The Death of Corinne Read Free

‘She seems to be taking it for granted that it will be all right. She’s got houses all over the place – Florida, Geneva, a villa in Antibes, and I don’t know where else – yet she’s coming to Chalfont.’
    Antonia murmured, ‘She clearly believes she will be safest here. A haven of peace in the midst of turmoil.’
    Payne nodded. ‘ Pax in bello .’
    ‘ Pax in bello be blowed! Why should she believe any such thing? Yes, yes, she’s been here before, but she was only three or four then – her mamma brought her. She’s seen photographs of Chalfont, of course. What I mean is, the house is jolly isolated,’ Lady Grylls went on. ‘There’s no moat or wall – no barbed wire – nothing to deter intruders – no armed sentinels. If someone wanted to cut her throat or shoot her, there’d be no way of stopping them, would there?’
    ‘Perhaps she’ll bring her own bodyguards.’
    Lady Grylls groaned. ‘Her entourage. What am I going to do about her entourage? She mentioned a Maître Maginot. I am sure there will be others.’ Lady Grylls counted on her fingers. ‘Her personal maid, her make-up artist, her masseuse – um, what else is there?’
    ‘Fitness instructor – nutritionist?’ Antonia suggested.
    ‘Yes . . . Her personal chiropodist too, as likely as not – these people are so spoilt – or do I mean chiromancer?’ Lady Grylls frowned.
    ‘She probably has one of each.’
    ‘You are such a comfort, Hughie . . . Yes, the likes of Corinne usually travel with a retinue. I’m sure they’ll be an extremely disagreeable bunch . . . She never said how many!’
    ‘I don’t see why you should let that worry you, Aunt Nellie. Plenty of room here.’
    ‘Servants, darling. Servants.’ Lady Grylls shook her head. ‘The bane of my life. I have the most awful struggle, keeping this place together.’
    ‘There’s old Hortense. And Provost. And Nicholas.’
    Hortense was the cook, Provost the butler, while Nicholas, Provost’s teenage son, was learning to be a footman.
    Lady Grylls stared at her nephew owlishly. ‘As you say, Hughie, there’s old Hortense, Provost and Nicholas. Precisely my point. Chalfont’s getting more and more uncomfortable and harder to manage – I don’t suppose it’s only me entering a particularly morose and acrid dotage, is it? I find the draughts are getting worse, the hot-water system less reliable, the dogs less clean –’
    Major Payne put down his cup. ‘You haven’t had dogs for ages, darling.’
    ‘Kept chewing the carpets, that’s why I had to get rid of them. Chalfont will be the end of me. We might have been able to pull it round while Rory was alive – there was still money in the kitty then – but he got this apoplectic look whenever I suggested renovation! I might have been saying, what a pity the jacquerie didn’t succeed, or do let’s join the Labour Party, or some such thing. Rory seemed to equate shabbiness with “good form” . . . You aren’t warm enough, are you?’ She cast a jaundiced glance at the ancient two-bar electric heater that hissed and crackled in front of the fireplace, giving off a slight odour of burning dust. Pointing towards the high ceiling with her forefinger, she observed that that was where all the heat went.
    ‘No doubt most country house owners are similarly handicapped,’ said Payne soothingly.
    ‘Don’t I know it! Why d’you think I avoid Adela de Quesne and that old stick Bobo Markham like the plague? All they do when they manage to get hold of me on the blower is moan about damp and dry rot and trespassing ramblers claiming the right to long-forgotten footpaths and how everything is at near-perdition point.’
    Trying to catch her husband’s eye and failing, Antonia said they could always leave, if indeed there were going to be a lot of people coming.
    ‘Leave? Is that some sort of a joke, Antonia?’ Lady Grylls said sternly. ‘You can’t leave now. I need you here! Goodness. Peverel isn’t any good in