‘Where Pierre took over?’
‘Yes. He and one of the Resistance group, an undertaker, brought Alain home in a hearse.’
Claire shivered at the thought of Mitch in a hearse. But it didn’t matter how he got here. He was here.
Claire showed the doctor up to Alain’s room. ‘Aimée? What are you doing in here?’
‘Reading to the man.’
Claire turned her face away from her daughter so she didn’t see her laughing. It would be a while until Aimée would be able to read. ‘Uncle André’s maps? You mustn’t play with this book, darling.’ Claire took the atlas from her and put it in the dresser drawer. How she managed to lift the book onto the bed, goodness knows; it weighed almost as much as she did.
Aimée looked from the doctor to Alain, and then to her mother. ‘Man awake, Mummy. Come on,’ she said, ‘wake up, Mister!’
Claire plucked Aimée from the bed. She began to protest, but Claire shushed her and tiptoed to the door. At the bottom of the stairs Claire put Aimée down and she ran into the kitchen calling, ‘Grandma, Grandma, man awake.’ Aimée tilted her head and tried to wink, but blinked both eyes.
‘If you say so, little one.’ Édith lifted Aimée up, sat her on a cushion and pushed her chair up to the table. She put a bowl of porridge in front of her and an apple that she had cut into half-moon shapes.
Aimée tapped Édith on the arm and when Édith looked at her she blinked again. Nodding, she picked up a segment of apple in her small hand and bit into it.
When the doctor came down he said, ‘Alain is doing well. His leg has almost healed. I have taken the bandages off to let the air get to it.’ He took a bottle of pills from his black doctor’s bag. ‘I think it best to keep the basket over his leg for protection. If he is in pain when he wakes, give him a couple of these,’ he said, handing the pills to Claire.
‘When do you think he will wake, doctor?’ Claire asked.
‘I’m surprised he hasn’t woken already. Each day I give him less morphine than the day before. Today I gave him very little. He should wake soon.’
From the doorway, Claire saw Aimée put her book of numbers down and jump off Mitch’s bed. ‘More? Or Aimée sing?’ she asked, putting her feet together and her hands out towards him in a gesture of offering.
‘Sing,’ Mitch murmured.
Claire held onto the door frame to stop herself from falling. Mitch was awake. He was awake. She could hardly believe her eyes, her ears. ‘Will you go down and tell Grandma Alain is awake, darling?’ Aimée nodded and, after taking her doll from Alain’s side, went down to tell Édith.
‘Hello China,’ Mitch croaked.
Claire wanted to fall into his arms and stay there forever. ‘Hello,’ she said, before sitting on the side of Mitch’s bed, taking care not to put pressure on it. ‘How are you feeling?’
He took a shallow breath. ‘Thirsty, hungry… I’m so hungry, I could eat a steak.’
Claire laughed though her tears. ‘You can have soup. You need to start with food that is easy to digest.’ Mitch tried to lift his head, but couldn’t and exhaled loudly in failed effort. He had tears in his eyes. Claire leant over and wiped them away. Then she kissed him gently.
‘Lie down beside me, China.’ Claire kicked off her shoes and laid her head on the pillow next to his. Mitch closed his eyes.
When Claire told Aimée that Alain was her daddy – she still called Mitch Alain in case Aimée spoke of him when they were out – the little girl stared up at her wide-eyed, and then went upstairs to her bedroom. Claire followed and found her sitting on the edge of her bed telling Dolly and Teddy. Seeing her mother, Aimée put down her toys and reached out to her. Claire picked her up and rocked her. ‘Shall we go down and see Alain, or would you rather we stayed here?’ Claire asked after a few minutes. Aimée wriggled to be put down. Holding onto the banister, she took the stairs slowly with Claire following.
As they entered the sitting room, Claire saw Mitch opening an envelope that Jacques had given Édith earlier that day. He put it down immediately. ‘Hello Aimée,’ he said, smiling at the little girl from the chair at the side of the fire. With a puckered brow, Aimée swayed from side to side before taking one tentative step at a time as far as the chair opposite. She climbed onto the seat and, sitting down, tugged the skirt of her dress until it covered her knees. Then she clasped her hands on her lap. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Aimée shook her head. ‘Then why so quiet?’ Not taking her eyes off him, she lifted her shoulders. ‘Aren’t you going to read to me today?’
Suddenly smiling, she said, ‘Yes!’ and, jumping down, she took the envelope containing Jacques’ message from Mitch’s lap. She returned to her chair and leant against the arm. ‘Once pon a time --’ She stopped and looked across the room at Claire. Smiling, her mother nodded encouragingly and Aimée began her story again. ‘Once pon a time was a daddy and--’ Aimée stopped again and this time looked up at Mitch. A frown crept across her small forehead and her bottom lip began to quiver.
Mitch pulled himself out of his chair and, with the aid of a stick, took a couple of stumbling steps. Leaning heavily on the stick, he dropped onto his knees and took up the story. ‘And they didn’t know each other for
