City of Strangers

by Louise Millar

  ‘Valentin?’

  Anna dabbed at her eyes. ‘I haven’t told him about Lucian.’ It was then that Grace saw the baby asleep in a buggy. A little girl, around a year old.

  ‘Lucian’s?’ she said, astonished.

  Anna nodded, and fresh tears fell. Grace touched her arm. ‘Anna, I’m so sorry you heard the news like this. I need to explain to you that I’m writing a story for Scots Today. But it’s a personal story, about finding Lucian in my flat and trying to track down his identity and find his loved ones. If I ask you what has been happening, would you be happy to talk?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘Not on the record. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Then speak to me off the record,’ Grace said. ‘But, Anna, please speak to me. The police are releasing François Boucher’s name to the press today. François is the name Lucian used. Do you know that?’

  Anna nodded, wiping away tears.

  ‘The Scottish press won’t be interested,’ Grace continued, ‘but French crime reporters will be. François – or Lucian’s – boss, René Boucher, was famous in Paris. Once they get hold of this, the story will break here, too. And if journalists speak to the people I’ve met who knew Lucian, it’s not going to be good. This is a chance for you to tell Lucian’s side.’

  ‘Without my name involved?’

  Grace took out her voice recorder. ‘I’ll make it a condition with Scots Today before I file my story. I promise.’

  Anna scanned the sea, pale blue eyes glazed with shock. ‘Nobody ever spoke up for Lucian.’

  ‘Then you’ll do it. Please.’

  Anna motioned to a table.

  The sun was out, but Anna wrapped a shawl around her as Grace set up the recording.

  A single tree sat in a pot by the table. ‘I kill plants,’ Anna said, a rueful smile. ‘Not like Lucian – he made things live.’

  ‘He was good at gardening?’ Grace settled back.

  ‘Yes, he helped Mitti in Amsterdam. I met him when they were planting lupins. He was too shy to speak, but he played football with Valentin.’

  ‘That’s where you met?’

  Anna fought back tears. ‘I started to sit with him in the evenings, at the garden door, while Valentin slept. I was a little lonely in Amsterdam, and Lucian was trying to learn English, so we spoke it together.’

  ‘And you became friends?’

  Anna pushed tears back with her palms. ‘Not at first. At first, it was like he was locked behind a wall. His face was hard, but when he smiled . . . Well, when Valentin ran to him, it almost burst off his face.’

  ‘Did he tell you about Romania?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not at first. Later, he told me stories about his father. Horrible things.’

  ‘Like?’

  Anna tapped her back. ‘He had scars, here. He said it was an accident, when he was a child. Then later, he said his father beat him, and forced him to do terrible things to people. Lucian was petrified of him. The father beat the mother, too. If they didn’t do what he said, he’d put Lucian down a freezing-cold well all night. His mother couldn’t protect him. Everybody in their village was terrified. The man was deranged. He killed people by tying them up and putting them down wells alive, so that it would contaminate the water supply. He killed animals for fun. Lucian had no friends. He was quiet and sensitive, like his mother. In two years, he never raised his voice to me or Valentin.’

  She chose her words carefully. ‘Do you know why Lucian left Romania?’

  Grace hugged herself tight. ‘He lied about that for a long time. He said work. But I found out later he’d had to escape. When the revolution happened, his father paid to be smuggled out by this French gang who traded cigarettes with him on the black market. When Drac was caught and executed, they took Lucian instead. But instead of helping him like they’d been paid to do, they used him. Forced him to work for them. If he refused, they threatened to send him back to Romania to be tried for murder. He was very scared, and alone. He kept trying to run. The third time, they broke his leg with a hammer. He was sixteen.’

  ‘This was the Bouchers?’ Grace said, shocked.

  ‘Not at first,’ Anna said. ‘It was a gang who worked for René Boucher in Marseilles. René took a liking to Lucian at some point when he was there, and brought him to live with him back in Paris. I think he saw his . . . potential.’

