Birth Marks

by Sarah Dunant

  After a while she looked up at me and nodded. ‘Hello, Hannah.’

  ‘Hello, Mathilde,’ I said because I felt I had earned the use of her first name.

  ‘How long did it take you to get here?’

  ‘Oh, about five days, I think. But then I wasted some time on dead ends.’

  She made a comforting face. ‘Well, anyway, you’re here now.’

  I looked around at the tables. ‘I’m sorry if this is an inconvenient time.’

  ‘Not really. In fact in some ways it may even be quite appropriate.’ She paused. ‘If Jules were here I’m sure he’d offer you a drink.’

  I shook my head and smiled at her. In the end it had been obvious. I mean who else had recourse to the doctor’s report and a solicitor, fake or otherwise in London? Come to that who else could afford the fees? Except Daniel, of course, and whatever fantasies I may have harboured in the past, last night had watched them tumble into the river. It was time to be realistic. She smiled back. It was a warm moment, girls together on a ripe spring morning with the prospect of a party to come. I was almost loath to break the spell. From my bag I pulled out a folder. I handed it to her.

  ‘I think this belongs to you.’

  She hesitated just for a second, then took it from me. She held it on her lap, her fingers playing over the cover as if they were reading Braille. Even the physical presence of it seemed to make her uneasy. Wanting to know is not the same as finding out, as I knew only too well. ‘We’ve never had much of a chance to talk to each other,’ she said after a while. ‘Why don’t you tell me what it says?’

  ‘Because I don’t know how much you know. I wouldn’t want to bore you.’

  ‘How much? Well, I know that the child was not my husband’s and that in some way she died because of that. I also know it wasn’t suicide.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you?’

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Why not?’ Although I suspected I already knew the answer.

  ‘As you yourself once said—I wanted a child very much. It was less important to me than to him who the father was.’ She paused. ‘I assume he felt he couldn’t trust me.’

  ‘So how did you get hold of the medical report?’

  She took a long drag of her cigarette. Interestingly I couldn’t remember her smoking before. Even now it seemed more of an affectation than a need. ‘The doctor had kept a copy, just in case he needed to prove it wasn’t his fault. So I blackmailed him, told him I would make public his part in the deception unless he gave me it. It was a risk, but it was clear you needed help and it was the only help I could give without entirely giving myself away.’ She cast a quick glance behind her, up to the house. Then back at me. ‘We don’t have a lot of time, Hannah. I need to know.’

  I took a breath. Here it was, the moment every private investigator dreams of—the truth, by Hannah Wolfe. ‘You were right, she didn’t kill herself. The so-called suicide note wasn’t written in her flat after all, it was written here in the summerhouse before she left. Daniel took it with him to London and planted it there for the police to find. But it wasn’t the only luggage he brought from France. There was also a trunk. Full of company reports apparently. Although, of course, no one opened it to check. As you suggested to me that day on the steps, there are some distinct advantages to being Belmont Aviation. Like being able to arrange your own flights at the last minute. Like having preferential treatment coming in and out of airports, knowing you can move fast and that no one will question you. They touched down in the private jet at 8.40 p.m. He arrived in Kilburn at 10.25 p.m.—I know because I was there. In between he had just enough time to get himself and the luggage down to the river.

  ‘Carolyn died by inhaling fresh river water between 4.30 p.m. and 6.30 p.m. on that Saturday evening. When the river police found the body two days later they jumped to the obvious conclusion. The PM and the inquest backed them up. The approximate time of death, the contents of the stomach, the suicide note, it all fitted. Given the facts there was no reason to suspect that the fresh water diatoms in her hadn’t come from the Thames. Except that at the time of death, of course, she was nowhere near the Thames. She was still here.’ I paused, looking out over the grounds to the glisten of water at the edge of the forest.

  ‘It’s a beautiful lake. Very old, I imagine, and fed directly from the river. Not such a clean river, alas, but pollution is a fact of life these days. Still cleaner than the Thames, but luckily the pathologist wasn’t checking for levels of pollution. Or for the differences between one river and another. To do that he would have had to call in a marine biologist, and why bother? As I say, everything fitted just as it was.

