Chasing Ghosts

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘That’s how you were after your sessions at the hospital in Canada. You hadn’t been beaten, of course,’ Claire said, ‘not physically.’

  ‘She had been mentally as well as physically hurt. She slipped in and out of sleep. One minute her eyes were open and she was awake, then next they were closed and she was asleep. And all the time she shook uncontrollably. From being fast asleep, her eyes would open and they’d dart around the room. She would look at the window or the door and start screaming. We would calm her down and just when we thought she had settled she would open her eyes again. Once she said she remembered what had happened to her.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She said guard once, and another time dawn.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ‘It sounds to me as if she told them that you were planning to leave at dawn when the guards changed over.’

  ‘We thought that too.’ Mitch shrugged. ‘If she did tell the Germans, it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t able to recall anything that made sense. When she tried she became agitated, repeating the words guard and dawn over and over until she passed out again. Her memory had gone, wiped clean by drugs, or hypnosis, as mine had been by Beckman at the Louis Bertrand hospital.

  ‘She woke once and started to scream. We were worried the guards would hear and take her away again and give her another beating, so I laid down beside her to comfort her. I held her in my arms and rocked her until she quietened. She slept fitfully.

  ‘When she woke, she was lucid. She begged me not to leave. She said the only explanation for her loss of memory after being in the hospital was that she had been drugged, and there was no telling what she had told Beckman.

  ‘She begged us not to go, but it was too late. If we were heading into a trap, so was the Passeur who was waiting to take us across the Pyrenees. So, at dawn, when the guards were changing from night to day shift we made our escape.’ Tears filled Mitch’s eyes.

  ‘And the woman?’ Claire said.

  Mitch hung his head. ‘The guards had kicked her so badly…’ He took a shuddering breath unable to speak. Tears streamed down his face. ‘Her legs--’ he said, at last, ‘were broken.’

  ‘So, you left her behind.’

  ‘Yes.’ He lifted his head and looked at Claire, his eyes searching hers, pleading with her to understand. ‘She told us to go. She said we had no choice, that she would slow us down. And she was right. She couldn’t walk. We’d have had to carry her.’

  They sat again in silence. This time it was Claire who spoke first. ‘Did you think about me? When you were in the prison?’

  ‘I tried not to.’ Claire shot her husband a hurt look. ‘If I had allowed myself to think about you, I wouldn’t have survived. Guys who pined for their sweethearts didn’t last long. They either went mad, or they caused trouble and were shot. The guards singled out anyone who showed any kind of emotion. They saw it as weakness, a reason to take them out into the exercise yard and use them as a punchbag. I didn’t want to die in there, honey, so I compartmentalised the way the SOE trained us to do. I was stuck in that hell-hole for the duration of the war - however long that was going to be - or until I escaped.’ Mitch leaned forward and looked into Claire’s eyes. ‘But you were always with me, China,’ he said, his own eyes glossy with tears. ‘Safe in here.’ He patted his chest next to his heart. Safe in a compartment where no one could hurt you, but beyond my mental reach.’

  Claire looked at her husband, trying her best to understand. ‘Honey, you were fighting with the Resistance. The few times I allowed myself to think about you, I drove myself insane with worry. After I was taken to Gestapo Headquarters, I knew nothing about the outside world. I didn’t know if you’d been arrested too. I felt sure that when the SOE got word I’d been captured they’d recall you. I didn’t know if you’d stayed in England or come back to France and were still working with the Resistance. For all I knew you could have been shot or blown up sabotaging a troop train, as Marcel was.

  ‘Putting all thoughts of you as far away from that vile place as I could, was how I survived.’

  ‘I understand,’ Claire whispered. ‘I’m sorry I asked. I did the same every time I went on a mission. I couldn’t allow myself to worry about you for fear it would affect my work, so I put you in that no man’s land compartment. And when Aimée was born…’ Tears ran down Claire’s cheeks. ‘I did the same with her. I daren’t think about her or you. If I had, and I’d lost concentration, I’d have been a danger to myself, and to the others in the cell.’

