‘What thing?’ This time Antonia didn’t try to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
‘It’s an object. I found an object,’ Sybil said evasively. ‘What I believe to be proof of someone’s guilt. Your aunt says both of you are astutely analytical, which means you will have no problem seeing the object’s significance at once. I am sure it will come to you in a flash.’
‘How much does my aunt know about your suspicions?’ Payne asked.
‘No more than you do, I assure you. Dear Nellie. She was one of mama’s greatest chums, you know. She’s been on the island since Monday. I think she’s enjoying herself. I have told her exactly what I have told you. Not a word more not a word less.’
‘I don’t suppose you have told your brother about your suspicions, have you?’
‘No, of course not. My brother is the very last person I would ever tell. John would say I was bonkers. He often says that. He once compared me to the woman in the Chekhov play who lived in a cupboard because she believed herself to be a seagull! John has a thing about seagulls.’
‘I think he got Chekhov mixed up with Strindberg,’ said Payne. ‘The woman who lived in a cupboard believed she was a parrot.’
‘My brother has a thing about seagulls,’ Sybil repeated. ‘I am afraid relations between me and my brother have been strained for some time. I think he suspects I intend to sell the island, you see.’
‘The island belongs to you?’
‘Indeed it does.’ Her father had left Sphinx Island to her. Sphinx had been her albatross. She got a sense of floating melancholy each time she thought about it. ‘Well, it took me quite a while to make up my mind, but then I decided that enough was enough. It’s my island, so I can do with the damned thing as I jolly well please. John can’t really prevent me from selling it. He’s got no legal right. I’ll sell it and then I’ll buy myself a nice little flat in South Kensington, so there.’
‘Would your brother be very upset?’ Antonia asked.
‘He wouldn’t be “very upset”. He would be terribly upset. He’d kick up a hideous rumpus. There would be ugly scenes. He would try to stop me in some way. John said once he would rather cut his throat than live in South Kensington.’ Sybil heaved an exasperated sigh. ‘Would you live on a small island, Major Payne? If given the choice?’
‘I am not sure. I don’t think I would.’
‘Antonia?’
‘No. Not on a small island.’
‘What if someone left you an island in their will?’
Payne said he would sell it. He put a match to his pipe.
‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. I am so glad we are singing from the same hymn book. If my lease of life were suddenly to run out, the island would go to John. I have made a will to that effect, though of course I have no intention of kicking the bucket. Not in the foreseeable future at any rate,’ Sybil said brightly.
Payne looked at her. ‘Does your brother know that you’ve left him the island in your will?’
‘I have an idea I told him. I believe I said, “If I were to snuff it before you, dear boy, Sphinx is yours for life,” or words to that effect. I do try to be fair.’
Sybil went on to say that she hated the sea as much as she hated the island and of course you couldn’t have one without the other. The cruel alien sea. Either layered in purple and blue or muddy green or gun-metal grey. She’d got to know the sea so well, she could write a paper on its changing colour. The island used to bear their name – De Coverley Island – but it was popularly known as Sphinx Island. Crackpots seemed to be drawn to it as bees are to honey. There were pictures of the island on the internet, if they wanted to look at them before they came. Aerial photos and so on.
‘You can read about the island’s history, it’s on Wikipedia, all about the secret military experiments during the Second World War, the UFO landing in the fifties and so on and so forth.’
‘Where is Sphinx Island exactly?’ Antonia asked.
‘It is situated three miles off the Devon coast. From some angles, it does bring to mind a crouching, smiling kind of Sphinx. It looks absolutely hideous. We’ve got our very own launch, Cutwater, so you won’t have to hire a boat or anything like that. Oswald said he would collect you himself. Oswald is terribly keen on sailing. Mad about it. He said he would be at Wanmouth to meet the 4.50 from Paddington. I’m talking about Friday afternoon … Unless you decided to drive?’
Payne smiled pleasantly. ‘We haven’t yet said that we are coming.’
