‘He said the cause of my anxiety and the feeling of panic, getting angry, the bad dreams, and losing my concentration are to do with what I saw in the war, especially in the prison.’
We already know that, Claire thought, but didn’t want to upset Alain by saying so. ‘Can the professor help you?’ she asked.
‘He said he could. Through hypnosis, massage and what he called occupational therapy. He said I needed to relax. And, in a safe environment guided by someone I trust, I need to talk about my past.’
Claire looked out of the window at the traffic. When Alain wasn’t in a dark mood, when he wasn’t having an anxiety attack or full of self-doubt, he pushed himself too hard. The professor was right. Alain never allowed himself to relax, so telling him he must relax was good. But hypnosis? Claire didn’t like the sound of that. She also wondered what occupational therapy really meant. She decided not to ask Alain any more questions. He was bound to tell her more when he began his treatment.
When they arrived home, Alain carried Aimée into the apartment and through to her bedroom. Between them, they undressed her and put her to bed. When they were sure their daughter was settled for the night they put out the light and crept out of the room.
Claire made coffee while Alain poured two measures of Canadian Club. Then they relaxed on the settee in front of the fire with the wireless on low in the background.
‘Marie is a nice woman. We got on really well. She loved Aimée, of course,’ Claire said, laughing. ‘How was it with your father?’
‘Okay, Alain said. ‘He seems to have mellowed, become more tolerant in his old age.’ He took a sip of brandy. ‘I don’t remember much about him when I was growing up. He was well respected, a great engineer, but he wasn’t one of nature’s born fathers. He was rarely home, and when he was he was working. Weeknights he’d disappear into his study with a pile of technical drawings, come out for dinner, and go back as soon as he’d eaten. Even at weekends he brought work home with him. He wasn’t like any of my school friends’ dads. They were air force too, but they made time to take their kids to the park and play baseball with them. My old man was always too busy. I envied the other kids in the neighbourhood.
‘After Mom died, he worked even longer hours. He was real strict when my mother was alive, and he got worse when she’d gone. He changed when he met Marie. I think he had to. She wouldn’t have put up with him the way he was.’
‘That’s a good thing,’ Claire said. ‘Was she a good step-mum?’
‘Yes, she was, but I didn’t give her a chance,’ Alain said. ‘I missed my mom and with Marie not having any kids yet, she didn’t know how to handle me. I’m sorry to say I played on that. I didn’t make her life easy.’
CHAPTER SIX
Alain left the apartment before seven o’clock, as he did every morning, to drive the short distance to St. Hubert’s Airbase where he worked with Canadian and American military intelligence. Like his job with British military intelligence, attached to RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, his work was keeping the country secure.
‘The biggest problem the world is facing according to the Americans,’ Alain said, ‘is communism. China has declared it’s now a communist state: The People’s Republic of China is official, and the Soviet Union has successfully tested its first atomic bomb, which they’ve called, Joe 1.’
‘Joe? That sounds ominous.’
‘It’s more than that. Since they call the US military guys GI Joes, it’s damn inflammatory. So, because Russia is the main threat to the west, we’re working on an air defence system with St. Hubert’s engineers. Add Korea into the mix,’ Alain said. ‘The war divided the country and now trouble is brewing between the north and the south.’ He shook his head. ‘The team are working to find ways to calm the situation down before it gets out of hand, so…’
‘So, you’ll be working all hours for the foreseeable future?’ Claire said. Alain put his arms around her and kissed her. ‘Promise me you won’t get so engrossed in what you’re doing that you miss your appointments with Professor Puel at the hospital.’
Alain saluted. ‘No, Ma’am!’ Claire pushed him away playfully.
Alain’s step-mother was a regular visitor. Aimée had a week left of her summer holiday and, being a book-worm, had read the school books she’d brought with her from England. So Claire and Aimée treated the pre-school week as a holiday. Marie picked them up in her car each day and took them out. They went to the zoo, skating rink and ten-pin bowling.
The RCAF had organised a teacher to home-school Aimée. Claire had never heard of such a thing but agreed with Aimée’s form teacher in Oxford that it would be better for Aimée to do her lessons at home, rather than travel for goodness knows how many miles to a school where she wouldn’t know anyone and might feel out of place, especially if the school was more advanced than the one Aimée attended in Oxford. It wouldn’t be, of that Claire was sure. But, because it was only for three months, Claire agreed to have a home tutor.
She looked in on Aimée who, after a restless evening, had finally fallen asleep. Aimée wasn’t looking forward to the beginning of the school term with a new teacher and had decided before she met her
