‘Anything within reason,’ I say.
‘Leave him,’ she says.
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because you’re not who you say you are, are you, Lalla?’ she says and smiles. This is not going to plan.
‘What does that mean?’ I say, trying to buy time to think.
‘Presumably, you received the old newspaper article in the post?’ she says, watching my response closely.
‘I did and have no idea what it’s about,’ I say.
‘I thought that’s why you were here,’ says Madeleine. ‘Smoked out of your den.’
‘I don’t know a thing about it,’ I say.
‘Roger once bought a Monet without provenance,’ she says. ‘I advised against it, of course, but he was taken in by the traumatic history of the painting, which included a Nazi theft, tragic deaths, and forty years hidden in the loft of a farmhouse.’
‘And was it real?’
‘Absolutely not. A complete fake. No provenance, you see. Worthless, just like you. You say your parents died, you went to a school in Geneva that since closed, you’ve lost touch with all your relatives, and you had that accident that wiped your memory. If you were a painting, I’m afraid Sotheby’s would put you in a bin sale.’
‘Is this a feature of your declining faculties, or do you simply have too much time on your hands?’
‘Who are you, Lalla? When Stephen fell under your spell, I wanted to check you out, but Roger stopped me. I always wondered what you had over Roger. Did you offer yourself to him in exchange for protection?’
‘I think Roger was just delighted that Stephen was happy, because he’d never managed to find love and happiness in his own marriage.’
‘Anyone can see you’re not from money, and certainly noteducated at an elite Swiss school. You’re leaking sawdust all over the carpet.’
‘Have you been poisoning Stephen with these lies?’ I say.
‘Lies, are they?’ she says, puffing herself up like a peacock. ‘You know how I found out? Your greed. I found a series of payments to someone called Lola Wells in one of Roger’s bank statements after he died. He kept everything, you see. They appeared around the time of your engagement to Stephen.’
‘Just another woman he was sleeping with for comfort, no doubt.’
‘I thought so, too, but I asked a private detective to do some work for me to find Lola Wells,’ she says, which immediately makes me think it was her who hired Jason Mercer.
‘Not an easy task,’ she continues, ‘until I realized I had another piece of the jigsaw. Once I gave him your date of birth, things started to open up. He found the birth certificate of a girl called Lola Wells, born on the same day as you, in Banbury. Her parents were called Brian and Margaret Wells. They later appeared in this rather sordid news story, when their daughter was taken into care. She’d be thirty-nine today. I couldn’t find a photo of her, sadly. She disappeared from records after the murder. I expect she changed her name and made up a new one.’
‘You’ve wasted your money. That’s not me,’ I say with a dismissive laugh, but I feel as if I’ve been punched hard in the gut. ‘Why are you so determined to split up a happy marriage?’
Madeleine laughs. ‘Happy? Have you seen your husband lately? I’m going to share my research with him and let him draw his own conclusions. You do understand that you’re on borrowed time now, don’t you?’
‘You’re delusional,’ I say.
‘I don’t think so. I’m quite sure that I’m on the right track.’
‘Tea?’ I say.
‘How civilized,’ she replies, and takes out a cigarette from a silver case. As she lights her cigarette, I open the teapot, stir vigorously, then pour carefully into the two delicate cups.
‘I know it’s naughty to smoke, but I only ever have one to celebrate,’ says Madeline, and she puffs a large cloud into the room.
‘Milk?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘It’s herbal tea, Lalla, not Tetley. I expect you’ll find it quite bitter.’
