘I’d look ridiculous . . .
Stop
it, Hugh. What would your aunt say if she were to come in now?’

‘She would applaud. Aunt Nellie likes her males red-blooded and alpha-amorous . . .’

Antonia managed to turn another page. ‘There it is. I’ve found it!
Couple abducted in Kenya . . . 13th May 1960.
Monsieur and Madame Coreille
–’

‘Good lord.’ Payne relaxed his embrace. ‘
Af
fl
uent Anglo-
French couple
. . . Corinne’s parents. So that’s what you were looking for!’

‘Yes . . .
Travelling on their own . . . Ventured into hazardous
areas . . . Proliferation of dangerous gangs . . . Several abductions
already. A Dutch couple disappeared only the week before
. . . Foreign embassies had issued warnings. The Coreilles refused
the services of a local guide . . . Last seen leaving the Royal
Mombasa hotel in hired jeep. Jeep later discovered abandoned . . .
Ransom note delivered at hotel early next morning . . . Half a
million dollars requested for their release . . . Ultimatum given
–
both die if demands not met . . . Police warned not to take
action if the Coreilles are to live . . . Police believe threat to be
serious. Previous abductions of Western tourists ending in
tragedy . . . Coreille relatives in England and France contacted
. . . Shocking discovery . . . Bodies found by passing Masai
farmer
–’

‘Gosh,’ Payne said quietly. ‘They didn’t wait, did they? That’s only two days later!’

‘Yes . . .
Bodies horribly mangled
–
unrecognizable
–
severe
mutilations
–
PM to be held . . . Clothes, personal items and
passports in name of Monsieur and Madame Coreille
–
relatives
in England and in France noti
fi
ed . . . The police searching
for clues
.’

‘What paper is that?’

‘The
Evening Post
.’ Antonia went on reading, ‘
The late
Monsieur Coreille was in the news recently in connection with
an investigation conducted by French police into his affairs. As
we reported earlier, large sums of money belonging to clients of
the
fi
rm where he was one of the trustees had been disappearing.
The total sum amounts to four hundred and ninety-
fi
ve thousand
pounds. The investigation continues although it is doubtful
whether any of the money will ever be recovered
–’

Antonia looked up as the door opened. ‘Gotcha!’ Lady Grylls’s triumphant bassoon was heard. As she entered, her eyes fixed on the scrapbook in Antonia’s hands.

Lady Grylls’s face was extremely flushed and her eyes were bright behind her glasses. She appeared to be in suspiciously high spirits. ‘That young man’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant. You should have seen the way he put Peverel in his place! I didn’t hear what he told him exactly, but it knocked the wind out of Peverel’s sails good and proper. He whispered something to him. I was smoking, you see, flicking ash everywhere. As you know, Peverel always has something to say when that happens, but this time he didn’t. Dumbstruck!’

‘Did he tell you what it was he said to Peverel?’ Antonia asked.

‘No, but he promised he’d tell me later. We’d gone into Peverel’s room – part of the security checks, you know. Such fun, poking under beds and things – raising clouds of dust – we kept sneezing and coughing. I could have died of shame – made me feel like a dirty old woman!’ Lady Grylls laughed raucously. ‘I do need to have Chalfont spring-cleaned one of these days, but there’s never enough money in the kitty!’ She laughed again. ‘Who was it who said, I don’t drink to excess, I drink to
everything
?’

Major Payne raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘Of course I am all right. Never felt better. Silly question. You don’t seem to understand, Hughie. I smoked in Peverel’s room – his very private sanctum – and
he didn
’
t
say a word
. Didn’t even give me one of his looks. He seemed jolly discomfited by what Andrew said to him.’

‘Andrew?’

‘You wouldn’t believe this, but Peverel ceased to be his usual superior self and became rather meek and mild, like the proverbial lamb. I’ve never seen him look like that! Never! Extraordinary. I must say I like Andrew enormously. A splendid young man.’

‘Do you mean Jonson?’

‘We can’t go on calling him Jonson. Mr Jonson is even worse. Ridiculous. By the way, I asked him to stay.’

Payne put his head to one side. ‘Darling, do correct me if I am wrong, but have you been drinking?’

‘The merest drop of Amontillado –’

‘Not Uncle Rory’s Amontillado!’

‘Don’t be a bore, Hughie. Of course it was Rory’s Amontillado. It’s more than a hundred and fifty years old –’

‘Precisely!’

‘We needed to celebrate the successful completion of the security checks and the fact we found no madman,’ Lady Grylls explained calmly. ‘Andrew had been planning to get a room at the local hotel. Those had been Corinne’s instructions, he said, but as you know the local hotel is a ghastly hole, not the kind of place where splendid young men stay, so I wouldn’t hear of it. I gave him a clean toothbrush and a pair of Rory’s pyjamas. I am sure he’ll be snug as a bug in them.’ Lady Grylls pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘Now then, Antonia. Have you found what you were looking for?’ She crossed to the table and looked down at the open scrapbook.

