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 grandfather 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.'
When they had finished drinking coffee, Alain looked at his watch. ‘I guess it’s time we made a move,’ he said to Claire. ‘I have to be at the hospital for eleven-thirty.’ Claire got to her feet and Aimée jumped up too.
‘Why don’t I drive you to the hospital?’ Alain’s father said.
‘It’s okay, Dad. I don’t want to put you out--’
‘You won’t be putting me out, Son, I’d like to take you. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. What do you say?’
Alain looked at Claire. ‘Honey?’ Smiling, she lifted one shoulder and nodded.
‘Okay. Thanks, Dad.’ Alain knelt down in front of Aimée. ‘You be a good girl for Mummy and Grandma, won’t you?’
Aimée threw her arms around her father’s neck and held on tight. ‘I will.’
He kissed his step-mother on the cheek and turned to Claire. ‘See you later, honey,’ he said, kissing her.
From the front window Claire, Marie and Aimée watched Alain and his father drive off. It hadn’t occurred to Claire that she wouldn’t be going with her husband for his first consultation with the psychiatrist at the Louis Bertrand Hospital. She felt anxious for him. Silly really, she chided, Alain is a grown man. Besides, not having seen his father for more than a year, it will be a chance for the two men to get to know each other again and if necessary to build some bridges.
When the car was out of sight, Claire followed Marie and Aimée to the kitchen, where Aimée helped her new grandma make a cake for their tea.
It had been a long day. Aimée was exhausted from the attention her new grandma had lavished on her and was asleep before they had left Petite Montagne. ‘How did it go at the hospital?’ Claire asked, as they cruised along the freeway.
‘Okay, I think. The head of the psychiatric wing is a Swiss-French professor by the name of Doctor Lucien Puel. He didn’t say much. But he asked a lot of questions.’
‘Such as?’
‘What I did in the war. He’d know I was in the Air Force because the RCAF is paying for my treatment. I didn’t tell him I was with the SOE or the French Resistance. I said I was a pilot and was shot down over France and the Gestapo caught me at Gisoir and I was put in prison. He asked me about the prison and how long I was there. I told him I’d escaped with some other guys and that they had got away but I was shot in the leg. He asked me about the doctor who patched me up after I’d been shot
