Aimée, tired more than shy, swayed a couple of times and looked up at her mother. Claire raised her eyebrows and nodded encouragingly. ‘Hello,’ Aimée whispered.
Mitch was fond of his half-sister. So fond of her that he and Claire had named their daughter after her. She had written to him regularly throughout the war. When he returned to England after several years working with the French Resistance, and several more years in a prison, there were dozens of letters waiting for him. They still wrote to each other, though not as often now she was married and ran a business with her husband.
People coming out of the restricted area into the arrivals hall were having to stop and walk round the Mitchell family as they gathered around Aimée the aunt and Aimée the niece.
‘We’re blocking the way,’ Claire said. Mitch grabbed the cases and Claire took their daughter by the hand. They followed Mitch’s sister to the public area where they were met by a rugged-looking young man. Standing six feet tall with a healthy all-weather complexion and fair hair, he shook their hands vigorously introducing himself as Aimée’s husband, Dan.
A second later, Dan had whipped the suitcases out of Mitch’s hands and was striding across the airport to the main exit. ‘I’ll get the car,’ he said, setting down the suitcases by a row of chairs just inside the door.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Mitch said, running to catch up with Dan.
While they waited for their husbands, Mitch’s sister told Claire and Aimée about Dan’s logging business, in Quebec.
‘Does he cut the trees down?’ Aimée asked.
‘He used to. But now he drives a big machine called a crawler tractor.’ Aimée looked puzzled. ‘It has big loading arms that Dan has to guide.’ Mitch’s sister demonstrated using her own arms. ‘One is straight,’ she said, her left arm at right angles to her body, ‘and goes under the pile of logs, and one is called a claw.’ She lifted her right arm, bent it at the elbow and made a hook of her hand. ‘The claw goes over the top of the logs and hooks around them so they don’t fall off. Then it lifts them up, drops them onto the back of a big lorry, and they’re taken to the river.’
‘Is that where you live?’
‘Yes, but not where the logs are. They’re taken to a big river called the Ottawa River. Dan and I live in a cabin upstream.’ Aimée made an O of her mouth and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. ‘From my kitchen window I can see the River Gatineau.’
‘Are there any shops near your cabin?’
‘Yes. We live on the outskirts of a town called Hull. Would you like to visit us one day and see how the logs in the forest are cut down?’
Aimée’s eyes grew wider with each revelation about logs and cabins. ‘Can we, Mummy?’
Before Claire had time to answer, Dan came running into the building. ‘Are you guys ready?’ The women quickly got to their feet and gathered their belongings. ‘Sorry to rush you,’ he said, ‘but we can’t park for long out front. Alain is standing guard with his ID at the ready in case anyone tries to move the car on.’ Dan picked up the cases and led the way out of the airport.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was ten miles from the airport to the apartment where Mitch, Claire and Aimée would be living for the next three months. The wind, by the time they had driven into Montréal, had enough rain in it for Dan to have to put on the windscreen wipers. He pulled up as near to the apartment building’s main entrance as possible. The women jumped out of the car and ran for the lobby, leaving the men to follow with the luggage.
The sitting room was neat and spacious and looked as if it had been recently decorated. Wallpaper on three walls and the fourth, which was really only two large alcoves on either side of a tiled fireplace, had been freshly painted in a pale cream colour to contrast with the richer cream and dark dusky pink of the flowers on the wallpaper. Claire took off Aimée’s coat and hung it up in the hall.
‘This is my bedroom,’ Aimée announced, disappearing into the first room along the short corridor. ‘Look, that word is Paris and that one is bonjour - and that’s the Eiffel Tower. It’s the same as Grandma Édith’s ornament on top of the cupboard in her sitting room,’ Aimée said, and ran out of the room.
Claire pulled back the bedspread and was pleased to see the white sheets and pillowcase had been freshly laundered. She looked around the room. The woodwork - the door, bedside cupboard, narrow bookcase and the wardrobe had been painted in the same pastel green as the script on the wallpaper and the shade on the overhead light. Returning with her books Aimée began to place them on the bookcase that faced her bed.
‘Alain and Dan are here with the cases,’ Claire’s sister-in-law said, poking her head around the door. ‘Oh, la la,’ she sang. ‘I love this room.’