  Mitch reached across the table and took hold of Claire’s hands. ‘We’re going to be okay, aren’t we, honey?’

  With every fibre of her being, Claire wanted to say yes. She wanted more than anything to fall into her husband’s arms and for their life together to go back to the way it was before he became ill, but there was still one question she needed to ask. One question she needed him to answer, truthfully, before she could say yes.

  ‘Part of the reason I followed you to France was to clear your name. I didn’t believe a word of what Beckman said in the letter he wrote to your commander. And, after meeting the doctor who saved your life when you were shot and finding out that the doctor treating you in Canada was the German doctor from the prison where you were held in the war, I’m glad I did. Now you won’t be dishonourably discharged and sent back to Canada as a traitor.’

  Mitch started to speak, but Claire put up her hand. ‘Let me finish, it’s important that you know the other reason, perhaps the real reason I came looking for you.’

  Claire was not given to jealousy, but she knew if she didn’t ask Mitch about Simone now, she never would. Then his past would become her present, her future, and it would eat her up inside. ‘I came to France to find out if you were having an affair with the woman you talk about in your sleep; the woman you dream about. Was the woman you dined with last night the woman from the prison at Saint-Gaudens? Was she Simone?’

  Mitch buried his head in his hands ‘Yes,’ he whispered.

  Claire held her breath. Her suspicions had been confirmed. The idea of the man she loved lying with another woman, holding her while she slept, comforting her… ‘Did you love her?’

  ‘Yes.’ Claire gasped. She put her hands up to her mouth to stop herself from crying out.

  ‘But it wasn’t how you think,’ Mitch said.

  ‘No? Then how was it, Mitch?’

  ‘I loved her, yes, but I was not in love with her,’ Mitch said. ‘I was in love with you.’ Claire could see Mitch was struggling to find the right words. ‘We gave each other comfort. Men and women, our friends and comrades, were being killed every day. We didn’t know when it was going to be our turn. Once, for no reason at all, the guards chained me up in the yard and left me there for an entire day. It was early January. Even when it wasn’t blowing a gale and snowing, it was freezing. I had never before felt cold like it. It was beyond bearable. I thought I was going to die. When the guards took my chains off, I couldn’t stand. I crawled back to the hut and fell onto my blanket. I was shivering so much I was convulsing. That was the first time Simone came to me.

  ‘She brought her blanket and wrapped herself and the blanket around me. There was nothing of her, she was skin and bone, but she laid and held me all night. So, when they beat her, tortured her, or abused her--’ Claire’s head shot up and her eyes widened in horror. ‘Yes. They raped her. So, when she needed someone to hold her, I held her, I comforted her.’

  ‘And now?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Now? Although I haven’t seen her for many years, there is still a bond between us, still the closeness we felt for each other. Maybe in different circumstances, at a different time?’ Mitch lifted and dropped his shoulders. ‘Who knows?’

  Mitch’s words, like a tidal wave, crashed down on her, taking her breath away and tearing at her heart. She wanted to scream but was saved from doing so by someone knocking the door. She put on her coat and picked up her handbag, suitcase, and the briefcase. Without l
ooking back at her husband, she crossed to the door. Mitch leapt out of his chair and got to the door first. Barring Claire’s way, he said, ‘Please stay? I want you to meet her.’

  ‘Meet her?’ Unable to look at Mitch for the rage she felt inside, she said, ‘You want me to meet your--?’ A louder tap on the door was followed by, ‘Your taxi is here, Madame Belland.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Claire said, without looking at Mitch. He moved out of her way, she put down the suitcase and opened the door. Taking ten francs from her handbag she said, ‘Would you give this to the driver?’

  ‘You’re not going?’ Mitch said, relief smoothing the lines on his face.

  ‘Not today.’ The porter, like a spectator, looked from Mitch to Claire. ‘I promised the real Doctor Puel that I would take the documents he entrusted to me to Guillaume Cheval, which I now feel able to do.’ Claire turned to the porter. ‘Would you ask the taxi driver to come back in an hour to take me to the Chateau Je Reviendrai?’

