The Death of Corinne

6

Murder on Safari

‘Good lord,’ Major Payne said, remembering. ‘Corinne’s parents died some horrid death, didn’t they?’

Lady Grylls agreed that indeed it had been horrid. It wasn’t the kind of end one would have wished to one’s bitterest enemies. Too horrid for words.

‘What happened?’ Antonia asked again.

Lady Grylls started lighting another cigarette. Her hand shook a little and her face became mottled. Well, Ruse and le falcon had been killed in Africa… Killed, yes… Killed and mutilated. They had gone to Kenya on a safari. That had been surprising since neither of them was a great traveller, Ruse always said she was no good in the heat, and it wasn’t as though Africa was famous for its casinos, was it? Lady Grylls would have understood it, if they’d gone to Las Vegas or some such place… Thank God they hadn’t taken Corinne with them. They had ignored the warnings about the notorious criminal gang operating in the area where they had chosen to stay. In their second or third week they had left the hotel in a hired jeep.

‘They were never seen alive again. There was a search and their bodies were found, or rather what was left of them. It seems wild beasts had devoured most of them. They had been terribly mangled, unrecognizable, or so they said… Don’t let’s talk about it.’

There was a pause. Neither of them was a great traveller… Ruse always said she was no good in the heat… Curious, Antonia thought. Or am I being ridiculously fanciful? Why do I always notice things like that? ‘Who identified them?’ she asked.

‘Who identified them? Goodness, my dear – you don’t think -’ Lady Grylls shook her head. ‘They were identified by Madame Coreille. Le falcon’s mother. She flew over to Kenya. She was a tough old bird, one of the leading psychoanalysts in France at the time, but what she saw shook her up. She told me about it later. She decided to have the mortal remains buried there, in Kenya. I do hope it was a bullet or a knife that killed them first.’ Lady Grylls paused. ‘The news found its way into the British press. I believe I collected every scrap of information there was about the case.’

Antonia asked, ‘Have you kept your scrapbooks?’

Lady Grylls pushed her glasses up her nose and said she was not sure. ‘I may have thrown them away. I burnt an awful lot of stuff over Christmas. Had a big bonfire made… So much rubbish everywhere… Or they are lying somewhere, gathering dust. I don’t know. At the bottom of some trunk most likely. By the way, Hughie – that stool Peverel wants so much – it’s not a real Pugin, is it?’

‘They used to be in the library,’ Payne said.

‘I mustn’t drop ash in the saucer – why doesn’t someone tell me off? Provost hates it when I do. Where’s the damned ashtray?’ Lady Grylls peered round in an abstracted manner.

She seemed reluctant to divulge the true whereabouts of her scrapbooks. Emphatically vague, Antonia decided – and she wondered as to the reason.

Payne said, ‘Corinne was badly affected by her parents’ death, wasn’t she?’

‘She was… terribly affected. Poor thing. She was twelve when it happened. They tried to keep her in the dark but it slipped out somehow. She’d gone to live with her grandmother. Madame Coreille came into a lot of money about that time and she opened her own clinic. I don’t think she gambled. Some kind of inheritance. Rory was of the opinion that the bloody Frenchwoman would only succeed in messing the gel up completely.’

‘How bad was the trauma?’ Antonia asked – though what she really wanted to know was the exact provenance of Madame Coreille’s good fortune.

‘Bad enough… Corinne read the story of her parents’ death in some ghastly gossip rag – Ici Paris, I think. A magazine. Isn’t it odd that the French have no tabloid papers, only gossip magazines? Eaten Alive. Some such ghastly headline. The shock was so severe that Corinne lost her power of speech. She stopped eating – became extremely withdrawn. That went on for some time. Corinne didn’t seem to respond to any kind of treatment. Madame Coreille had tried analysis – she was at her wits’ end. Then, one day, something very strange happened. Can you -’

‘Corinne started singing?’

‘You are a dangerous woman, Antonia – nothing ever escapes you! Yes. Corinne started singing. Madame Coreille thought at first it was somebody on the wireless. She imagined it was Piaf or somebody. You see, Corinne had never sung before. She’d never shown any particular interest in music either. It was an extraordinary voice. Pure and light – like a bell. Puissant, I think was the word Madame Coreille used. She phoned me that same evening. A couple of days later I flew to Paris. I knew what she meant the moment Corinne opened her mouth. It was quite extraordinary.’

‘I believe I’ve heard the story before,’ Payne said. ‘You thought she sang like an angel. It made you blub.’

‘Don’t scoff, Hughie. You sound like Peverel when you do. Corinne did sing like an angel. And I did blub. Yes. It was a very special kind of voice… The more she sang the more her health improved. Madame Coreille hired a private music tutor for her, who was astounded and predicted that before long Corinne would have toute la France at her feet. Well, it happened seven years later. I was in Paris, sitting in the TV studio, next to Madame Coreille, watching Corinne appear on Jeu de la Chance.’

‘What game of chance is that?’ Antonia asked.

‘The show that discovers and promotes new singing talent. I think they still have it. I am sure you are familiar with the kind of thing? Fame Academy – Pop Idol. Don’t you watch them?’ Lady Grylls breathed incredulously as Antonia’s face remained blank.

‘My wife’s viewing habits are uncompromisingly intellectual,’ Payne said. ‘She rarely watches the box and when she does, it’s only carefully selected programmes.’

‘Really? How very interesting. My dear Antonia, you don’t know what you’ve been missing. I wonder if it’s to do with you -’ Lady Grylls broke off. ‘What they have on Pop Idol is a lot of singularly talentless young people wearing extraordinary clothes, posturing and squawking in the most incredible manner. When they lose, they start crying. Such fun!’

Antonia found herself puzzling over what her aunt by marriage had been going to say. I wonder if it’s to do with you – What? Being middle class?

‘Of course Corinne was a completely different kettle of fish. There was a collective gasp the moment she opened her mouth,’ Lady Grylls went on. ‘She sang two little-known Piaf songs. “La Fille de Joie” and “L’Homme Qui…” something or other. The man who – no, can’t remember.’

‘Qui m’aime?’ Payne suggested. ‘Qui m’assassine?’

‘Don’t be silly, Hughie. Anyhow. That launched her singi ng career. She was an instant hit. Never looked back. The whole of France voted for her. She got every single vote. They said General de Gaulle was one of the callers. Mr Lark took the next plane from America. He had watched the show on TV. He offered his services, was accepted and took control of Corinne’s career. He made sure Corinne was showered with offers. Olympia – Carnegie Hall. The rest, as they say, is history.’

There was a pause. ‘Was there ever a man in her life?’ Antonia asked.

‘No. I don’t think so. I don’t think she’s ever had a romance.’ Lady Grylls sighed. ‘Poor gel.’

‘No boyfriends?’

‘No. Nothing serious at any rate. She was too busy singing.’

‘Mr Lark. I seem to remember a rumour,’ Payne said. ‘Wasn’t there something between them?’

‘I may be wrong,’ Lady Grylls said, ‘but I don’t think she’s ever had an intimate relationship with a man. No, no girlfriends either. Out of the question. One simply doesn’t think of Corinne in those terms. Isn’t that extraordinary?’

‘Oh, but you are wrong. A lot of people do think of Corinne in those terms,’ a man’s voice said. ‘You’d be amazed.’