‘It’s mine,’ Aimée said. ‘And these are my books. I have school books in my case, too.’
Smiling, Claire’s sister-in-law said, ‘Shall I tell them to put the cases in the master bedroom for now, while we have something to eat?’
‘Eat? Goodness I hadn’t thought about food. Yes, please, Aimée. I’ll be with you in a minute.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Sweetheart, finish that later. You must be hungry.’
Aimée followed her mother out of her bedroom.
‘Hi, honey,’ Mitch said, coming out of the second bedroom. Claire took a peek as she passed. It had a double bed and was larger than Aimée’s room. She’d look in detail later.
‘Oh, my God!’ she exclaimed, walking into the sitting room. ‘Where did all this food come from?’
‘We brought it with us,’ Dan said. ‘Aimée’s been baking for days. Come, sit down, she won’t be a minute.’
‘Hardly, Dan,’ Mitch’s sister shouted from the kitchen. ‘I only made the meatloaf and pickle. Oh, and the Tourtiere meat pie.’
‘And the Montréal bagels,’ Dan added. ‘You’ll love them, Claire. Bagels and cream cheese. Come on, tuck in.’
‘This,’ Mitch’s sister said, entering the sitting room with a large bowl of French fries, ‘is what we call an indoor picnic. And, no indoor picnic is good without fries and ketchup. What do you say, Aimée?’
Aimée clapped her hands. ‘They are like chips, fat like Nanny Dudley makes at Foxden.’
‘The fatter the better,’ Mitch’s sister said, forking a mound onto Aimée’s plate. ‘Come on, Alain, Claire, help yourselves,’ she said, taking her seat at the table.
When they had finished eating, Mitch and his sister washed the dishes. While Claire unpacked and hung up their clothes, Dan sat with Aimée on the settee and entertained her with photographs of him and his father standing next to tall trees, piles of logs after the trees had been felled, and trees floating like huge rafts in the river.
Claire was hanging up the last of her clothes in the double-wardrobe in their bedroom when Mitch looked in. ‘I’ve put Aimée to bed. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. I told her you’d go in and say goodnight.’
‘Of course. I’ve just finished in here.’ Claire pushed the empty suitcase to the back of the large wardrobe and shut the door. ‘I’ll go into her now.’
‘Coffee when you’re ready,’ Mitch said, leaving the bedroom.
‘Okay,’ she called, ‘I won’t be long.’
Claire crept into Aimée’s room. She was fast asleep. A triangle of white sheet hung below the bedspread and Claire tucked it under the mattress. Aimée didn’t stir. It was no wonder, she’d had a long and exciting day.
‘We have something to tell you both,’ Mitch’s sister said, when Claire sat down with her coffee. Aimée looked up at her husband and giggled. ‘It’s a secret. We shouldn’t be telling you until we’ve told Mom and Dad, and Dan’s parents, but…’ She held her breath, ‘We’re having a baby.’
‘Congratulations, Sis.’ Mitch jumped up and threw his arms around his sister, then pumped Dan’s hand.
‘That’s wonderful news,’ Claire said, looking from Aimée to Dan. ‘When?’
‘Not until March. It’s a long way off. We didn’t want to
tell anyone until I had passed the first trimester date, which was yesterday. But because we have to go home tomorrow, I thought I’d better tell you now.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Mitch made a sad face.
‘What a shame you have to leave so soon,’ Claire added.
‘She has a hospital appointment on Monday,’ Dan said, proudly. He took Aimée’s hand and kissed it. ‘We’re staying with your folks tonight,’ he told Mitch, ‘so we’ll tell them, and we’ll tell mine tomorrow, as soon as we get home.’
‘I’m sorry you can’t stay longer,’ Claire said. ‘I wouldn’t have spent so much time unpacking if I’d known.’ Aimée lifted her hand and flicked the idea away.
‘I’ve left my father to manage on his own. Don’t get me wrong,’ Dan said, ‘he is more than capable. He runs the place like clockwork from the office. But this is the busiest time of year for the logging business. I don’t want him going out with the men and hauling logs the way he did when he was my age.’