‘
Le falcon
and Ruse . . . Look at that brooch! It’s magnificent, isn’t it? I gave it to her.’ Lady Grylls tapped a page. ‘Cost me a pretty penny. Cartier’s . . . There’s me with
le
falcon
at the Café de Paris. Look at my dress – studded with diamonds – see how it glitters? My figure wasn’t really bad then. If I wore something like that nowadays, I’d look like a spray-flecked seal . . . The way the falcon’s eyeing me!’ Suddenly Lady Grylls became serious. ‘Wasn’t that what you were looking for, Antonia? I did give myself away, didn’t I? Well, this is not the only picture of us together. There are others. There’s one of him kissing me on the steps of the Savoy.’ She started leafing through the scrapbook. ‘It’s somewhere – I don’t think I’ve thrown anything away.’

There was a stunned pause. ‘You don’t mean you and him . . .’ Major Payne began.

‘I do mean me and him, Hughie.
Le falcon
and I saw quite a bit of each other – both before and
after
he’d got engaged to Ruse. There was quite a thing between us. I’d always wanted to know why Linda fell for Fabrice, you see. I mean
The Pursuit of Love
. Or Lady Donna for the Frenchman in the creek. Goodness. My head was full of that kind of romantic bosh . . . Don’t stare like that. It was all a long time ago. François-Enrique was double-crossing Ruse with me. I can’t say I am sorry. In a way I was glad . . . Wasn’t that what you wanted to find out, Antonia?’ A defiant note had crept into Lady Grylls’s voice.

‘No. It was – it was something else,’ Antonia faltered.

‘Are you sure? You
are
a dangerous woman.’

‘Not at all –’

‘Well, I might as well tell you the whole story. I was in love with the falcon. No.
I was mad about him
. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I loved him. The way he looked at me! Ah. I’d got it into my head that I was on my way to becoming a dowdy back number, you see, but he made me feel – goodness, I can’t explain – as though he were inspecting one of those jewellers’ trays on which famous diamonds are displayed! I’d have done
anything
for him. If he’d told me, here’s a gun, go and shoot the Prime Minister, I’d have gone and done it. I honestly would have. Mr Attlee would have been a dead man. So would Mr Churchill.’ Lady Grylls sounded disturbingly earnest. ‘So, for that matter, would Mr Eden –’

‘Darling – not
three
prime ministers. It lasted that long?’

‘Well, our affair started while he was courting Ruse. And we continued seeing each other after he and Ruse got married and went to Paris. Rory hadn’t an inkling . . . Such a fool!’ She guffawed. ‘
Le falcon
came to London often, on business trips. I lived for those visits. I paid a price of course . . . The usual . . . I don’t know why I am telling you any of this. None of your bloody business.’

‘You don’t mean you got . . .’

‘Preggers? I did, Hughie.’

‘Corinne is your –’

‘Don’t be absurd, Antonia.’

‘
Not
Cousin Patricia?’

‘Well spotted, Hughie. My daughter Patricia. My first-born child was his. I fear so – yes. She’s got his eyes – yellow grey. And his fatal passion for gambling, sadly.’

‘Did Rosamund know?’

‘She didn’t know about Patricia, I don’t think, but if you mean about her husband having an affair with me, yes. Ruse saw a photograph of us in the
Tatler
. She saw the look on François-Enrique’s face. Then she asked me point blank and I confessed . . . I don’t think she quite minded.’ Lady Grylls scowled. ‘You see, she knew that he would never leave her. She knew her power. She was so damnably cocky about it. I did hate her for it. Oh well. It’s all in the past now . . . Goodness, I do feel light-headed. I’ll go and have a lie-down. Do excuse me.’

The door slammed shut behind her. There was a pause. Payne looked at his wife. ‘Well! What do you think of that?’

Antonia shrugged. ‘As she said, it’s none of our bloody business.’

There was another pause. Payne pointed to the scrapbook. ‘You don’t think Ruse and François-Enrique really died, do you?’

‘It’s just an idea . . . In the months leading up to their tragic death, François-Enrique had been under investigation for stealing half a million from his clients. A very,
very
large sum of money in 1960 –’

‘They had been mangled by wild beasts. Unrecognizable, that’s what it said in the paper, didn’t it?’ Payne paused. ‘The bodies were identified by his mother. She went to Kenya. She then decided to have them buried there. Soon after she opened her own clinic, I remember Aunt Nellie telling me. It costs a pretty penny to open a clinic. Aunt Nellie thinks Madame Coreille got some kind of inheritance – but what if there wasn’t an inheritance? The money could have been –’