by A. D. Winch
She was frail and moved slowly with the help of a walking stick. As she hobbled forward, she muttered in French, “They’re not going anywhere.”
When she got to the front of the crowd, she approached the two agents and stood in front of them. She barely came up to their chests and had to look up to their faces.
“Bonjour, Ursula,” she said and held out a hand.
“Bonjour, Madame Colbert.”
Ursula took her hand, and Madame Colbert pulled her away from the men.
“Où sont les grands-parents d'Ursula?” Madame Colbert demanded and prodded the agent nearest to her with her stick.
“She asked, where are my grandparents?”
“We do not have this information,” replied one of the agents and shook his head.
Madame Colbert understood his gesture, raised her stick and hit him in the face with it. He reacted instinctively and went to hit the old lady on the head with his gun. The mob surged forward, and his partner grabbed his arm before he made contact.
Madame Colbert ignored the rumpus she had caused, pushed her stick into his stomach and spoke quickly in French.
Ursula translated, “Then you cannot go. Once you tell us, we’ll let you go.”
There was not an immediate reply and then one of the agents spat through gritted teeth, “That’s classified. We do not have clearance to tell you.”
Ursula stared at him and then announced, “It’s Morocco!”
The look of surprise on the agents’ faces told everyone that she was right.
“Thank you,” said Ursula and then addressed her neighbours. “Please could you let them through?”
The angry mob parted, and the agents walked dejectedly between them. They looked back at Ursula with disbelief. In the end, they had been disarmed and beaten by a girl.
The men of the block watched the OSS agents silently and with contempt. They sneered and fought back the desire to hit the Americans. Some of them felt heroic at having rescued Ursula. Behind them, the women whispered impolite comments using language that was not repeatable. Apart from this, everyone controlled their emotions until the agents reached the doorway, and Madame Colbert let fly an obscenity that made everyone blush.
Once out of the apartment, the two agents ran off along the corridor and down the stairs. They passed more people heading in the other direction, but neither of them looked back.
Madame Colbert pulled Ursula close.
“It is good to have you back, my dear," she said. “Apart from an immediate need for a good wash, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”
“I am good. I have not sworn at an American since the war, and it felt good to do it again. Now tell me, who is this man?”
They turned to face Claude and suddenly all eyes were on him. They were not unfriendly but neither were they welcoming. The mob looked at him suspiciously, even though he had worked with them.
“That’s my Uncle Claude,” Ursula replied loudly.
“Are you sure?” asked Madame Colbert, squeezing Ursula’s hand tightly.
“Oh yes, he just…,” she searched for the right words, “…likes to live his life his way.”
Madame Colbert relaxed her grip and pointed her stick at Claude.
“You need a bath as well, Monsieur.”
Claude tipped an imaginary hat at Madame Colbert, “Madame, I completely agree with you.”
“I think we should leave the two of you to clean yourselves and the apartment. I am going back to my own home and changing out of my night-attire," she said loudly. "And I suggest everyone does the same.”
Madame Colbert walked off, and the crowd parted, but they seemed reluctant to leave.
“Thank you everyone,” said Ursula. “Thanks for your help.”
Nobody moved.
By this time, Madame Colbert was at the front door. She took hold of the woman nearest to her and pulled her out of the apartment. It had a domino effect, and everyone else followed.
The corridor was jammed with people and word soon spread about what had happened. A siege mentality quickly took shape and soon after ‘guards’ were stationed on the seventh floor, just in case anyone chose to come back.
Back to Contents
***
Chapter 6 – Messages, Money and the Mob
Claude asked if he could use the bathroom first and Ursula was more than happy to let him. He didn’t bathe immediately though. In the bathroom, he discovered Mémé’s top loader washing machine. After he had rammed it full of clothes from his trolley, he got into the warm water. He let out a loud, satisfied sigh and then started to sing. For the next three hours, Claude sang and sang. He knew the words to countless songs and hardly paused for breath.
Ursula used the time to tidy up. In spite of the temperature, she began by opening all the windows and doors to let in fresh air. A breeze flowed through the apartment and soon the smell of Claude, the litter on the floors and the Americans disappeared. The only thing that smelled now was her.
Mémé was house proud and always kept everything looking tidy and clean. This had rubbed off on Ursula, who found the mess unbearable. She filled up a bin bag with rubbish, collected the bullets, placed the laptop next to the phone, put the carpet back down, returned items to their correct places on the shelves, and then washed up. Once she was satisfied, she took out the old vacuum cleaner. She hoovered the living room, moved into the hall and then tried to enter her grandparents' bedroom.
The door would not open fully. There was something behind the door blocking it. Ursula turned off the vacuum cleaner and pushed her way into the room.
Wardrobes had been emptied, and clothes had been thrown on the floor. Granddad Benjamin’s books were scattered everywhere, and the bed was a mess, with sheets half on the mattress and half on the floor. Ursula had never seen her grandparents’ room looking so full of stuff but also so empty. She put the clothes back on hangers, or folded them and placed them on shelves. She arranged the books in neat stacks and slid them under the bed; then she stripped the sheets. As she picked up the pile of linen, she saw a shoe box resting on its side on the floor. The contents had spilled out, and she sat down beside it to take a closer look.