  ‘Carolyn wrote her note, waited until dark and then tried to leave. What happened next maybe you would know better than I. Maybe she didn’t see the edge of the water, fell in the dark and panicked, thrashed around until she couldn’t swim any more then opened her mouth to the water. Or maybe someone helped her in and made sure she stayed there. Whatever the explanation, I think Carolyn Hamilton drowned in your lake somewhere around 5.30 p.m. to 6.30 p.m. Then they—probably Daniel with a little help from Maurice—scooped her out, packed her up and flew her, post haste, to London. It was an act of pure bravado. But a clever one. Of course they were lucky to get away with it. A better PM might have gone in search of questions that the body couldn’t answer. As it was they found only what they were looking for.’

  The ash on her cigarette had grown dangerously long. Her hand trembled slightly and it slipped silently on to her dress. I wondered how she was going to get it off without smudging the divine hot black of the crêpe. Had she paid for me with her husband’s money? Rather ironic really, him indirectly financing his own destruction. Even though I had known it for a while I was still somewhat awed by the magnitude of her disloyalty. No wonder traditionally women were absolved from testifying against their husbands. It just meant they had to employ someone else to do it for them. She looked down at the ash and employed a small perfect nail to flick it deftly away. Nevertheless a faint grey shadow remained. She looked up at me and you could see that whatever else she was feeling she was also pleased.

  ‘I was out that afternoon. Buying nursery furniture,’ she said with a hollow little laugh. ‘She had told me about the baby the day she asked Jules to release her from the contract. I told her it wouldn’t matter. I assured her that when the time came to test for paternity I would protect her from his anger. I thought that would be enough. Of course what she hadn’t told me was how she knew for certain that it wasn’t his. Do you think the baby was dead?’

  ‘Not according to the expert I talked to. I think she was leaving in order to try and save it.’

  She shook her head. ‘By the time I got back here it was after seven o’clock. She had already gone.’

  ‘But Jules was here.’

  ‘Yes. Jules was here.’

  ‘How was he?’

  ‘Beside himself with anxiety. Daniel was already on his way to London. Agnes was flitting around him with a dozen medicine bottles and there was no sign of Maurice. Jules told me he was out looking for her.’

  ‘Out yes, but not looking. Every executive needs a chauffeur, and someone to help carry the trunk. I think it’s called “keeping it in the family”. He’s Agnes’s son, isn’t he?’

  She nodded. ‘She’s been with Jules since the war. He and his first wife took her in after her parents were killed by the Germans. When she married, her husband came to work for the company. When he died the son took his place. They would do anything for him. All of them. All except Carolyn, of course.’

  ‘When did you learn about the blood test?’

  ‘That evening. Jules told me.’ She looked down at her hands for a moment. ‘You know there’s a story told about Jules during the war. That he uncovered an informer in the resistance group he was leading. It was a woman. She’d been responsible for six people falling into Gestapo hands. Jules took her out on a mis
sion with him to blow up an armaments store. He came back alone. Her body was found in the remains of the warehouse.’ She paused. ‘Do you think he killed her?’

  I wondered how many times she had asked herself that question since the night Carolyn disappeared. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

  And for the first time she laughed. ‘You’re right, I should have done. The trouble is I don’t know if he’d have told me the truth.’ Finally the tense registered. Had it been there all along and I been too caught up in my own triumph to notice? ‘You took one too many wrong turnings, Hannah. Jules had another heart attack two days ago. A big one. He died an hour later, never having regained consciousness. What did you think all this was for?’ She waved an elegant hand over her dress and beyond, to the sea of white tablecloth. ‘The vultures are gathering to pick over the corpse. I came out to get a little fresh air after the reading of the will.’