  When the porter left, Claire handed the briefcase to Mitch. ‘The documents Doctor Puel gave me are in here. Read them while I telephone Thomas. If I am going to see Guillaume Cheval today, there is no need for him to come up at the weekend.’

  Mitch opened the case, took out a handful of papers and gasped with shock. ‘Good God, where did the old doctor get all this?’

  ‘He has had most of it since just after Beckman murdered his grandson. He had no idea that Beckman has been impersonating his grandson until I told him the name of your psychiatrist in Canada was Lucien Puel. Until then, I think he thought Beckman had used his grandson’s identity to get out of France and back to Germany. I’m going to telephone Thomas,’ Claire said, heading for the door. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘You can telephone him from here, I’ll take these to my room and read them.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t. I promised the old doctor…’

  ‘They’ll be safe enough with me.’ Mitch looked shocked that Claire didn’t trust him.

  ‘I said no! I promised Doctor Puel. Please respect that and do not take them out of this room.’

  ‘Okay!’ Mitch put his hands up. ‘The documents and I will be here when you get back.’

  Claire left Mitch reading and went down to the foyer. There was only one public telephone, which was in use, so she waited. When the phone was free she called Thomas. There was no reply. He was probably on his way to work at the University. She pressed the coin return button, fished the coins out of the narrow metal drawer and replaced the telephone. A second later she put the money back into the money-box and called Antoinette.

  Assuming Thomas had told Antoinette about Dr Puel and the documents he had given her, Claire related briefly what had happened that morning. ‘I don’t have much time. I’ve booked a taxi to take me to see Guillaume Cheval. I’ll ring you when I get back and let you know what happened. Would you get in touch with Thomas? Tell him there will be no need for him to come up here at the weekend, because I am taking the documents to Guillaume Cheval, today.’ Antoinette assured Claire she would pass on the message and the two friends said goodbye.

  ‘So,’ Mitch said on Claire’s return, ‘Doctor Heinrich Beckman became the psychiatrist, Professor Lucien Puel. The twenty-six-year-old became a thirty-six-year-old - and the German National became French-Swiss.’

  ‘That about sums it up.’ Claire took the papers out of Mitch’s hand, put them in the correct order, and returned them to the briefcase. ‘The taxi will be here soon. Are you coming?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mitch’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘I didn’t think-- Hang on, I’ll run and get my coat.’

  ‘I’ll be in the foyer.’ Picking up her handbag and the briefcase, Claire took the lift down to reception. ‘I’d like to stay for another night. Would that be possible?’ she asked the manager.

  He consulted the booking diary. ‘Your room is free tonight and tomorrow, so you can stay where you are if you’re happy with the room, Madame Belland.’

  Claire said she was, thanked the man, and as she walked across the foyer to the hotel’s main entrance, Mitch ran across the reception area to her and together they went out to the waiting taxi.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  As the taxi cruised along the narrow country roads towards Chateau Je Reviendrai, the nerves in Claire’s stomach began to tighten. She inhaled and exhaled slowly and told herself to calm down. It didn’t work. She looked out of the window. The sky was pale blue, the trees and hedgerows were in bud, and fine mist hugged the earth.

  She recognised the crossroads where Thomas had taken the turn to the chateau. They were close. Claire began again to doubt her decision to take the old doctor’s documents herself. She would have to meet the woman her husband felt so strongly about. The woman who, after seeing her with Mitch last night, Claire had decided not to meet.

  Perhaps she should have waited for Thomas to take them at the weekend. She closed her eyes. No! she said to herself. She was doing the right thing. The sooner Heinrich Beckman was arrested and put behind bars the better. And the sooner she met and got “Simone” out of her system the sooner she would be able to move on with her life.

  ‘He’s in love with you, you know?’

  ‘What?’ Claire had been deep in thought and only caught the words love and know.

  ‘Thomas Durand. He’s in love with you.’

