Murder at the Villa Byzantine

20

Sorry, Wrong Number

‘What did you make of Stella?’ Antonia asked. ‘Did you like her?’

‘No, not particularly, if I have to be perfectly honest. I found her irritating – intrusive. She came over to talk to me each time something went wrong between her and Moon. She didn’t seem to realize that I could be busy. She was entirely wrapped up in herself. She tended not to listen when I talked, but she expected me to give up whatever I was doing and pay very close attention to her jeremiads.’

‘She complained about Moon?’

‘Yes. She frequently felt hurt by her daughter. Moon couldn’t talk to her save with a gibe and sneer. Moon kept calling her the most offensive names – “lardy lump” – “brainless baba” – clearly terrible insults for a woman who regarded herself as the most marriageable of belles! Moon had jeered at her for “picking up” James. She had suggested her mother was “gagging for it”. She had referred to her poetry as “shit”. And so on and so forth. Terrible bore.’

‘How did Stella meet your brother?’ Antonia asked.

‘It was Moon who brought them together. That, at any rate, was Stella’s version of the event. James had lost his way in Sofia where he was on a business trip. He bumped into Moon and asked for directions and she took him to the cafe where her mother had been waiting for her. Some such rigmarole.’ Julia waved a dismissive hand. ‘You’d met Stella, hadn’t you?’

‘Yes. At Melisande’s party.’

‘Stella confided her most intimate fears in me. Things I didn’t really want to hear.’ Julia grimaced. ‘She seemed to find poor James terriblement anglais and it bothered her. No, she didn’t quite put it like that. A little too reserved, a little too “English”, was what she said. She moved into his flat at his suggestion, but nothing much actually happened between them, she said. No “real intimacy”. She seemed to have mixed feelings about it. She seemed to find James’ restraint at once flattering and frustrating.’

‘Is that how she put it?’

‘Not quite. That was my interpretation. Stella talked a lot about “respect” and “consideration” and how “gentlemanly” James was, but at the same time she made it clear she’d rather things were a little bit more – you know. She was maddeningly prudish. She went on about the importance of “personal warmth” and “affection” and “passion” in one’s life. She was particularly emphatic about “passion”. Passion was “essential” for her poetry.’

‘I expect she was looking forward to the wedding?’

‘She was. She was excited about it, but she was also worried that James might change his mind and abandon her at the altar. She didn’t believe she could survive the humiliation and the pain, she said. She feared that her daughter might do something that would blight her chances of conjugal bliss for ever. There were other things as well.’ Julia frowned. ‘Stella seemed to have developed some peculiar phobia concerning Melisande – but she never explained exactly what it was all about.’

‘She didn’t drop any hints?’

‘No. She was probably afraid I might spill the beans to Melisande

… Morbid undercurrents seemed to be part of Stella’s nature. She went on moody, listless rambles in Kensington Gardens. She seemed prone to tormenting anxieties of all sorts. On one occasion she actually said, “Oh, how good I am at finding things to worry about!” She seemed to believe she had cancer.’

‘Oh yes. She suspected she had a tumour on the brain. She said she was afraid of having a scan.’

‘Once or twice she told me it would be so much better for everybody if she ended her life. Her exact words, if I remember correctly, were, “Sometimes death comes not as an enemy but as a friend.”’

‘Do you think she might have been contemplating suicide?’ Antonia wondered if that could be a possible answer. The assisted suicide solution. Stella might have been unable to bring herself to do the deed and got someone else to help her – paid them – people did do that sort of thing. Would the person have used a sword though? It was a very bizarre idea. And why do it at the Villa Byzantine?

‘I didn’t really believe she would kill herself. I thought it was nothing worse than flirting with self-destruction.’

‘Did you by any chance see her the day she died?’

‘No. But she’d talked to me the day before. She floated in, wearing swirling white crepe, high-necked, with scattered crystal new moons and stars. It was beyond ghastly. Try to imagine an inflated Titania. I tried not to look shocked. It was going to be her wedding dress, she said. She expected me to admire it – which I did.’

‘So she was in a good mood?’

‘Yes! She’d thought of a way of making her peace with Moon, she said. She and Moon had had their first decent conversation in ages and that had made her very happy. She told me she had a plan.’

‘What kind of a plan?’

Julia shook her head and said she had no idea. Stella had been terribly mysterious about it. ‘I am afraid I was not paying much attention. I was in a hurry. I was about to go out. I got the impression that the plan involved Stella doing something Moon was extremely keen on. She didn’t say what it was, but I think she hinted that there was risk involved.’

‘Risk?’

‘Yes. Some irregularity.’ Julia waved her hand. ‘Oh, it was all terribly garbled.’

Suddenly Antonia had a very clear idea in her head as to what Stella had been planning to do. Her heart beat fast. She felt certain she was right.

‘Did Stella talk about her visits to the Villa Byzantine?’

‘About her sessions with the royal biographer fellow? She did. I must admit I was never particularly interested. I believe something happened there, at the Villa Byzantine, which unsettled her – some woman she had met at Vane’s house, who wasn’t who she claimed.’

Soon after, Antonia rose to her feet.

‘No, no, it’s been no trouble at all, Miss Darcy. I enjoyed our chat. You must come again. I will tell Moon that you called, or would you rather I didn’t?’

‘That’s all right. Give her my regards.’

They walked out into the hall.

‘I will. You aren’t driving, are you?’

‘No. I came by tube. I’d like to go for a walk in Kensington Gardens… Such a pleasant day, isn’t it?’

The telephone rang and Julia picked it up. She grimaced apologetically at Antonia.

‘Julia Henderson speaking. No, this is not the Corrida Hotel- Oh, you are the Corrida Hotel! Sorry!’ She laughed. ‘Yes? Problem over a credit card? Whose card? What are you talking about? Sorry, you must have got the wrong number. I have never stayed at the Corrida Hotel in my life-’

Antonia stood gazing idly at a framed photograph that was on the little round table beside the telephone.

‘Oh, that’s my brother! James Morland is my brother. Sorry. His phone number is the same as mine but for the last digit. Zero instead of nine. Yes. My number ends in nine, his in zero.’ She rolled her eyes at Antonia. ‘My brother lives next door. He is out at the moment. I will tell him to get in touch with you the moment he comes back.’ She put down the receiver. ‘So sorry. This happens all the time. I get phone calls from people who want to speak to James. Same number but for the last digit. Well, he’s moving out next month, so I hope there won’t be many more calls.’

‘Moving out?’

‘Yes. He’s bought a place in Chelsea. A small Regency house. He’s intent on playing father to Moon.’ Julia Henderson sighed. ‘He told me he wanted to devote himself to Moon’s upbringing and education. He talks about hiring private tutors and so on. Apparently she is terribly clever. Did you find her clever?’

‘As clever as a bag of ferrets. That’s how my husband put it… That’s you in the photograph, isn’t it?’ Antonia pointed. ‘I am always fascinated by people who take golf seriously. Especially women.’

‘Oh dear. My Surrey past is catching up with me. Don’t I look ridiculous in that little cap? Actually I don’t take golf at all seriously. I don’t know why I keep that silly photo there. I’ve been meaning to put it away.’

The photograph showed a somewhat younger Julia Henderson wearing a golfing outfit, holding a golf club aloft and beaming triumphantly at the camera.

Underneath her name in careful script was written: Ladies County Golf Champion 1999.