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 looking 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
