by Janet Tanner
The family had long since given up trying to understand what had motivated her; Catherine was a law unto herself. Then, just when they had thought that she had left Jersey for ever she had proved them wrong yet again. When she had reached the age of sixty, a year ago, she had retired from her profession, sold the flat which she had occupied for more than thirty years and returned to the island where she had been born. Sophia had suggested she should move into La Grange to keep her company – fond as she was of Deborah and David she liked the idea of having her sister around, especially since they both now had plenty of time on their hands. But Catherine had declined the offer. She had been on her own too long now to be able to fit in with anyone else, she explained, and she had bought herself a charming cottage in the very heart of the island.
For all her reluctance to live with them, however, Catherine saw a good deal of her family. She was one of the few people who got along with Vivienne and usually had dinner with her and Paul at least once a week, and she was a frequent visitor at La Grange. She was delighted now to see Juliet, whom she had pressed to visit her, and she hurried to the gate to greet her – albeit with a warning.
‘You’d better not leave your car there. The road is dreadfully twisty and not very wide. I’ll open the gate so you can bring it into the drive. Then we’ll go in and have a cup of tea.’
‘Sorry – I’m not used to being so cramped for space,’ Juliet apologised when she had parked the car behind Catherine’s on the tarmacadamed drive.
Catherine led the way into the cottage, throwing her hat down on a comfortably cushioned chair in the kitchen and setting the kettle on the stove. Instantly a smell of burning sugar filled the kitchen.
‘Damn,’ Catherine said. ‘I must have spilled something on that ring again. Oh well, it’ll burn off, won’t it?’
Juliet smiled. There really was no point of comparison between Catherine and the rest of the family. At La Grange Sophia employed a housekeeper, a daily woman and a gardener, and Viv, though her home was smaller and much less elaborate, had all the paid help she needed to avoid carrying out any onerous domestic chores for herself. All of them lived a lifestyle of unashamed luxury – paid for, presumably, by the success of the hotel and leisure empire.
And fashioned on the same lines, Juliet thought wryly. One of the first things she had done on arriving in Jersey had been to look around each of the four hotels and she had been duly impressed by what she had seen. En suite bathrooms were furnished with monogrammed towels and bathrobes, a heated towel rail and a special line in toiletries. In the bedrooms a television set received satellite programmes as well as the usual channels, there was a stereo radio console and each room had its own well-stocked and refrigerated mini bar. But this was just the beginning of the special care lavished on the guests who were, from the moment they walked through the doors, treated as honoured visitors. Regardless of the hour of day or night porters whisked luggage upstairs in one of the huge mirrored lifts while receptionists took orders for morning papers, laundry and special dietary requirements. Five minutes after arrival a pot of tea was delivered to the room (a trick Bernard had borrowed from the great hotels of the Far East) and when the maid turned down the beds at night she laid a chocolate or a flower on the pillow.
Juliet, used to the much more functional life of well-to-do but not excessively wealthy Australia, was fascinated and amused, as she was when she had visited the smart offices that formed the hub of the Langlois empire. As David had shown her along the corridor, carpeted and hung with framed water colours, to the board room where a buffet lunch had been laid out in her honour she had noticed the deference with which staff treated him and thought that it was easy to imagine the other members of the family commanding exactly the same respect.
Perhaps, she thought, it was because they expected it that they were treated like visiting royalty – even Sophia, who had served time for the killing of her son, would still merit the same approach from the staff, most of whom had probably long since forgotten what had happened anyway. But Catherine was quite different. The staff might like her very much indeed – they almost certainly did – but their approach would reflect her own friendliness. Catherine did not stand on ceremony. She had no time for it at all. It was not that she was embarrassed exactly by the glamour and opulence, rather that it had quite simply passed her by. She did not notice it and certainly did not seek any special treatment and because of this Juliet was totally at ease with her in a way it was not possible to be totally at ease with the others after only a week’s acquaintance however much she might like them. They belonged, quite obviously, to the island’s aristocracy. Catherine, not to put too fine a point on it, was unashamedly ordinary.
‘So – what do you think of Jersey?’ Catherine asked, setting out large pottery mugs on the scrubbed wood table and dropping a one-cup teabag into each. ‘Is it as you expected? Oh – do move my hat and sit down. There’s a peg behind the door but I’m afraid I’m very lazy about using it.’
Juliet took the hat and hung it up with some difficulty since a raincoat, a cardigan and a PVC apron bearing the legend Colman’s Mustard were already in occupation.
‘I think Jersey is beautiful,’ she said, returning to the cushioned carver, ‘though I was pretty staggered at how small it is. One side to the other in a couple of hours or even less! It takes that long to get out of the Sydney suburbs!’
‘Perhaps that has something to do with the traffic,’ Catherine suggested.
‘Well perhaps. But it’s size too. Have you ever been to Australia, Aunt Catherine?’
Catherine shook her head. ‘ No, I haven’t. I always meant to but I never did.’
‘You should have done. Mum and Dad would have been pleased to see you.’