‘You’d recognise Oswald right away by his rather superior-looking yachting cap. Thank God for Oswald Ramskritt! He is an American. He is the man who’s going to take the island off my hands. He is awfully zealous and territorial. The frontier spirit, wouldn’t you say? Apparently, at one time, before the Crunch, he was so frightfully rich; he seriously considered the idea of buying Venice and turning the Grand Canal into a six-lane expressway.’
‘Can one buy Venice?’
‘Perhaps not in the normal course of things, but he said there was a way round it. Oswald has the smiling self-assurance of a man who has achieved success early and easily. I believe he is a self-made man, but then aren’t all Americans? He and his entourage are already on Sphinx. He’s got a yacht. Not a particularly vast one, but it’s terribly smart. Are you a sailing man, Major Payne?’
‘I’m afraid I am not.’
‘Poor John used to do a lot of sailing himself, when he was younger, before the attack, but he is a virtual recluse these days. He never goes anywhere and he tends to keep to his room when we have visitors. Expecting him to come down and say how-do-you-do would be futile, like waiting for a badger to start tap-dancing. Nobody seems to mind. Oswald says he loves English eccentricity in every shape or form. I am sure he means it. Mrs Garrison-Gore of course is too busy to notice anything. I must admit I find Mrs Garrison-Gore’s kinetic intensity a little exhausting.’ Sybil bit her lip. ‘Oswald’s secretary – not Ella, the new young one – seems to like John. Her name is Maisie, I think. The other day I saw her standing outside John’s door, talking to him through the keyhole.’
Antonia had the impression Sybil regretted mentioning Mrs Garrison-Gore’s name.
‘I wonder if she’s been attempting to nudge him into a more enlightened direction? That’s the sort of thing an American girl would do. She is terribly well-meaning and of course she is pretty as a picture. So refreshingly innocent and unspoilt, a tabula rasa, as papa would have put it – unless she turns out to be an accomplished little actress who’s after Oswald’s millions. I find American girls incomprehensible, don’t you? Apparently John told her that he liked fried chicken best, he whispered it through the keyhole, which suggests some kind of a bond might have been forged between them. He also told her she mustn’t think he enjoyed chewing blotting paper.’
‘Does your brother chew blotting paper?’ Antonia asked. I want to see these people, she thought.
‘He does. As it happens, there’s a perfectly rational explanation for it. I bet you’ll never guess what it is.’
Payne cleared his throat. ‘Old-fashioned remedy for headaches that develop as a result of shooting?’
‘You are clever. I don’t believe I’ve ever said that to a Major before. That’s the reason he does it, yes. John is a shooting nut. He is the proud owner of several guns. He shoots at seagulls, mainly. He is tormented by blinding headaches, which he insists on explaining with the fact that he is left-handed. He is, to use an awful phrase – please, you must forgive me – in denial.’
‘Who else is on the island?’ Payne asked.
‘Well, there is Ella. Ella Gales. She works for Oswald. General dogsbody and so on. Ella’s got the patience of a saint, though she is too clever for straightforward virtue. I believe she was born a Swede. “Stoic and isolate”. Quite distinguished-looking, a former beauty queen, apparently. The epitome of style and sheer chic. Ella and Doctor Klein are thick as thieves, which I find intriguing. If you could imagine Beauty and the Beast … Shall I tell you who they remind me of? Those two hunted outcasts, Hagar and Ishmael, abandoned and wandering in a psychic wilderness of their own creation. Whenever I happen to walk in on them I get a palpable sense of having interrupted some cabal in its scheming.’
‘Who is Doctor Klein?’
‘He is Oswald’s doctor. Doctor Klein is what papa would have called an “Americanised Kraut”. Papa used to refer to America as a “land of sanctimony and barbarism”. Papa would have detested that awful senator with the vests, what was his name? Why would anyone in their right mind want to be the President of America, I simply can’t imagine. Papa was one of the most zealously xenophobic people you are ever likely to meet, yet when he was confronted with real aliens, he didn’t turn a hair.’