  Her heart thumped against her chest. She had intended to tell Mitch that she’d kissed Thomas and that she’d had feelings for him, but now she didn’t need to tell him anything. What she did, or had done, was none of his business. Even so, she felt she needed to deny this revelation. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘He made it quite clear on the telephone.’ Claire held her breath. Would Mitch tell her what Thomas had said? She knew her husband, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist telling her. All she had to do was appear disinterested. She did, and it worked. ‘He telephoned me at the hotel in the early hours, told me you were leaving in the morning. He said, if I had any sense at all I would tell you how I felt about you. Tell you that I loved you before it was too late, or I’d regret it.’

  ‘Well you did stop me leaving, and you have told me how you feel.’

  Mitch laughed. ‘Sometimes you can be so naive, Claire. Thomas Durand wasn’t telling me to tell you how I feel about you, he was telling me that he should have told you how he felt about you when he had the chance. He was saying that it was too late for him, and now he regretted it.’

  ‘This is not the time to talk about how I-- we feel, or what we regret. I have a job to do, so do you, we’ll talk about who kissed who later! We’re here,’ she said, as the taxi turned off the road and began the slow drive up to Chateau Je Reviendrai.

  The cab pulled up at the bottom of a set of steps leading to the chateau where the Cheval’s lived. The driver jumped out of the vehicle and opened Claire’s door. Mitch let himself out and paid the fare, while Claire stood and marvelled at the elegant building.

  ‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ Mitch said, at her side.

  ‘It is,’ she said, deciding there was no need for Mitch to know that she and Thomas had seen the chateau before, albeit from a distance. She followed him up the steps and he rang the bell. The door was answered by the tall distinguished looking man who Claire recognised from the day she was with Thomas.

  ‘Welcome, Alain,’ the man said. He shook Mitch’s hand before wrapping his arms around him. Then, turning to Claire: ‘Madame Mitchell?’

  ‘Darling,’ Mitch said, ‘This is Monsieur Guillaume Cheval. Guillaume, this is my wife, Claire.’

  ‘I am delighted to meet you, Claire,’ Guillaume said, shaking Claire’s hand. Claire felt her cheeks redden. She wasn’t sure whether it was because Mitch had called her darling, or because Simone’s father called her Madame Mitchell, which meant he knew who she was. He hadn’t looked surprised when Mitch announced her as his wife either. Claire wondered how recently her husband had told the Chevals about her. ‘Come in, please,’ Guillaume C
heval said. Smiling as if he was welcoming old friends into his home, he opened the door wide to allow Mitch and Claire to enter.

  ‘Alain tells me you have important documents that will help us to track down the criminal Heinrich Beckman, Claire?’

  Claire shot a look of surprise at Mitch. ‘I telephoned Guillaume from the hotel room when you went down to reception.’

  ‘I have, sir.’ Claire said, handing the briefcase to Guillaume Cheval.

  He looked at her and then at the case. Then he lifted his head to Claire again, and said, ‘Thank you. I want to open it now,’ he said, clutching it as if it was a priceless piece of art. ‘But I must wait. The doctor who treated your husband in Canada is the doctor who tortured my daughter when she was in prison. She is a lawyer now, and she is desperate to see the contents of this case. Come and meet her,’ he said, leading the way across a large entrance hall.

  As the trio reached the far side of the hall, Claire stopped. ‘Someone is playing the piano.’

  ‘My daughter Eleanor,’ Cheval said.

  ‘She plays beautifully, Monsieur.’

  ‘Yes, she does.’ The rhythmic sound of the piano grew louder as they neared the end of a short corridor. Guillaume Cheval opened a door. ‘The music room,’ he said, ‘and my daughter, Eleanor.’

  Eleanor, who Claire had only ever thought of as Simone, lifted her head from the music score she was reading and gave Claire a bright welcoming smile. ‘Come in.’ she called, from behind the piano. ‘I shall reach the end of this piece in one second.’ Running her fingers along the keys until she came to the last one, she lifted her hands. ‘That’s it!’

  ‘Beautiful, darling,’ Eleanor’s father said, applauding his daughter, ‘truly beautiful.’

  ‘You are not biased at all, are you, Father?’