Ursula had found a treasure chest of photos and keepsakes. The first photo she looked at was black and white; it was her Granddad dressed in an army uniform. She then found one of her grandparents at their wedding. Her Granddad looked so handsome, and her Mémé looked big and beautiful. She continued to go through the box. There were many photos of her grandparents, which she had never seen, but they were few compared to the rest of the contents. The shoe box was mostly full of photos of her, plus pictures she had drawn, cards she had written and a lock of her hair. There was even a photo of Eric and her sledging, and one of Andrea and Alexander staring uncomfortably at the camera while they sat in the living room.
As she looked through the box, at the people who had been part of her life, she wiped tears from her eyes. The contents made her determined to get everything back she had lost and return to a normal life.
After looking through everything one more time, she returned all the contents to the box and slid it under the bed.
“Ursula,” shouted Claude, from the bathroom.
Ursula left the bedroom and stood outside the bathroom door. She could hear water running again, and steam was creeping out from around the door frame.
“Yes, Uncle Claude.”
Inside the bathroom, Claude laughed loudly.
“You can stop that now, unless you want to. It was for your neighbours, not for me. Could you help me, please?”
“How?”
“All my clothes are wet or in the washing machine. Could I possibly use some of your fine Granddad’s clothes?”
“Okay, I’ll just get you some.”
Ursula found a pair of black jogging bottoms, a stretched T-shirt and a baggy jumper, and left them outside the bathroom. After knocking on the door, she went into her bedroom and
took out similar clothes for herself and tidied her room.
As she began to dust her desk, she noticed that something had changed. Under the piece of glass on her desk was a sheet of crumpled newspaper. She knew who had put it there the moment she saw a large ring and cross drawn around a special advert. It read:
WIN 10,000 EURO!
10,000 Euro prize money will be given tax-free to anyone in Europe who can solve this puzzle!
She glanced briefly over the puzzle, which she had solved, and then read below:
All entries should include name, age and address and are to be received within seven days of publication at the following address:
WIN 10,000 EURO PUZZLE, BP 1357911, FRANCE
In the case of a draw, please include a similar puzzle you have written with its solution.
Her life would have been so different if she had never solved this puzzle. Granddad Benjamin had often told her, ‘you won’t regret what you do but only what you don't do.' In this case, she thought he was wrong, and she regretted doing the puzzle. If she had never entered, she wouldn’t be in this situation; a situation that she was determined to do something about. If she did nothing, she would regret that for the rest of her life. She had to find Alexander, and then she had to save her grandparents and Eric.
It had been a busy night and a busy morning. Tiredness took hold, and she lay down on the floor. Until she was clean herself, she was not going to lie down on her bed.
Claude was singing next door and once again she wondered if she had been right to trust him. They had only known each other for a few hours and yet here he was in her bathroom - a homeless man who drank too much, could pick locks and carried a gun.
Am I so much better? wondered Ursula. She would try not to judge him. He had helped, and she did not sense anything about him that worried her. Without him, she would still be homeless and outside in the freezing snow.
Her eyes closed, and she felt herself falling asleep. Her mind started to wander; she saw waves crashing against rocks, tall minarets and then she felt pressure on her shoulders. An angry looking soldier was getting closer to her and saying something she couldn’t make out.
“Fillette, the bathroom’s all yours.”
Ursula opened her eyes. A man was kneeling above her, gently shaking her shoulders. He was wearing her Granddad’s clothes, but she didn’t recognise him.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. You can use the bathroom now.”
The man was Claude. His big, bushy beard had vanished and even though his skin was pock-marked and weathered he looked so much better. He gently shook her again, and his mess of ginger hair brushed against her face. It smelled of Mémé.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I used some of the floral smelling products in the bathroom,” he said and helped her up.
“That’s fine,” replied Ursula, a little dazed.
Claude stood in front of her and asked with a smile, “Do you think I’m handsome?”
He did a twirl and his long hair flew out. Ursula looked at him. She wasn’t sure how old he looked. She guessed he was older than Alexander but younger than her grandparents. His body looked to have shrunk, but his arms were thick and covered in tattoos. She didn’t know how to answer his question so just nodded.
“I don’t want to appear ungrateful or insulting, but someone around here smells a little strong, and it isn’t me. I think you should go and have a bath,” and he guided her out of the bedroom towards the bathroom.
“Do you mind if I help myself to some food and drink?” Claude asked.
“No. Please help yourself,” replied Ursula and shut the bathroom door.
The bathroom was covered in condensation. Mémé would have had a fit, thought Ursula, but decided not to open the window just yet. In the corner, the washing machine was busy rumbling away and above the bath, Claude’s clothes were neatly arranged on Mémé’s washing line. Ursula turned the taps, poured some bubble bath into the water and removed her clothes. The leathers came off easily, but she had to peel her longjohns and top from her body. They stank, and she placed them in one of the plastic bags Claude had left.