  She sank her face into her hands. ‘Lucian’s life was so brutal. He said that meeting me was the first time he’d felt love since his mother.’ She wiped wet cheeks. ‘She loved him so much when he was a child, but being Drac’s wife made her sick. She lost her mind. Lucian took her ring when he ran. A little green one. It’s all he had of her. He always wore it.’

  Grace nodded.

  ‘Did you love him, Anna?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why did you leave?’

  A dog barked below the terrace. A teenager threw a stick and it raced across the sand.

  ‘Because he put Valentin in danger.’

  ‘How?’

  A brittle tone entered Anna’s voice. ‘Because his lies never stopped. About his name. His divorce in Paris. His job.’

  ‘His job?’ Grace asked.

  ‘He told me he worked as a painter at night, but it wasn’t true. He sold drugs in Amsterdam. Sold misery. I saw those people at the hospital where I worked. Lucian was doing it to them.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘He came in one night in a terrible state. Frightened. He told me everything. That he had been run by these gangsters in Paris since he was sixteen. And that when René died, his right-hand man, this gangster Mathieu Caron, stole the Marseilles route off René’s sons and forced Lucian to be his deputy. Lucian knew it was his chance finally to escape. He persuaded Mathieu to run a second route from Marseilles into Amsterdam, where nobody knew him. While they set it up, Lucian managed to buy false papers from a man he met in a club, and rent a second, secret apartment that Mathieu knew nothing about under a different name.’

  ‘That’s when he became Lucian Grabole?’

  ‘Yes. And it worked. For a year, he lived a normal life as Lucian Grabole. Only part of each day, but it was something. He saved money, and his plan was to get an American or Australian visa and escape Mathieu Caron altogether. Just disappear in the night. Then he met me and it became complicated. He kept waiting for the right time to tell me the truth. To persuade me to go with him. But Mathieu Caron found out from one of his contacts that he was trying to buy a new passport under the name “Lucian Grabole”. He followed him back to our apartments and found out what was going on. He went crazy and threatened to kill me and Valentin.’

  Her face froze, as the waves of shock at his death hit her again. ‘I pretended to be calm about it, and told Lucian to go and pack, and we’d run together. Then I slipped away with Valentin and drove to Copenhagen. We left everything in Amsterdam. My job at the hospital. Valentin’s nursery.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘At first, to my father’s house, but Lucian broke into the concierge’s office and found my address in Copenhagen. He followed me there.’

  The softness appeared in her face again. ‘He was desperate. He kept saying he was sorry, but I was so scared these guys would follow him and hurt Valentin. I moved to Karen’s apartment, but he didn’t stop. He made visits, sent me letter after letter. My aunt hated me for what I’d done to our family. Embarrassing them publicly. At that point, I was offered a two-month contract in London covering for a colleague doing a charity sabbatical abroad. I told Karen to tell Lucian we were visiting my mother in Florida. I thought he’d give up. My aunt and Karen and I agreed that if any strangers came looking for me and Valentin, they’d say I’d died in a car accident in Florida.’

  ‘In case it was Mathieu Caron looking for you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wiped the tears with her shawl, and checked her watch. ‘I have to fetch Valentin from school.’

  ‘Of course,’ Grace said. ‘Anna, do you stil
l have Lucian’s letters?’

  ‘Yes. Here.’ She fetched a bundle from a drawer, took the buggy. She held them back.

  ‘I’ll do nothing without your permission.’

  Anna handed them over, and promised to return in half an hour.

  Grace stared at the handwriting, hardly believing the journey she’d taken. It was the same looped font she’d found in her kitchen a week ago. The language was English, the grammar and spelling unpredictable. Some words and sentences had been scored through and she imagined Lucian poring over this paper with great earnestness, as if this was now all that mattered in his life. Still, the sentiment was clear. Lucian was desperate.

  She photographed them carefully, as a pile, and singly, removing Anna’s name, in case she gave her permission to use them later.

  Random passages quickly confirmed what Anna had told her: You and my mother are the softness in my life. The light, the love. I won’t give you up . . . Do you remember that night Valentin fell asleep by us, and we said we loved each other?