Aimée nodded in agreement with her husband. ‘You’ll come over when the baby’s born? Or, better still, when she’s christened. I want my big brother to be her godfather.’
‘It’s a girl then?’ Claire said.
Aimée laughed. ‘Heck, I don’t know.’ She laughed again. ‘And I don’t care. Dan’s father says we should have three boys so he can retire.’
After Aimée and Dan had gone, Claire and Mitch relaxed with a second cup of coffee and listened to the wireless. Most of the stations were in French, which being fluent in the language didn’t matter to Claire, but after playing with the dials, Mitch found the Trans-Canadian Network. They listened to a current affairs programme, and then Mitch tuned the wireless to the Dominion Network, poured them both a Canadian Club and after twiddling the button to get rid of a crackling noise, settled down to listen to a local station called, Montréal CFCF. The presenter announced the coming hour as one of light chat and great music from North America.
Perry Como’s 1948 hit “Because” was the first song to come over the airwaves and fill the small warm room with romantic words, followed by Doris Day and Buddy Clark singing “Love Somebody.” ‘This is the ticket,’ Mitch said, as Ella Fitzgerald began to sing Evening shadows make me blue, the opening lyrics to “My Happiness.”
When the song came to an end, Mitch switched off the wireless and put his empty glass on the table and Claire swallowed the last of her whisky. ‘Shall we go to bed, China?’ he said, taking her glass from her.
She stood up, looked into her husband’s eyes and, smiling, offered him her hand. He pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he kissed her again, more passionately, and guided her to the bedroom humming, My Happiness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Claire wore a navy blue tailored suit with wide lapels, four buttons at the nipped-in waist, and a cream silk scarf - bought specially for the occasion. Keeping an eye on the time, she applied her makeup to look as natural as possible.
She arrived at breakfast to the voice of wireless presenter Jack Dennett talking about the state of the traffic in Montréal, Aimée tucking into a boiled egg and bread and butter and Mitch drinking coffee. He gave Claire a loving smile. ‘You look beautiful, honey.’
‘Mummy’s pretty,’ Aimée said.
‘Thank you.’ Claire curtsied to her daughter. Then to Mitch, she said, ‘I haven’t overdone it, have I?’
He shook his head. ‘You look perfect.’
Nervous at the prospect of meeting her in-laws, Claire wasn’t hungry but agreed with Mitch that she ought to eat something. Besides, a little food would settle the butterflies in her tummy. Sitting down next to Aimée, she took a slice of toast from the rack and buttered it. As she ate, Mitch poured her a cup of coffee.
‘Right!’ Mitch said, when Claire and Aimée had finished eating, ‘we’d better make a move.’ He cleared the table, taking their dirty dishes to the kitchen, and went into the hall. When he returned he was wearing his air force blue overcoat. ‘Ready?’
The rented car, a four-door saloon, was twice as big as any car Claire had seen in England. But then the Canadian roads were twice as wide, if not wider. Mitch steered the car away from the curb and into the traffic. Claire expected to hear horns blasting out in protest, as they would have done in England, but not a beep. With three lanes solidly packed with cars, drivers were probably used to cars pulling out in front of them.
‘Darling? What do your father and step-mother call you?’
Mitch laughed. ‘The old man has called me a few unsavoury things in his time. Especially when I was a kid. Poor guy. I blamed him for everything that went wrong after Mom died.’
‘Be serious!’ Claire said. ‘Does your father call you Mitch or Alain?’
‘Alain. Why?’
‘Because I shall call you Alain while we’re in Canada,’ Claire said. ‘Alain is who you are to your father and step-mother - and to Grandma Esther. Mitch is your nickname, the name you’re known by at the base. It’s what your buddies call you.’
‘Does that mean I have to stop calling you China?’ Alain said, laughing, ‘I rather like China.’
‘Mummy’s name is Claire,’ Aimée piped up from the back seat. ‘It’s a nice name, Daddy.’
‘Okay, Claire it is.’ Alain looked in the reverse mirror and winked at his daughter.
‘So, Alain,’ Claire said pointedly, ‘are you looking forward to seeing your father and step-mother?’