She looked at her skin and wished she hadn't. In places, it had turned to scales, and she looked like a dead lizard but smelt even worse. She recoiled at her own smell and jumped in the bath. The water felt luxurious against her skin, but she didn’t want to enjoy it yet. Her body was too dirty, so she first washed thoroughly, emptied the brown water and refilled the bath. Only then did she lay back and relax. Hot water continued to pour into the tub, and she eventually turned the taps off when the water was lapping against her chin.
Above her head, Claude’s clothes hang from the washing line. Holey pants were not pleasant to look at, so Ursula closed her eyes. A feeling of calm washed over her, and the events of the last few weeks felt like a nightmare that she had just woken up from. Her memories of sleeping rough, eating from bins and hiding from people were washed away. They were replaced with waves crashing against rocks, high minarets, palm trees and an enclosing pentagonal wall. Ursula opened her eyes and shook the image from her head. It was the same as she had seen earlier but with more detail. She closed her eyes again but instantly the same pictures appeared in her mind. This time, she decided not to fight them and allowed her mind to wander where it wanted to go. Sleep began to take hold, and she dozed off.
While she slept, she kept stirring. Her nose was bothering her and kept waking her up, but there was nothing wrong with it. She did not sleep deeply anyway. The last few weeks had taught her that this was unwise, and it was too soon to break the habit.
When she finally woke up the water was tepid, and she was shivering. Since being homeless, this had become normal and didn’t concern her. More importantly, there was someone else to worry about – Eric.
Claude was sat at the dining room table. Madame Colbert sat beside him, and they were drinking Mémé’s ‘medicinal’ cognac. No other alcohol was kept in her grandparents' apartment.
“Voilà ma fillette,” announced Claude as Ursula entered the room. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied and sat down.
Madame Colbert went into the kitchen and brought Ursula hot onion soup and baguette. Claude offered Ursula a brandy, but she declined.
The food looked like a feast, and Ursula realised how hungry she was.
“That’s not everything. There is Cassoulet too,” and Madame Colbert sat down.
Ursula mumbled, “Thank you,” as she slurped her first few mouthfuls.
“I knew the past would one day catch up with your Grandmother. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen,” Madame Colbert said, shaking her head and waggling her finger.
“What do you mean?” asked Ursula, in between mouthfuls of bread.
“My dear, I have lived here longer than your grandparents. I met them on the day they moved in, and I have been friends with them ever since. You know that we talk daily, mostly about the weather I grant you, but we always have. Your Grandmother told me she couldn’t have children and then one day you appeared. I told her she was wrong to keep you, but she insisted that you had been sent by God. I told her that you should be given to the authorities, to look after, but she argued that you would have no life. I couldn’t convince her, and I gave up trying,” she put her hand out and took Ursula’s. “Please don’t take this personally. I am very glad your Grandmother refused to listen to me.”
She paused and gripped Ursula’s hand tighter before continuing, “I wasn’t the only one to notice your strange arrival but, as you know, we look after each other around here. No one was going to report your grandparents and take their happiness away. Memories are short and, over the years, people have either moved away or forgotten. But as I said, I knew the past would one day catch up with them.”
Ursula had finished her soup, and Madame Colbert fetched her some Cassoulet. Claude offered her brandy again, but she declined, so he poured himself a double and gave Madame Colbert a dash.
“Your grandparents love you very much. When you left, they were genuinely pleased and felt they had given you an opportunity for a better life, but also I have never seen two people so devastated. We continued to talk daily after you left. Your Grandmother told me how you were doing, she told me about Eric Meyer and spoke warmly of you both. A few months ago I even met Mademoiselle Duna by the lift and the Monsieur, erm, what did your Grandmother call him?”
“Alexander,” answered Ursula.
“Yes, that’s the one. When your grandparents went missing, I phoned the police. I knew something had happened when I knocked on the door, but no one opened it. I told them I heard noises, but I hadn’t seen my neighbours for days. They weren’t interested. I have phoned every other day since, but not one policeman has come to investigate. Not one! I tried to get Ahmed or Vinz to knock down the door, but they were worried they’d get into trouble. Still, at least we’re here now.”
Claude sipped at his brandy. He was listening intently, but the brandy was going to his head, and he wanted to lie down. His eyes blinked, and his head dropped forward for an instant.
“Go and lay down,” Madame Colbert told him.
Claude did not object. He stumbled over to the itchy sofa and fell down upon it. A few seconds later he was asleep and softly snoring.
Madame Colbert pointed at Claude, “He’s not your uncle, Ursula, that is plainly obvious but I think that he's a good man. Even if he does like his alcohol.”
Ursula nodded. Her stomach was full of warm food, and she was drifting off as well.
“I think you should go and lie down too. I’ll tidy up here, and we’ll talk later when you are rested.”
Ursula placed the last piece of food in her mouth and walked to her room. She had rushed her food and was feeling slight pains of indigestion, but they were nothing compared to the hunger she had felt over recent weeks.
