Chasing Ghosts

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘He said he was trying to unlock my memory.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘He said he didn’t, but...’ Mitch closed his eyes and massaged his temples. ‘There was something... And it was important. But it’s gone. This is why Puel gets annoyed. He spends an hour of his valuable time with me, and afterwards I can’t remember what I said.’

  ‘An hour? You’ve been in there since two o’clock yesterday afternoon. Is that why he kept you in? Because he hoped you’d remember something?’

  Mitch nodded half-heartedly. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Okay, maybe that’s why he kept you in, but why did he put you in that ward?’

  ‘It was the nearest?’

  Claire threw back her head and looked to the heavens. ‘I’m being serious, Mitch! The beds had leather restraints on them and the windows had bars across them. It wasn’t an ordinary hospital ward.’

  ‘I don’t know! Give me a break, will you? It’s frustrating for him that I can’t remember, but God knows it’s ten times worse for me.’

  Claire bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  The first time Claire went with Mitch to the hospital, Professor Puel made it clear then that she was not to question him about his treatment. “It would be better if you don’t discuss your husband’s treatment at all.” Part of Claire was desperate to know what had happened to him in the years he was missing, the years he had spent in prison. And although part of her wanted to know who Simone was, a bigger part of her was frightened of finding out. She let the subject drop.

  FOXDEN, ENGLAND

  Christmas 1949

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Aimée was quiet on the drive up to Foxden. It was unlike her daughter but Claire didn’t mind. The journey took every bit of her concentration. They had set off in what looked like an early morning mist that had become thicker in less built-up areas. As they left the suburbs of Oxford behind them they were met by patches of dense fog. It became heavier as they travelled north, suddenly lifting as quickly as it had fallen.

  No sooner had the wipers cleared the windscreen and Claire had begun to relax than a blanket of fog descended again without warning. She turned on the wipers and they scraped across the windscreen. The fog had turned to freezing ice. Suddenly the rear lights of a large vehicle came into view and she slowed down again. Whatever it was, large car or lorry, it had come out of a side road and Claire was grateful for it. She followed the vehicle’s back lights at a distance, keeping their red glow in view.

  ‘Are we there yet, Mummy?’

  ‘No, sweetheart, not yet. We’re only halfway.’

  Aimée sighed.

  As they drove out of Northamptonshire and into Leicestershire the fog began to disperse. The lorry that Claire had been following turned off before the town of Market Harborough - and Claire, able to see clearly now, drove on.

  ‘Not long now, darling,’ she said to Aimée. Her daughter didn’t answer. She was asleep.

  The drive to Foxden took another half an hour along the Lowarth Road, which was all bends. Relieved when the village of Woodcote came into view, Claire steered the car up Shaft Hill, turning off the main Lowarth road to Foxden. The lane was covered in snow. The car slid sideways and bumped the grass verge, waking Aimée up. ‘Are we there yet?’ she asked, sleepily.

  ‘Yes, darling,’ Claire said, with relief, ‘We’ve arrived.’

  Claire parked next to her brother-in-law Frank’s car, in the carpark at the back of the hotel. The drive from Oxford had taken a couple of hours longer than usual because of the weather, which changed in an instant from dense fog to freezing rain. Thankful the journey was over, she exhaled loudly and rolled her shoulders. ‘Ready?’ she said, looking at her daughter. Aimée nodded, pushed the blanket from her legs, but made no attempt to move. ‘Come on, darling.’ Claire got out of the car. The air was damp. She shivered. It wasn’t as cold as it had been in Canada. Even in December, when the temperature was several degrees below zero, it wasn’t damp and misty. The cold didn’t seep into your bones as it seemed to do in rural England. No matter how much snow fell, or how cold it was, the air was dry and the sky seemed brighter.

  She walked round the front of the car to the passenger door. ‘Let’s get out of the cold and into the warm,’ she said, helping her sleepy daughter out of the car.