‘Yes. It’s been a while.’ He shot Claire a sideways glance. ‘I didn’t visit them the last couple of times I came over on air force business, so…’
‘So I’d better not tell them you’ve been to Canada twice during the last year?’ Alain gave her a cheeky grin but didn’t reply. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.’
Claire settled back in the passenger seat and looked out of the window. They had no sooner joined the highway than they left it for Montréal’s tree-lined avenues and an area called Petite Montagne, the suburb where Alain’s father and step-mother lived.
‘What a pretty area,’ Claire said. ‘Look out of the window, Aimée. There’s a big park. See all the trees? Their leaves are turning red and orange. Do you remember we saw those trees in the book we borrowed from the library?’
‘They’re called Sugar Maple trees,’ her father told her. ‘There’s a lake in that park. It’s real big.’
‘Mm,’ Aimée said, without much interest. ‘Are we nearly there, Daddy?’ she asked, with a sigh.
‘We are, honey. One more corner, and…’ Alain turned the steering wheel to the left and the car freewheeled over a dropped pavement onto a wide drive, coming to a halt at the side of a garage.
Looking out of a large bay window at the front of the house was a man in his mid-sixties, who Claire assumed was Alain’s father. His arm was around the shoulders of a pretty middle-aged woman with fair hair. She waved excitedly and Claire waved back.
By the time Alain had got out of the car and opened the back door for Aimée the woman had left the house by the front door and was running towards them. Aimée jumped out of the car as she arrived and the woman put her hands up to her face. Crouching down so she was level with Aimée, she said, ‘Hi Aimée, I’m your Grandma, Marie. I am so pleased to meet you. I can’t believe you are finally here,’ Marie Mitchell said. Taking hold of Aimée’s hand, she stood up. She looked from Alain to Claire and wiped tears from her eyes.
A second later Alain’s father came out of the house. ‘Alain?’ he called, jogging towards his son. He held Alain’s hand, then threw his arms around him and hugged him. Slapping him on the back, he said, ‘It’s been too long, Son.’
‘It has, Dad.’
Releasing Alain, his father turned to Claire and welcomed her, kissing her on both cheeks, while his wife stood on tip-toe and hugged Alain.
‘And who do we have here?’ Alain’s father asked.
‘Why, Grandpa, this is Aimée,’ his wife said. Aimée’s new grandparents knelt down and her gran
dfather shook Aimée’s hand before gathering her up in his arms. ‘Welcome to Canada, young lady.’
Aimée looked overwhelmed. She smiled politely and nodded but didn’t speak. Her new grandmother pretended to shiver. ‘I think we should go inside, don’t you, Aimée?’ She looked at her husband. ‘It’s a little cold out here in the wind, dear.’
‘What? Oh, yes. Come in, come in.’ Alain senior said, leading the way to the front of the house, while his wife took Aimée by the hand. Aimée turned to her parents. They nodded, and she skipped along at Marie Mitchell’s side. When they were in the house, Alain’s father helped his son and daughter-in-law out of their coats and hung them up. He showed them into the front room, where Aimée and Marie were already seated by the fire.
The house, like everything Claire had seen during the short time she’d been in Canada, was big. The interior was spacious, and the windows were wider and taller than the windows in most modern English family houses. Especially those built between the wars.
‘Where’s my sister? I thought she’d still be here.’
‘They needed to get away early,’ Alain senior said. He directed the reason why to Claire. ‘Aimée and her husband have a logging company some miles away. And,’ he beamed a broad smile at Claire and his son, ‘to heck with that. Aimée is going to have a baby.’
Marie put her hands up to her mouth. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? A cousin for you, Aimée, and another grandchild for Grandpa and me,’ she said, kneeling down and making a happy face at Aimée.
She’s nice, Claire thought, and said, ‘Congratulations, Marie. That’s wonderful news.’
‘Do you like Dan, Dad?’
‘Yes, he’s a good guy. The point is, your sister loves him and that’s all that matters.’
It might have had something to do with the cookies and soda that Marie Mitchell gave her, but Aimée took to her new grandmother straight away. ‘I have three Grandmas,’ Aimée told her. ‘Grandma Édith who lives in France, Grandma Dudley - she lives at Foxden - and now Grandma Marie in Canada.'
Chasing Ghosts Page 3