‘Yes.’ Catherine turned, the kettle in her hand, and briefly Juliet caught the most uncompromising look on her expressive face. So totally at odds with her usual open and friendly smile was it that Juliet’s stomach knotted with sudden shock. Catherine’s generous mouth had hardened, her eyes narrowed. The look passed as suddenly as it had appeared but Juliet was left in no doubt as to what it had meant. Either Robin or Molly was far from being Catherine’s favourite person. She had never come to Australia because she had not wanted to see either one or both of them.
Not for the first time Juliet found herself wondering just why her parents had emigrated. All her life they had given her vague answers to the question – they liked the idea of the sunshine, Robin had disliked being tied up with the business, they wanted space and freedom. When they had dropped the bombshell story of the family scandal and had added the explanation that they had wanted to give her a fresh start away from the wagging tongues she had accepted it at face value. Now, however, she found herself wondering if perhaps there had been additional reasons. Had there been trouble between her parents and the rest of the family? Might that not explain why there had been so little contact over the years? And had it been a long standing feud or was it all connected, somehow, with Louis’s death?
Catherine was pouring boiling water onto the teabags without the slightest hint of apology or even awareness that such relaxed methods were not at all in keeping with the way the other members of the family entertained.
‘So,’ she asked gaily, ‘are we as you expected us to be?’
Juliet took a spoon and began squashing the teabag against the side of the mug.
‘I didn’t really know what to expect. I knew your names and that I got cheques at birthdays and Christmas and that was about all. But there was a great deal I didn’t know. A great deal I’d never been told.’
‘You mean …’ There was a wary look in Catherine’s eyes.
‘It was only when I announced my intention of visiting Jersey that Mum and Dad told me … well, about Grandma.’
‘You didn’t know?’ Catherine said, startled.
‘No. I had no idea at all.’
‘Good heavens! Still, I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me really. Your mo
ther always liked her little secrets. Even so …’
Juliet extracted the teabag from her mug and put it on the saucer Catherine had placed in the centre of the table for that purpose. Quite suddenly her mind was made up.
‘Aunt Catherine … what did happen?’
‘I thought you said they had told you at long last.’
‘Well yes, but only the bare bones really – that Dad had two brothers, not one as I’d always believed, and when Grandpa died Louis, the eldest, tried to run things his way and caused a lot of trouble. Because of this there was a terrible quarrel and Grandma shot Louis, for which she went to prison. But there’s a lot I don’t understand and to be honest I have the feeling Mum still hasn’t told me everything.’
‘I see.’ Catherine turned to take the lid off a large square tin of assorted cream hiscuits. She was all too aware of how transparent she could be and the last thing she wanted now was for Juliet to read her thoughts – that almost certainly Molly would not have told her daughter everything.
If I were her I think I’d be inclined to keep quiet about certain aspects and I’m not secretive as she is! Catherine thought wryly.
Aloud she said: ‘I don’t know that I can tell you much more than you already know – I was away from Jersey when it happened. In London. I taught there, you know, for many years.’
Juliet’s face fell.
‘Almost everyone could tell you more than I could,’ Catherine continued. ‘Your Uncle Paul and your father were responsible for sorting everything out.’
‘I expect Daddy hated that.’
‘I expect he did. The bulk of the responsibility fell to Paul, I believe. David was too young to be much involved – he was only nineteen at the time and still at college.’
‘You mean he wasn’t in Jersey when it happened?’
‘Oh yes, he was. He’d had a bad dose of ’flu and came home to recuperate. So you see any of them would be far better placed than me to answer your questions.’ She selected a bourbon cream, bit into it and pushed the tin towards Juliet. ‘Do have one. They’re delicious.’
Juliet shook her head. ‘No thanks. I’d better not. I’m going out for dinner with Grandma this evening and she tends to go in for four courses at least.’
‘She is probably making up for the time when she had to live on the food provided by one of Her Majesty’s institutions,’ Catherine said drily.
‘It must have been quite dreadful for her,’ Juliet said, shocked that Catherine could joke about it.
‘I’m sure it was. Luckily for her she got off very lightly. I dare say her previous good character and her standing in the island helped in that respect but her light sentence owed a good deal to Daniel Deffains.’
‘Daniel Deffains?’
‘Her advocate. He did a first rate job under very difficult circumstances.’
Juliet wrapped her hands around her mug.
‘Frankly I find the whole thing almost beyond belief. It seemed incredible when Mum told me about it and now that I’ve met Grandma … well, I just can’t believe she could have done something like that.’
Catherine nodded. The evasiveness had gone now; she simply looked sad and a little puzzled.
‘I know. We all felt the same way.’
‘So if nobody believed she did it why was she found guilty?’ Juliet asked. ‘ It simply doesn’t make sense.’
‘She was found guilty because she insisted she was guilty,’ Catherine said gently.
‘So what exactly happened?’
‘Sophia had been to a gala in St Helier. She got home shortly before midnight – her chauffeur dropped her off at the front door of La Grange. Twenty minutes later the emergency services received a telephone call from Sophia asking for the police and an ambulance. She said she had shot Louis.’
‘And they believed her.’
‘Well – Louis was dead.’
‘But it’s not unheard of for people to make false confessions, is it?’