  I have to say my primary emotion was disappointment. I suppose I had been looking forward to seeing his face. I didn’t like the idea of him going to his grave believing he had fooled me. She on the other hand didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, despite her immaculate costume I was having just a little trouble adjusting to Mathilde Belmont as the grieving widow.

  ‘What will you do with the report?’ I said after a while.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She looked up. ‘I haven’t really thought. I’ve been a married woman for seven years. I’ve rather lost the use of my brain. No doubt it’ll come back. Tell me, how much of this can you prove?’

  ‘How much of what?’ He must have come out through the open French windows, soft footfalls on hard stone. Or maybe he’d had training, listening outside other people’s doors. The black suit was just as striking, but then this time I had done some mental preparation. He walked over and stood between us. A dangerous position to be in. Near to, he looked tired, much more the worse for wear than her. When it was clear she was not going to answer his question he turned his attention to me. I kept my eyes on the floor. ‘Hello, Hannah,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

  ‘No, well I just couldn’t keep away.’

  He smiled, then went back to his aunt. Funny, I’d never thought of her like that before. It must have been a little incongruous for both of them. ‘They’ve gone into the library for an apéritif, Mathilde. I think they’re expecting you to join them.’

  ‘So, let them wait. I’m in mourning, if you remember. That makes my eccentricity acceptable.’

  ‘Not to mention your dry handkerchiefs,’ he added softly. We both waited for her to respond but she said nothing. After a while he glanced down at the folder on the table. Then up at me. ‘It looks like you’ve been working. May I?’

  I met his eyes: that old mixture of the serious and the mocking. I wondered how far I’d have to go before I hit the granite. I shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask my client.’

  And from the way he looked at her it was clear he hadn’t had a clue. I already knew they didn’t like each other, but even I was surprised at the little darts of hatred now singing through the air between them. She broke the gaze first, but it took a while. He picked up the report. Neither of us moved while he read it. Even the air seemed to freeze. Eventually I stopped watching my fingernails and started watching his face. Now you know what it feels like, buddy, I thought, being the last kid on the block to learn that everyone else knows it too.

  He closed the folder and put it down carefully between us. Then he said, ‘Well done, Hannah. It’s a lot of work.’

  ‘I can’t take all the credit,’ I said. ‘I had help.’

  ‘Yes, so I see.’ He was silent for a moment, then turned to her and smiled. ‘Well, what comes now, Mathilde? You want to call the police straight away or would you prefer to talk about it for a while? Couldn’t be better timing. We’ve got a house full of lawyers. You just tell me what you want and they could have the documents drawn up by the time lunch is served.’

  ‘Don’t be crude, Daniel. You’re the one in trouble, remember.’ And her voice was ice cold. ‘Why don’t you try and save your own skin? Try to convince us that you didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t kill her.’ And if she was looking to provoke anger she was disappointed; he sounded almost amused. ‘Neither did Jules or anyone else for that matter. But I wouldn’t let that concern you. You’ve probably still got enough here to put me behind bars for a while. Assuming, of course, you can prove it. But you can always cross that bridge when—or if—you come to it. You know we really shouldn’t be wasting time talking. You get this to the police today and it might make the first edition, along with the details of the will.’ She glowered at him, but she didn’t move. ‘No? Hannah, why don’t you persuade her? After all, this is a quest for the truth, isn’t it? What’s a cut of the Belmont estate put against a righteous hunger for justice? Wasn’t that why you employed Hannah? So go for it. You’ve got nothing to lose. It surely can’t matter to you that if I go to jail the money goes with me. It still wouldn’t end up in your pocket, however much you might think you deserve it.’

  She stood up. It was an abrupt movement. ‘Don’t give me this shit, Daniel,’ she said between clenched teeth. ‘You’re the criminal, not me. I don’t have to listen to this.’ She held his gaze for a second then turned to me, sweeter now, more like the loving widow. ‘Miss Wolfe, I’m so sorry. Maybe you and I should conclude our business indoors.’

