‘Olga? Is that you, Olga – really you?’
‘Of course it is me, you silly boy! Why are you talking in this funny way?’
‘Is that really you?’
‘Stop saying that! Yes! Of course it’s me!’
‘I – I thought you were dead.’ His voice shook. He pressed his mobile to his ear.
‘I am not dead. I am at the clinic.’
‘The clinic?’
‘Yes! The clinic! Your clinic! I came to see you!’
‘You are at the clinic?’ Charlie’s relief was so great, so overpowering, he was not surprised that tears were rolling down his face once more.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I am so happy you are not dead. What – what are you doing at the clinic?’
‘I am having a cup of tea. The nurses are very nice, especially the older one.’
‘Nanny Everett! She’s always asking people if they want a cup of tea! I can’t tell you how happy I am. But – but what are you doing at the clinic?’
‘You asked someone to tell me to come to the clinic. Some friend of yours.’
‘I didn’t. What are you talking about?’
‘Somebody phoned me, and said, go to the clinic at once – Charlie is not well. So you are at my house now, did you say? At Philomel Cottage, yes?’
‘Yes.’ He swallowed. ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone?’
‘I was on the Tube!’
‘That’s what Nanny Everett said … Who the hell is that then?’
‘Sorry?’
‘There is a dead body here, outside the house!’
‘What dead body?’
‘No idea who it is. It’s a girl. A blonde. I thought it was you. Someone rang me and said you were dead.’
‘Did you say a girl?’
‘Oh lord. I haven’t seen her face yet. Can you come at once, Olga? I’ll need your help. Please come at once.’
He pulled the body into the hall, shut the front door and turned on the light. He knew he shouldn’t have touched it, but he was thinking that perhaps the body should be made to disappear. Calling the police would be asking for trouble.
He believed he knew now who the dead girl was. It had come to him in a flash. It was one of Olga’s friends. Inge. Or Simona. Olga had given them replicas of the front-door key, she had told him. He’d said nothing but he didn’t like it. He had no illusions as to what these girls did. It was Bedaux who provided them with ‘jobs’ and he knew what those jobs were. And officially Bedaux was still in his employ!
The trail would inevitably lead to me, Charlie thought.
The two girls were Olga’s age, give or take a year. He had seen them. Like her they were blondes and quite pretty – though not a patch on her in the sheer-loveliness department!
He knew now what had happened. The nursery nut had made a fatal mistake – she had stabbed the wrong girl.
He bent over the body and slowly turned it over.
At Philomel Cottage all the lights were on.
Major Payne rang the front-door bell. As no one answered, he rang it again. Eventually the door opened and a girl stood on the threshold.
She was slim and was dressed in jeans, t-shirt and trainers. Her hair was very fair and it shimmered in the lamplight. Since she was lit from behind her face remained in shadow. Her shoulders, he noticed, were extremely tense.
‘Yes?’
‘So sorry to disturb you, but we are looking for Mr Charles Eresby,’ Payne delivered with old-fashioned formality. ‘He lives here, doesn’t he?’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am Hugh Payne and this is my wife Antonia. We are his mother’s friends. You see, Lady Collingwood wanted us to make sure Charlie is OK –’
‘I don’t understand.’ The girl made a gesture that was exaggeratedly foreign.
‘Charlie’s mother was on the phone to Charlie but they were cut off,’ Payne said slowly. ‘Charlie only managed to tell his mother that a friend of his, the girl who lives in this house, actually, is dead. A girl called Olga Klimt?’
The girl took up a defiant pose, her arms akimbo. ‘I am Olga Klimt and I am not dead!’
Payne’s eyebrows went up a little, ‘You are Olga Klimt?’
‘Yes, I am! I am Olga Klimt! You want to see my papers? I am sorry but I am very busy. Please to go away –’ It looked as though she was about to shut the door.
‘Is Charlie here?’ Payne was looking over her shoulder, into the hall. He believed he had caught a movement. ‘Hallo, is that you, Charlie?’ Payne called out.
‘Charlie is not here – I can’t talk – I am sorry – I don’t understand – I am very busy.’
The door slammed.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ Antonia said.
‘Watch,’ Payne whispered and he gave Antonia a little wink. He then spoke in a histrionically loud voice, ‘We have no option but to call the police, my love, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, we must call the police. We have no option,’ Antonia agreed, equally loudly.
‘Have you got your mobile? I don’t seem to have brought mine,’ Payne said, playing for time. ‘999, shall we?’
They thought they could hear agitated voices, then the front door opened once more and a young man wearing a dressing gown over pyjamas appeared.
‘I’m so terribly sorry. I am Charles Eresby.’ He sounded a little breathless, ‘I was upstairs. I am afraid Olga didn’t understand you. She doesn’t speak English very well. Did you say you were friends of Mummy’s?’
‘Yes. My name is Hugh Payne and this is my wife Antonia.’
‘I am so sorry. Do come in, do come in,’ Charlie said and he opened the door wide. His floppy fair hair fell into his eyes.