  By the time Claire had taken their cases from the boot, Bess, Frank and Nancy were crossing the courtyard. Aimée ran to Frank and he bent down and kissed her. She was too big to pick up - and far too grown up. She threw her arms around her Aunt Bess, and then taking her cousin Nancy by the hand, led the way to the hotel leaving the grownups to bring the luggage.

  Frank promised to take the children to collect eggs, see the animals, and give carrots to the donkey on Christmas morning, before church, ‘But now,’ he told Aimée and Nancy, you must go to bed.’ Aimée pouted and Nancy copied her. ‘You, Miss,’ Frank said, to his adopted daughter, ‘take your cousin upstairs and,’ he looked from Nancy to Aimée, ‘both of you get ready for bed. I’ll be up in ten minutes to put out the light.’

  As she kissed her mother good night, Aimée whispered, ‘Will Father Christmas have been to me too, when I wake up in the morning?’

  ‘Of course he will, darling. Why would you think he might not come to you?’

  ‘Well…’ Claire could see her daughter’s mind racing to give her a satisfactory reason for asking. ‘I thought he might not know I was here.’

  Claire pushed Aimée’s hair off her face and kissed her. ‘Father Christmas knows where all the good boys and girls are.’

  As Aimée and Nancy left the office, Aimée said, ‘That was close.’

  ‘What was?’ Nancy asked.

  ‘I almost let slip that I know there isn’t a Father Christmas. Mum hasn’t had time to do any shopping since we’ve been home from Canada. I didn’t think she’d bought me anything and I was going to say it was all right.’

  After dinner, Frank checked on the children and then took over on reception, so Bess could spend time with her sister. Claire made three cups of coffee, put hers and Bess’s on the low table in front of the fire, and took Frank’s out to reception. When she returned to the office, Bess brought her up to date with everything that had happened at Foxden during the three months Claire had been in Canada. Nancy’s adoption had gone through without a hitch, Nancy was happy and settled, and she and Frank loved being parents. Bess got up and crossed the room. Picking up the coffee and milk she went back to Claire. ‘Now,’ she said, refilling their cups, ‘How was Canada?’

  ‘So much has happened, Bess. Some of it was lovely, but the psychiatrist Mitch saw and the treatment he underwent.’ Tears fell from Claire’s eyes. She shook her head unable to speak.

  Bess took hold of her sister’s hand. ‘Take your time, darling,’ she said. When Claire had recovered, Bess said, ‘From your letters, you got on well with Mitch’s parents.’

  ‘Yes. From the moment we arrived, they couldn’t have been nicer or done more for us, and they adored Aimée.’

  ‘So, what has happened? Where’s Mitch? When you telephoned a couple of days ago, Mitch was with you, wasn’t he?’

  ‘No. Lord, where do I start? The day we were due to fly back to England, Mitch said he had to do something important and he would see us at the airport. And that was the last I saw or heard of him. I have no idea where he is. When the plane was ready to leave, an airport official said, if Captain Mitchell wasn’t here within the next five minutes Aimée and I would have to leave without him.

  ‘At first, I thought he’d had an accident. Then the official told me the Canadian Air Force had sent a message through to say Mitch had gone AWOL and the plane was leaving without him. I didn’t believe them. It made more sense that Mitch had been delayed by someone or something when he went to do whatever it was that was so important, which is why we went to the airport on our own. I wasn’t too worried on the plane home. I felt sure he would catch a later flight
. But when we landed I was told Mitch’s commander at the base wanted to see me. I was given no choice. I took Aimée to Mitch’s grandmother’s house and went to the base. Commander Landry questioned me for hours. I didn’t know anything so I couldn’t tell him anything.

  ‘I was driven home eventually. Mitch didn’t telephone, or send a telegram, which would at least have stopped me from worrying.’

  ‘How is Aimée taking it?’

  ‘She’s upset, naturally, but she doesn’t know he’s missing. I told her that her father had to stay in Canada for a little while longer to have more treatment. I think she accepted that, but she misses him and keeps asking when he’s coming home. She didn’t want to come up here in case he came back and we weren’t there. She drew him a picture of the hotel and wrote him a letter telling him we’d come up to Foxden for Christmas. His grandmother, Esther, thinks he’ll be back. She said he was bound to go to her house when he gets home and when he does she’ll tell him to come up here straight away.’