  ‘Oh, nice one, Mathilde. Except I suspect “Miss Wolfe” isn’t that stupid, are you, Hannah? In fact I bet she wants to hear the truth even more than you do. Come to think of it she’s probably the only one who does. But then she’s also the only one without a vested interest. Sit down, Mathilde, and I’ll tell you both what happened that night. Then you can tell me what you’re going to do about it. I said sit down.’

  My God, but you’re lovely when you’re angry, I thought. Mathilde was less impressed. But she sat. I could hear my heart in stereo in my ears. Except which one of us was I nervous for—him, her or me? He didn’t speak for a while. Maybe he was looking for the right words. When he found them I was reminded of defending counsel addressing the jury, that same kind of intensity, that same apparent, shining sincerity. Except that was the jury’s job. To sort out the truth from the rhetoric.

  ‘I was at the office that Saturday afternoon. I got a call from Jules just before five. The results of the test had just come through and the doctor had told him about the baby. Of course he was upset, and he was also angry. But as much because she hadn’t been able to tell him as because of what she’d done. I think it made him realize how frightened of him she must have been, and for that reason he wanted me there when he confronted her. I got here as soon as I could. Nevertheless it was dark by the time I arrived. Agnes let me in. She was in tears. She led me out into the grounds. They were down by the lake. Jules, Maurice and the body. It had been Maurice who had found her. He’d let the dogs out just after dusk. Then heard them barking furiously down by the lake. He hadn’t taken any notice for a while, thought it was a rabbit or a shrew. But they kept on and on. He called to them to come in but they wouldn’t budge. So he went out to them. They were standing by the edge of the lake, howling at the water. The body was about twenty yards out, caught in the weeds. They must have heard her, thought she was an intruder. It was pitch black and she was off the path. With the dogs on her heels it must have been easy for her to miss her way and fall in. It was bitterly cold that night. By dark the temperature was already well below freezing. I think that would have done it as much as the water.’

  He stopped, letting the picture linger in our minds. To his credit he could have milked it more. There were details he could have used to colour the images: those delicate ankles, for instance, swollen by the signs of pre-eclampsia and weakened by operations. How easy it would have been for her to lose her balance and fall panting into dark water and weeds. While I of all people had good reason to remember the terror the dogs could
induce, and how panic can make one careless and crazy. I could see it all. But equally I could see something else, a split screen version of another truth: a young girl rendered weak and clumsy by fear as well as a blighted pregnancy, and an old man, stronger than he looked, energized by fury and the need to save his Othello-like ‘reputation’, holding her down until that golden hair was matted by slime and there was no life left, either in her or her stomach. In the end believing or not believing Daniel had nothing to do with it. This need not be a case of defence counsel lying, but rather of his client never having told him the truth. And that, of course, was the final irony. Because what was not known now would never be known. The real story, whatever it was, was already being eaten by worms in the Belmont mausoleum. The cunning old war hero had won the final battle. Except he had paid a high price for the silence. Maybe it was nature’s way of evening the score. When the monarchy had been restored to power in England in the seventeenth century the government had disinterred the bodies of the king’s enemies and had them hung, drawn and quartered anyway, just to show that justice can pursue you even beyond the grave. But that was English law, and they had had proof. I, even after all this time, had nothing but theories. Daniel was watching me carefully.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, Hannah. And you’re right. We’ll never know for sure. But you shouldn’t let that cloud your judgement. It made absolutely no sense for Jules or anyone else to harm her. All she wanted was a way out. She wasn’t threatening blackmail—she had already promised that she would tell no one, she wasn’t even asking for anything, just to be allowed to leave. And even if she had been it would have been easier and cleaner to pay her off and get her to a hospital before it was too late. She was a pregnant young woman, a little lost, a little screwed up, but nothing more. Whatever she had done she didn’t deserve to die. And whatever anger he might have felt Jules wouldn’t, couldn’t, have killed her. I told you once, Hannah, that he was a remarkable man. You didn’t really believe me. I suspect he had too much money and power for your liking. But that still doesn’t make him a murderer.