Barry Maitland: Dark Mirror

‘But how exactly can I help you?’

‘I wondered if I could meet you briefly in the next day or two, perhaps over a cup of tea, Lady Warrender.’

‘Oh, I really don’t think that would be a good idea. Things have been said, you know, people upset. Sophie is very touchy about it. This is a very tense time for us all.’

‘Of course, I do understand.’ The old woman sounded so stern, and Suzanne tried in vain to think of some way to mollify her. It had been a bad idea approaching her like this.

‘Perhaps if you gave me some idea of what it’s about?’

‘Well, I happened to meet another old friend recently, Angela Crick, who used to live next door to you, remember?’

‘Yes?’ Joan sounded bemused.

Suzanne ploughed on. ‘She told me a story that your nephew Jack had told her, all those years ago, about something that happened in India when you were living there, to do with Dougie.’

‘In India? About Dougie? Good Lord, what sort of story?’

‘Well, it wasn’t very nice, and I’m sure it was completely untrue, but I thought it might be a good thing if I could talk it over with you, and get to the bottom of it, so that I could get back to Angela and put her right. I didn’t like the idea of her repeating it to anyone else.’

Suzanne heard a little gasp from the other end, and imagined the old woman sinking onto the chair in the hall beside the telephone, trying to gather her wits.

‘I’m sorry, Lady Warrender. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sure I can take care of it myself.’

‘But… no, if it concerns Dougie… Have you spoken to him?’

‘I thought it best to speak to you first.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right. Oh dear. Very well, let’s meet. Not here at the house, and not in a cafe either-I can’t hear anything in places like that any more. Meet me at the churchyard of St John’s, just up the hill from us. I often walk up there for a little exercise. Tomorrow? Shall we say eleven?’

•

First thing that morning Kathy checked the passenger lists of both airline and private flights between London, Nice and Bastia for the months of February, March and April-something, she told herself, she should have done weeks ago. She established that Douglas and Sophie Warrender alone had travelled out on the tenth of March, returning on the sixth of April.

Impatient as she was to follow this up, she couldn’t get out of a scheduled team meeting, and sat through it barely concentrating on the briefing about a new computer system. When it was finally over she picked up the phone and dialled the number of the Warrenders’ house. Sophie’s secretary Rhonda answered.

‘I’m afraid Sophie’s out this morning, Inspector, working in the library.’

‘Ah. Is Emily with her?’

‘No, she’s at home. Do you want to speak to her?’

‘No need to disturb her. Actually it would be better if I spoke to her in person. I’ll come over right away.’

Bren tried to intercept her on her way out, but she put him off. She would have found it hard to explain the sense of urgency she felt. Rather than wait for a car from the pool, she caught a passing cab, and made good time to Lansdowne Gardens.

‘That was quick.’ Rhonda opened the front door to let Kathy in, then hesitated. ‘After you rang off I wondered if this was wise.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Emily’s really not very well at the moment, in fact she’s still in bed, and Sophie’s very protective. She probably wouldn’t approve of you interviewing Emily with neither her nor Lady Joan here in the house.’

‘Well, let’s ask Emily, shall we? She is eighteen, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, and I’m sure it would be all right, but…’

Kathy sensed something equivocal in Rhonda’s voice, as if she didn’t want to be accused of wrongdoing, but at the same time wanted to help.

‘Were you here at all during the month Sophie was away, Rhonda?’

‘Yes, I came in each day and kept an eye on the decorators and reported on progress to Sophie from time to time.’

‘Was Emily here?’

‘Yes, she and Lady Joan didn’t want to go to Corsica, so they stayed here, more or less camping in their rooms in the middle of all the mess. Emily was helping Marion with her research most days, and Joan got out in the garden when she could. Look, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you wait in the office, and I’ll tell Emily you’re here?’

‘Fair enough.’

Kathy walked down the short corridor to the room at the end where Rhonda and Sophie worked. The tall sash windows filled it with light, and the shelves of books gave it the appearance more of an elegant library than an office. She was examining the books on Sophie’s desk when Rhonda returned.

‘We’re considering Alice Kipling for the next book, after Janey Morris is done with,’ she said. ‘Rudyard’s wife, one of the MacDonald sisters. Her sister Georgiana was married to the Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones and got very chummy with William Morris, commiserating over the fact that both their spouses were unfaithful.’

‘All these Victorians seem to be interconnected,’ Kathy said.

Rhonda laughed. ‘Too right, you need a bloody good database to sort them all out.’

‘Lovely room to work in.’

‘Yes. Have you been up to the belvedere yet?’ She nodded to the spiral staircase in the corner.

‘No. Is it interesting?’

‘I think so.’ She said it with an emphasis that made Kathy pause. ‘Why don’t you pop up now? Emily’s getting dressed.’

‘Okay.’

She mounted the stairs, arriving in the corner of the square tower room which Joan’s husband Roger had converted into his eyrie. The original owner of the house had an interest in astronomy, and built it as an open loggia to house his telescopes, but Roger had enclosed it, leaving narrow windows in each of the corners with views out over Notting Hill, and with timber bookcases and a desk filling the walls between. The room had a lingering smell of cigar smoke, which had thoroughly permeated the wood. The ceiling and floor were both polished timber, so that the room had the feeling of a large cigar box.

Kathy sat in the red leather antique office chair, feeling the snug fit of the room around her, a sanctuary for contemplation. A thick leather-bound tome lay on the desk in front of her, and she read the title in gold letters on the front, British Pharmaceutical Codex.

There was a place marker, a piece of folded, stained paper, and when Kathy opened the book and removed the paper she found that it was a piece of old wallpaper, faded green in colour, with a pattern of swirling leaves. It marked a section headed with the title Arsenic.

She read for a moment, then heard feet on the stairs behind her. She turned to see Emily’s pale face appear.

‘What are you doing?’ The girl reached the top of the stair and took in the open book on the desk, the unfolded piece of wallpaper. ‘Oh!’ She bit her lip. ‘I put that away! How…?’

Kathy held her eyes, saying nothing, and suddenly Emily gave a little wail. ‘You know, don’t you? You know!’ Tears started from her eyes and she sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself, and began to sob.

•

Suzanne found Joan waiting on a seat in a quiet shady spot at the side of the church. She was wearing an overcoat and hat against the cool breeze, and had a large bag on her knee.

‘Ah, there you are,’ she cried, and Suzanne shook her hand and sat beside her.

‘Thank you so much for agreeing to see me. I did feel awkward about approaching you.’

‘Yes, well, in view of Sophie’s sensitivity on the subject, I think it best if we don’t mention it to anyone.’

‘Yes, but you see, it was because of those sensitivities that I thought I should talk to you about this.’