  ‘And you, Claire? What do you think?’ Bess asked.

  ‘I think he has been having an affair. I think he either went back to break it off, in which case he will be home after Christmas, or he has left us for another woman and is staying with her in Canada. Esther says I should go back to Canada and find him.’

  ‘And will you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll think about it over Christmas. If I do decide to go to Canada, would you and Frank look after Aimée? It’s a lot to ask--’

  ‘Of course, we will.’

  There was a tap on the door and Frank poked his head into the office. ‘The night porter is here. I’m going up.’

  ‘We’re coming too,’ Bess said.

  Claire’s room in the old servant’s quarters felt familiar and comfortable. She tiptoed in, sat on the double bed that she usually shared with Mitch, and watched Aimée as she slept. Her eyes moved beneath their lids. Careful not to wake her Claire quickly undressed, washed and cleaned her teeth, and climbed into bed. She switched off the light on the bedside table and pulled up the bedspread.

  With one arm protectively draped over her daughter, Claire lay and listened to her calm, rhythmic, breathing. She closed her eyes but was unable to sleep. She laid on her back. Where she hadn’t pulled the curtains properly a pale light in the shape of a long finger crept across the ceiling, disappearing and appearing as clouds drifted in front of the silver moon in the winter sky.

  Claire thought about Mitch. Wondered where he was. Wondered who he was with. Was he with Simone? Did he love her? Did she love him? She turned over and lay on her side, her back to her daughter and the eerie pattern of light. She loved her husband. She wanted him, needed him. It was then that she decided to go back to Oxford. She would leave Aimée at Foxden for the remainder of the Christmas holiday and she would go and find her husband. She would take Esther’s advice and return to Canada if she had to.

  Christmas morning the Dudley family attended Mysterton Church. It had been a tradition for as long as Claire could remember. They walked the short distance back to the Foxden Hotel chatting and laughing. The family had grown, so the venue for opening the presents that Father Christmas had left during the night had been moved from the old nursery to the library. There were squeals of excitement from the children as they found their parcels and opened them, and ooh’s and aah’s from the adults who had also been given token gifts; the Dudley women, scent, soap and talcum powder, the men, handkerchiefs, ties and socks.

  Frank and Bess, having gone downstairs to make sure everything was running smoothly in the kitchen, returned with glasses of eggnog and brandy and a tray of snacks. As always, the family would have their Christmas lunch with the staff when the paying guests had finished eating and vacated the dining room.

  At three o’clock, the flamboyant Chef swept into the library and announced lunch was being served. To cheers and thanks, Alfredo bowed to Lily Dudley and offered her his arm. Together they swanned down the wide staircase, across the marble hall and into the dining room.

  Claire’s mother sat at the head of the table, on her right her son Tom and his family. Like her sisters, she was proud of her older brother. In the army, he had saved the lives of a dozen soldiers when he repaired the engine of a motorboat and, under fire, drove it from the pier at Dunkirk harbour out to sea to a waiting British warship. He now bred horses and managed an estate owned by his in-laws, Lord and Lady Hadleigh, in Kent. His wife Annabel had worked with Bess in the war. She may have been a lady, but Annabel was as much a land girl as any of the women who lived and worked on the Foxden Estate.

  Claire turned her attention to the other end of the table and caught Bess’s eye. Are you all right, Bess mouthed. Claire nodded and swallowed the mountain of emotions that threatened to erupt from her.

  Bess and Frank sat at the far end of the table. Frank, Claire’s ever-practical brother-in-law sat nearest the door, ready to leap into action if he was needed. Claire pulled out chairs for Aimée and Nancy. Once they were seated she took her place between them, next to Ena and her husband Henry. Margot, her husband Bill and their daughter Natalie sat opposite.