  As she opened each letter, the tone changed. In one, the address was from the Cozmas’ in London. Anna, I can’t find you in London. Please answer me. I will make everything all right, I promise. Write to me at this address . . .

  She read on and knew she was reading the private letters of a desperate man, trying to cling on to the one piece of good in his life.

  The door of the cottage opened twenty minutes later and a little boy ran in, wearing a blue jumper, wellies and jeans.

  ‘This is Grace, Valentin. She’s come to visit us,’ Anna said.

  He stopped and held his mother’s hand.

  ‘Hi, Valentin. It’s so nice to meet you.’ Grace smiled.

  His blond hair was longer, and his cheeks were slimmer than in the poster. When he spoke to his mother, eyeing Grace warily, he had a Scottish accent.

  Maybe it was the sea wind or his presence, but Anna’s cheeks were flushed now, her eyes brighter.

  She motioned to the beach. ‘We can let him play down there. He loves it.’

  Grace followed her and Valentin down steps off the terrace. The sun glistened off the sea. The little boy ran onto the sand with a new surety, and she thought of how strange it must have been for Lucian to disappear from his life.

  They settled on the rocks, watching him.

  ‘Anna,’ Grace started, ‘it says in the letters that Lucian was looking for you in London – why?’

  Anna placed Clara, the baby, down on a blanket and the little girl crawled across it, gurgling to herself. ‘He wasn’t stupid. When I didn’t come back from Florida, he searched for my name on the internet and found me at the hospital in London. But by that time, I’d already found a permanent job here. I was pregnant . . .’ She trailed off.

  ‘In Scotland?’

  ‘Yes. The colleague I’d been covering for rang to say Lucian had been asking for me, so I changed to my mother’s maiden name. It took him a while, but he worked that out, too. He turned up here one day, at work. I was seven months pregnant and he realized Clara was his. That just made it worse. I was still terrified of these gangsters looking for us. I told him if he didn’t leave us, I’d ring the police – tell them everything. That day he stopped. He just stopped harassing me, but he didn’t leave. He wrote to say he’d found a job in Edinburgh. It was as if he was just happy to be near us.’

  ‘What was his job?’ Grace asked.

  A fragile smile appeared. ‘Real work. For the first time in his life. Master decorating. He’d done a course secretly in Amsterdam, and was proud of his skills. He kept writing to me here, and I kept throwing the letters away. Then one night, I was lonely. I opened one. Lucian said he wanted nothing more from me, just forgiveness. I ignored it.’ She dabbed her face. ‘He told me his love for me had helped him become an honest man. That he’d always be there for us. One day, I couldn’t help it. I had a conference in Edinburgh. I went in early to the place he was working and watched him through the window. I returned that night on my way home, and he was still working. He must have been exhausted, but there was a new expression on his face. A satisfaction. I knew he was trying to find a way to rebuild his life. Be there for us if we needed him.’

  Valentin ran over to show her a stone, and she talked to him in Danish. Shyly, he showed Grace, too, before running off.

  ‘Not long after that, I went back,’ Anna continued. ‘I waited for him outside with Clara.’ A laugh broke into her expression and briefly Grace glimpsed the woman she must have been before all this. ‘He was so happy. He was crying, meeting his daughter. We started to talk. Then I went again. We talked for longer. I couldn’t help it. I loved him. I couldn’t believe someone who did bad things like that could change, but Lucian started to convince me. One Sunday, I let him come secretly to watch Valentin on the beach. His heart was bursting. When they reunited, Valentin remembered him. The smiles on their faces.’ She drew it with a finger like a pen across her face. ‘Lucian began to come every Sunday, always early in the morning in case the Bouchers had found him. He left the next morning at five. We started to plan a new life together again, in America, near my mother. But we had to find a way for Lucian to get a passport with false papers. That’s what our last conversation was about.’