‘What real aliens?’
‘There was an incident in the early 1950s. A landing of sorts. All part of the Sphinx Island mythology. I keep getting letters from madmen asking questions about it. They call themselves “ufologists”, or something like that.’ Sybil waved a dismissive hand. ‘Doctor Klein is enormous – and I mean enormous. It’s odd since he eats next to nothing and invariably declines pudding.’
‘Why does Oswald Ramskritt need a doctor?’ Antonia asked. It occurred to her that she had heard Mrs Garrison-Gore’s name before, only where?
‘I am not sure. All I know is that Doctor Klein holds reflexology sessions with him, if that’s what they are called. Rich Americans appear to suffer from all kinds of peculiar conditions, have you noticed, or perhaps they only imagine they do? Oswald is surrounded by nice and helpful people. It makes me green with envy. You wouldn’t believe this, but the moment they realised there were no servants on the island, Ella and Maisie offered their services!’
‘No servants?’ Payne’s left eyebrow went up.
‘Not a single one. Mod cons are in somewhat short supply on Sphinx. Remember the old Punch cartoon? Oh dear that was so funny. “Good night, Mrs Jones, you must forgive our primitive ways.” Well, Ella alone is worth ten servants. Ella makes sure the flowers are right, she organises the menu and she actually cooks for us. She is efficiency personified. I have an idea she was once involved with Oswald. I don’t think she is awfully happy, but then who is? Maisie, as I said, is Oswald’s brand-new amanuensis, if that indeed is the word I want, though what exactly she does is anybody’s guess.’
‘There is no Mrs Ramskritt?’
‘No. Dead, I think. Strictly entre nous, Oswald’s completely smitten with Maisie, poor man, as only a middle-aged man can be, though I somehow doubt he’s declared undying love for her yet. The girl, on the other hand, is in awe of him.’
‘They seem to be a fascinating bunch of characters.’ Payne shot a glance at Antonia.
No servants, Antonia was thinking. That was a bit unusual. A house party on a minuscule island and no servants …
‘Who is Mrs Garrison-Gore?’ Antonia asked.
‘Oh, just a friend of a friend … I am afraid John has been making things a little awkward for everybody. What started as a mild neurosis has developed into what some may call a morbid obsession. He leaves his room only in the dead of night. He likes to walk about the island, even when there is a storm. He wears an oilskin and a slouch hat and carries a lantern and a gun. I’d better explain. A couple of years ago John was attacked by two seagulls and he’s been quite different since. Sometimes, in the morning, we find the little beach below the rocks littered with the bodies of the seagulls he has shot during the night.’
‘I assume he has a licence for his guns?’
‘He has, though in my opinion it should be taken away. He is not a responsible person and accidents do happen, don’t they? I loathe the idea of reporting him as that would make me a snitch, but the truth is that John and I can’t agree about a single thing. Strangers to matters of any importance, as they say.’
Payne looked at her. ‘This murder mystery of yours – is it perhaps something to do with your brother?’
She gave a sad smile. ‘You ask the kind of question I can’t possibly answer. Incidentally, no one must ever know that you are on any sort of urgent mission. When you arrive on Friday, you will be introduced as Lady Grylls’ nephew and niece-by-marriage, which of course is who you are.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I am sure you wouldn’t dream of giving the game away. Your aunt said you make a religion of being discreet in every case you undertake.’
‘I don’t think we are up to undertaking anything. I am not sure we’ll be able to come, really.’ Antonia spoke in sudden panic. ‘As it happens, we are extremely busy this weekend, aren’t we, Hugh? It’s rather a special kind of weekend for us, you see. An exclusive kind of celebration, you may say –’
‘How many people are there on the island altogether?’ Payne asked.
‘Let me see. Oh dear, I am so terribly bad at arithmetics! Seven – no, eight – that includes your aunt and Doctor Klein.’ Sybil de Coverley counted on her fingers. ‘When you join us, there will be ten of us … Ten, yes – that’s right, isn’t it?’