‘I don’t know, Juliet.’
‘But you thought at the time …’
‘Like you I couldn’t believe Sophia could have done something like that, and neither did Daniel Deffains. I’m certain that was the reason he did such a magnificent job on her behalf. If anyone but Dan had been defending her she could very well have ended up with a much longer sentence.’ Catherine was a little flushed and breathless but Juliet did not notice.
‘But even he couldn’t get her off entirely,’ she said, still faintly accusing.
‘You don’t understand, my dear. He was totally hamstrung …’ Catherine broke off, remembering the impassioned conversation she had had with the advocate when she had come dashing home to Jersey on hearing of her sister’s arrest.
‘How could you let them charge her, Daniel?’ she had demanded furiously. ‘It’s ludicrous – crazy!’
‘Sophia insists she was responsible,’ Daniel had said, his eyes behind his gold rimmed spectacles haunted with anxiety. ‘She wants to plead guilty and take whatever punishment is meted out to her. All I can do is try to put her case as sympathetically as possible.’
‘But she didn’t do it!’
‘She says she did. She is my client, Catherine; it’s my duty to go along with her wishes. The whole thing is a trifle unusual, it’s true. Generally speaking it is a client’s innocence I have to believe in if I am to represent them. But unusual or not the ethics are the same. I have to do my best for her on the basis of believing what she tells me. I can’t go running around playing policeman – I don’t have the brief to do that.’
‘I see. You don’t want to help her!’ Catherine had flared.
‘Of course I want to help her. Good heavens, I’ve known you both all my life. Nothing would please me more than to go into court and prove her innocent. But she is quite determined I should not do that.’
‘She gave him nothing to go on,’ Catherine said now to Juliet. ‘From first to last she insisted that she and Louis had quarrelled and she had accidentally shot him.’
‘But how could that have happened?’
‘Oh, Juliet, I don’t know. It was all so long ago. All I know is I simply couldn’t believe it. Sophia worshipped Louis. Of all the boys he was … very special to her. And besides …’ She broke off, biting her lip.
‘Besides what?’
‘Sophia was afraid of guns,’ Catherine said, choosing her words with care. ‘I found it very difficult to believe she had been handling one, let alone that she actually pulled the trigger, accidentally or otherwise.’
‘She had a phobia, you mean?’
Catherine hesitated. ‘Something like that.’
‘So – why didn’t you stand up in court and say so?’
‘Oh Juliet …’ Catherine sighed. ‘Because she asked me not to.’
‘But why?’
‘Sophia was determined to take the blame for Louis’s death.’
‘You mean she was protecting someone?’
‘I don’t know. We went through all kinds of theories at the time. I even remember wondering if she had simply been unhinged by the whole thing and really believed she had done it. As I said, she adored Louis. It occurred to me to wonder if he might have been killed by an intruder and she had found him when she came in from the gala and … just flipped. But the police wouldn’t hear of such a thing. And considering what a very strong, calm and resourceful person Sophia is it does seem very unlikely.’
‘Maybe.’ Juliet’s face had set in a determined line. ‘But I’m sure Grandma didn’t kill Louis. I’ve been sure from the moment I met her. It’s nothing to do with anything anyone has told me, it’s just a gut feeling. And you have it too, don’t you?’
‘Yes. But I think you should remember that we are talking about something which happened a very long time ago. I know it’s new to you and it’s understandable you should be interested. But we have lived with it for almost twenty years.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘We have accepte
d it and put it behind us. I don’t mind talking to you about it but you might find other members of the family less eager to do so. I think you would be wise to do as we have done and forget it ever happened.’
‘How can you say that?’ Juliet’s eyes were feverishly bright. ‘ If Grandma didn’t kill Louis, if she served a prison sentence for a crime she did not commit, then surely it’s only right that we should try to clear her name? To be honest, I can’t understand why you did not pursue it at the time.’
‘Juliet, I’ve told you …’
‘I know. I hear what you say. But you must see how it looks to me. She is my grandmother, remember.’
‘And my sister.’
‘Yes, but that’s not quite the same.’ Juliet broke off, not sure how to express the deep-seated need she was beginning to feel which went beyond proving Sophia’s innocence for her sake alone – the need to know for herself whether she was the granddaughter of a murderess and what blood any children she might have would carry in their veins. It was not something that had occurred to her immediately, rather it had crept up on her insidiously, beginning with the look she had seen in Sean’s eyes when she had told him the story Molly had told her. It really was not very nice to feel that you might be the direct descendant of someone who could do such a dreadful thing and in a way Juliet could understand Sean’s shock at learning that she might be; illogical or not it did actually matter more than she would have ever believed possible.
‘Juliet,’ Catherine said, ‘don’t drag it all up again. Let it rest.’ There was a note of pleading in her voice and she leaned forward and touched her great-niece’s arm. ‘For your own sake, for your own peace of mind, leave well alone.’
A moment’s sharp unease prickled over Juliet’s skin.
‘Why?’ she asked.
Catherine hesitated. Her cheeks were faintiy flushed and she could no longer meet Juliet’s eyes.