  Fresh tears flooded her eyes and washed away her resolve. Valentin looked over, tapping his bucket with a spade, and she hid her face. ‘Then, the next Sunday –’ her voice broke ‘– he didn’t come. I waited all night. He didn’t answer his phone.’

  Grace broke in gently, ‘Anna, when Lucian was found in my flat, there was no phone.’

  ‘No phone?’

  ‘No. Did you report him missing?’

  She dried her eyes. ‘How could I? I thought they’d caught him trying to buy a false passport. I knew they’d interview me. I could lose my job. I couldn’t involve the children in that. Then I thought Mathieu Caron had found him, and forced him back to Paris, or hurt him. I was too scared to look in case he hurt the children. I knew Lucian would want me to keep them safe.’

  Valentin looked over, and she knelt to help him, till he began to fill his bucket again. ‘But also, it was so wet that night. The rain was heavy. I thought maybe he’d had an accident on the road coming here. I checked the newspapers for traffic accidents, but there was nothing. Your mind tortures you. I’ve been waiting . . . hoping, and now . . .’

  The baby began to whimper and she went to pick her up.

  Grace changed the subject. ‘Anna, why do you think Lucian was in my flat that night?’

  She kissed the baby’s head. ‘I don’t know. It makes no sense. We were going to leave for America soon. He was earning money. He had a room in Edinburgh. He had us back again. We were just waiting for his papers. The last thing he’d risk was being arrested.’

  Grace found her camera. ‘I’m going to show you something that might upset you. The reason I knew Lucian was in my flat was that I found a note. I thought it was addressed to me, at first, but now I think he just found an old envelope in the kitchen and scribbled on the back.’

  Anna’s eyes rounded as she focused on the viewfinder. ‘That man is not me Lucian Grabole,’ she read out loud. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. She covered her mouth. She looked like she’d gone into shock.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He must have known.’

  ‘Known what?’

  ‘That he was about to die.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Anna pointed. ‘Look. It’s a statement. To the world. About who Lucian was. That man is not me. Signed, Lucian Grabole. It is a note for his children, Valentin and Clara. He wants them to know who he really was. I am not that monster Lucian Tronescu or François Boucher. The real me is the man who loves the three of you – Lucian Grabole.’

  ‘You think someone killed him?’

  Anna clasped her hands. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you said it was an accident.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I’m starting to think it might not have been. Anna
, I need to go back to Edinburgh and do more digging. I know this is torture for you, but would you give me twenty-four hours to see what I can find out?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, defeated.

  ‘The place where you saw Lucian working – where was it?’

  ‘I’ll write down the address.’

  They gathered the children and returned to the terrace. As Grace waited, a silhouette caught her eye down the beach. At first, she thought he was a dog walker who’d lost his animal. His eyes were scanning the cottages along the beach, not the sea or the sand ahead.

  The sun fell behind a cloud.

  Wiry legs, pointed boots. Today in a black leather jacket and a grey beanie.

  Air caught in her lungs.

  She grasped Valentin’s hand and led him inside quickly. Anna turned, confused. Grace beckoned her in and shut the door and curtains.

  ‘Anna, can you put the kids in there?’ She motioned to the sitting room.

  Alarm spread across Anna’s features.

  ‘Please – trust me.’

  Anna did what she said, turning on the television, and returned.

  Grace pointed outside. ‘The man on the beach – I think he’s following me. I think he might be Mathieu Caron.’

  Anna started to tremble. ‘No.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I thought I’d lost him yesterday, but it’s definitely him.’ Grace picked up her camera bag. ‘Listen. He has no idea why I’m here. Nobody does. So I’m going to leave, quickly, before he sees me. Please stay in here till at least an hour after I go. If you see him near the house, ring the police. And remember, if he did kill Lucian, he has nothing to gain by hurting you now. It’s me he wants to stop. He doesn’t know how much information I have.’

  To her surprise, Anna calmed down, perhaps galvanized by the threat to her children. They agreed that she would watch behind the lace curtains in the upstairs dormer and call for Grace to leave when the man was safely down the beach. When the shout came, Grace returned to her car.