The Death of Corinne

29

Beauty and the Beast

‘Correct. That’s why Jonson suddenly relaxed. Jonson knows their secret and for some reason he is extremely protective of it. At first he thought the cat was out of the bag, but then realized that we’d been thinking of the wrong mother and daughter. Not of Corinne and her daughter, but of Ruse and Corinne.’

Payne said, ‘We skipped a generation.’

‘Corinne’s little finger is as long as her index finger. Peverel told us about it – that bizarre detail has been mentioned on one of the websites devoted to her. I noticed it in the greenhouse this morning, when I stood looking at Maginot’s body. Then there’s Corinne’s odd penchant for authoritarian figures. Napoleon – Miss Mountjoy. Corinne did enjoy playing the nagging dragon.’

‘Yes… It might be said that from the very start there was a Maitre Maginot lodged somewhere deep inside her consciousness – screaming to be let out.’

‘Both Miss Mountjoy and Maitre Maginot wore turbans and they liked to boss people round.’ Antonia smiled.

There was a pause. ‘Maginot looked nothing like Corinne. Too tall – too heavy. Could she have changed so much over such a short period of time? Her voice was rasping and crow-like – her face the face of a gargoyle – and she looked much older than fifty-five… On second thoughts,’ Major Payne continued musing aloud, ‘platform shoes would take care of the height – and people can age prematurely, through illness or stress or the wrong diet. Maginot did like her drink. Besides, she’d had a stroke. That too would have altered her appearance… Would it change it beyond all recognition, though?’

‘Maybe not – but something else certainly would. Do you remember where Corinne was believed to have gone – at the time she disappeared from view?’

Payne held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. ‘To Switzerland? One of Peverel’s scouts was of the opinion that she’d had something major done… Good lord! You don’t mean -’

‘I remember reading a hair-raising article once, about what happens if your body proves intolerant to surgical intrusions. The silicone that has been implanted in your face starts moving, your eyes swell shut, your head balloons to the size of the Taj Mahal, then you get gangrene, which in turn may lead to “skin death” or necrosis… If you don’t die, you never look the same.’

‘Plastic surgery that goes wrong…’

‘Here’s a theory,’ Antonia said. ‘For some thirty years Corinne Coreille has been able to have a most successful singing career. Through regular diet, exercise and the latest in beauty care, she has managed to remain “young” – unchanged. She has contrived to preserve a certain memorable image. She has had at least one face-lift, various nips and tucks. However, age does catch up with her, eventually. She is forty-nine now and one day she discovers she doesn’t look right any more – or perhaps the realization has slowly been creeping up on her?’

‘Yes. She can’t imagine going on stage, stepping out under the spotlight, looking haggard, her face collapsed.’ Payne pulled a demented grimace. ‘She cancels one concert, then another. None of the intensive beauty treatments seems able to erase time’s satanic footprints. She grows desperate – decides on a radical solution. She’d have something major. A total image reconstruction. Nothing less would do. She disappears from view. She books herself into a superior Swiss clinic, from which she is confident she will emerge spectacularly rejuvenated from under the knife, thirty years younger – a girl once more!’

‘Only she doesn’t.’

‘She doesn’t… The surgery goes spectacularly wrong – some dreadful infection sets in – she nearly dies. Well, the doctors save her – she recovers – but she loses her face. It is patched up – however, she can no longer be recognized as Corinne Coreille. She looks like Godzilla. Something has gone terribly wrong with her vocal chords too, maybe as a result of the shock. The famous voice – the beautiful voice that had once charmed General de Gaulle – is no more – gone! Corinne Coreille has suffered a permanent extinction de voix.’ Payne started relighting his pipe and he waved his hand as though to say, ‘Over to you.’

He’s enjoying this as much as I am, Antonia thought. She took up the tale. ‘Corinne spends the next five years in the wilderness. She suffers severe depression, has a nervous breakdown, starts hitting the bottle, puts on weight. She becomes a hermit, leads a twilight existence, which for her, after so many years in the spotlight, is a living death. She ages – now she looks ten years older. Maybe she assumes a different name. She realizes that she is finished. She is haunted by the thought – tormented – crazed by it. Her mind becomes somewhat unhinged. Then – then something unexpected happens -’

Payne put up his finger. ‘Corinne meets her daughter. She hasn’t seen her for quite a while, maybe she’s never seen her as a grown-up woman at all, so when they stand face to face, she is struck by the remarkable resemblance her daughter bears to her young self. Then she hears her daughter sing. She is stunned – she can’t believe her ears – that unique voice, the Corinne Coreille voice – her voice, as it was in her prime! She has the uncanny feeling that she is hearing one of her own early recordings -’

‘Actually Corinne saw her daughter on video. It was the nuns who recorded the tape,’ they heard someone say. ‘Two flighty soeurs who had got tipsy on absinthe. It showed Monique dressed up as Corinne, singing one of Corinne’s songs. The title of the song, prophetically enough, was “Je Reviens”.’

Peverel had entered the library without either of them hearing him.