Hugh remained silent, his eyes wild, like a hungry animal waiting to pounce. Dottie taunted him, live bait.
‘When Polo told Vincent what he’d seen everything must have fallen into place. Vincent wrote me a message, telling me who the traitor was. Polo was supposed to deliver it but instead he followed Vincent and watched him hide the bag containing the documents in the woods, then he followed him to the barn and witnessed his murder.’
‘It’s s-still his word against mine. That isn’t proof, it’s rumour, a folk s-story at best.’
Now it was Dottie’s turn to smirk. ‘Not when you have the bag, a gun, the note and the stolen documents, a good old-fashioned paper trail that can be scientifically aged and verified. Oh, and a cover name, one that can be traced right back to the SOE archives and matched with an agent’s code name. Claude Rayon, Victor, Hugh Grosvenor, you.’
Hugh appeared dumbstruck. The pulse in his temple was throbbing, almost keeping time with Dottie’s heart while she waited for him to react. So, when she saw him glance at the box, she knew it was time to give him his gift.
‘I forgot to say, Konstantin is waiting outside. He doesn’t send his regards, not now he knows you were responsible for his brother’s death. You may not know or care that Anatoly died in a prisoner of war camp, not the same one where they executed Estelle, by the way. Both of them died because of your actions so this gift is actually from me and Konstantin, on behalf of his brother and my beloved Maude. I’m the courier on one last mission.’ Dottie removed the lid of the box and took out the sealed inch-square bag that contained a small pill. Holding it between her gloved fingers she placed it on the desk before her, and then put the gift box back inside her bag.
‘I take it you know what it is. We weren’t sure if you had your own supply so thought it polite to provide you with a means of escape, should you wish it, from the public humiliation and scandal you are about to face. Russian-grade cyanide, quick by all accounts. No need to thank us, by the way. It really is our pleasure.’
Once again, the room was plunged into silence and this time the clock seemed to tick faster. Hugh’s voice brought Dottie back to reality. ‘What m-makes you think I haven’t planned for this eventuality and therefore have no need of your gifts, or the use of my own supply?’
‘And what makes you think Konstantin hasn’t pre-empted your reaction? As you know he enjoys a game of chess, so I think it’s your move.’ Dottie rewound her scarf and tucked it inside her coat.
When Hugh spoke his voice betrayed nothing. ‘How long have I got?’
Dottie stood and looked upon her ex-friend for the last time. ‘Longer than Anatoly, Maude and Vincent had before the bullet left the gun. Forty-eight hours and then it’s Konstantin’s move. I’ll see myself out. Goodbye, Hugh.’
Their eyes met briefly and in his she saw nothing that would make her regret this last mission, so she turned and walked away, her shoes muffled by the rug. Once she pulled open the door and strode across the chessboard hallway, the sound of her heels clicking marked time, eleven seconds until she was outside and on the pavement, sucking in fresh air and heading towards where Konstantin was waiting.
The driver was out of the car and opening the passenger door before she arrived, and once she was seated and it was closed behind her, she heard the comforting voice of a true friend.
‘It is done?’
Dottie nodded. ‘It is done.’
‘Good. For you it is finished, Zaya, now leave the rest to me.’ Konstantin gave a curt nod and his driver, watching through the rear-view mirror, obeyed.
As the car glided past the home of the traitor neither occupant turned their heads to look, instead they focused on the road ahead and in Dottie’s case, the future.
46
Dottie’s Big Birthday
Renazé, May 2020
Dottie was tired, weary was how she’d described it to Maude earlier, before she popped out to the Super U to get some supplies for the weekend. Maude always shopped in the evening, when the light faded and her studio up in the attic caught too many shadows.
Shadows, now there was a word that never failed to conjure a memory. Dottie spent a lot of time with her memories now and she liked to surround herself with her bits and bobs, her photograph album that she spent hours poring over, touching the face of her precious ones, reminding herself, chuckling and sometimes having a little chat with them. It didn’t matter that she looked a bit potty. Maude called her dotty Dottie, it made them both smile.
There had been so much of that since they both moved to France permanently ten years ago, once Maude had returned from her failed travels and got on with the serious business of being an artist. Dottie delighted in reciting to anyone who would listen, especially after a few red wines, the last part of the text message she’d received late one night from Maude.
Dear Gran, letting you know that me and Lachlan are over. Try not to look too pleased. Long story but basically, he has no intention of travelling anywhere so I’m heading off without him. Met up with two great girls who have wanderlust like me. Will stick with them and be home in January. Told the parents, Mum freaked, Dad’s okay, have a word with Mum, will you? I’ll keep you updated by email. Hope you are okay and have a brill time in France with the Maquis. Love you, Maude.
PS Thank you for funding this trip and giving me the opportunity to prove you right about Kangaroo Boy ;)
When Maude returned from Oz, the first thing she did was dig out her sketches from France and throw herself into her work. Her first collection, shown at a trendy gallery in Soho, sold out and from then on she was inundated with commissions. The paintings, beautiful landscapes, were eclipsed by her second collection of past and present representations of towns and villages, modern-day life overlaid by ghosts of those who walked the streets before them. Soon her work was in great demand.
Maude and Dottie made frequent visits to France where the artist would gather inspiration and the grandmother would while away her time in Renazé with her friends. Maude continued to sell her work through a prestigious gallery in London so the permanent move had seemed a sensible option and had worked well for both of them. Even Jean didn’t mind, not after Dottie bunged her a few quid in an early inheritance cheque so she and Ralph could bugger off to Portugal to play golf in the sun.
Dottie checked the time, almost seven, Maude would be home soon. She was such a darling and had left the radio on, playing jazz nice and quietly in the corner, and there was a G&T, with lemon not lime, to see her through until dinner. The light was fading in the lounge but as always Maude had left the wall lights on, lighting up the two portraits which hung in the alcoves on either side of the fire. Feeling chilly, Dottie pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa where she lay, covered herself, then lifted the photo album from the table by her side. Before she opened it, she glanced up and smiled at the portraits.
Maude was so clever. From the photo Béatrice had given Dottie of Vincent on the beach, and using the one that Roberto had taken of her that day on the hill, she’d reunited two lovers through oil on canvas. Side by side, Dottie’s arm rested against that of Vincent and both of them were smiling into the camera. Anyone who didn’t know the truth would imagine that was exactly how the original scene had played out.
Her eyes then moved to the left, to the portrait opposite of her beautiful Lady Mary Eliza Balfour, Maude to her friends. Young Maude had made it her mission to find a photograph of Old Maude as they now referred to her. After following an online paper trail that led to a second cousin, she was rewarded with two family photos, one of baby Maude and her siblings, and one of her just after her coming out in London. It was the epitome of the vibrant beauty with ironed blonde hair that rolled in waves, her rose complexion and laughing blues eyes smiled along with rosebud lips. The only alteration to the original was that she was wearing pale green, like the first time Dottie ever saw her. A vision of loveliness.