  Claire put on a smile. For the first time in several years, her family were gathered around one table. Only Mitch was missing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Claire set off for Oxford on her own the day after Boxing Day. She had promised Aimée that she would come back and fetch her as soon as her daddy returned from Canada. Claire forced herself to smile when she left her daughter with Bess and Frank for the remainder of the Christmas holiday. Aimée had always loved spending time up at Foxden with Claire’s family. She enjoyed it even more now she had a cousin of her own age to play with. Aimée and Nancy got on from the minute they met and had become the best of friends.

  Claire hadn’t told her mother she was going back to Oxford today, there hadn’t been time. Driving down the lane from the hotel her mother’s cottage, which had once been part of the Foxden Estate, came into view. For no reason that she could think of her WAAF documents came into her mind. They could come in handy, she supposed, but for what? She couldn’t get the documents out of her mind so she pulled up outside the cottage and jumped out.

  She walked up the path to the back of the house and knocked the door.

  ‘Come in, love,’ Lily Dudley said, opening the back door. ‘I’ve just put the kettle on. Have you got time for a cuppa?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ve only popped in to say cheerio.’

  ‘You’re going back early, aren’t you? I had it in my mind you were staying for the New Year’s Eve party,’ her mother said. She looked to Claire’s left and right. ‘Our Aimée not with you?’

  ‘No, she’s staying with Bess and Frank. It’s nice for her to have Nancy to pal up with - nice for Nancy too. I’ll come up and get her the weekend before she goes back to school.’

  Lily Dudley picked up the kettle, filled it and put it on the gas stove.

  ‘Mam?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Is it okay if I have a rummage around in the attic?’

  ‘Of course,’ Claire’s mother said, ‘but there isn’t much up there. And it’ll be dusty. I haven’t been in there for years. No one has. I think our Bess was the last one up there when she helped me clear out your father’s stuff. He was a hoarder, bless him. What is it you’re looking for?’

  ‘Nothing important. I just want to have a look at my WAAF papers. They’re in an old case. I put it in your attic for safekeeping after I was demobbed. I’m being sentimental, but--’ Claire’s mother shot Claire a glance as if to say You, sentimental? Never. Claire laughed. ‘I know it’s unlike me, but I’ve got a feeling there’s something I need in the bag. And I think there might be a photograph of Mitch and me at WAAF Headquarters in Morecambe in it.’

  ‘Well you’ll need the ladder,’ Lily Dudley said, making for the door.

  ‘I’ll get it. You stay here and have your tea.’

  Claire went outside to the wooden shed a
t the top of the garden. Her father had kept chickens in it during the war. Now, except for old paint tins and empty beer bottles, kept by her mother out of habit, the shed housed her bicycle and the ladder. ‘I will have a cup of tea with you, Mam,’ Claire said, carrying the ladder through the kitchen. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Unable to see anything in the attic because it was so dark, Claire crawled on her hands and knees to the far wall. She ran the flat of her hand along the brickwork until she came to eaves on the left. A few inches further along she found a pile of old curtains, and behind them, her WAAF case. She opened it and took out a leather shoulder bag. She undid the buckle at the front of the bag and pulled open the middle section. She found what she was looking for and put it in her pocket. After buckling the bag, she returned it to the case, pushed it against the wall and covered it with the old curtains.

  ‘Good God!’ Lily Dudley said, when Claire returned to the kitchen, ‘you look as if you’ve been up the chimney.’

  Claire leant to the left and caught sight of herself in the small mirror that her mother kept on the kitchen window sill. ‘I do, don’t I?’ she laughed.

  ‘I hope you found what you were looking for, girl.’

  ‘I didn’t actually. My old military bag was in the suitcase, but there wasn’t a photograph in it. There were a few papers, but nothing of importance. Never mind, I expect the photo will turn up at home. I’ll have put it somewhere safe...’

  ‘Too safe,’ her mother said, adding boiling water to the teapot.

  ‘I expect so,’ Claire said, laughing. ‘I’ll put this back,’ she said, dragging the ladder out of the kitchen door into the yard.