Crossing the Channel: A Paris WW2 spy thriller and an emotional historical romance by Pauline Vuillard

Author:Pauline Vuillard [Vuillard, Pauline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

It was a little after eleven in the morning when Denise walked through the door of the Paris branch of the ICRC, the International Committee of the Red Cross, in the 15th "arrondissement". She went to the reception desk and explained that she had an appointment with Garance Duchemin, the branch's director. The secretary asked her to wait and went up to the second floor to announce her. A minute later, she returned to collect her and escorted her to a small room with a molded ceiling and a high, bright window. A tall, elegant brunette in a dark skirt suit was seated behind an old Empire desk. She rose to greet her as she entered.

“Please have a seat,” Garance Duchemin said, as soon as the customary greetings had been exchanged.

She returned to her desk, rummaged through a stack of files piled beside her, pulled one out and said:

“I had your friend from the British Red Cross on the phone yesterday. She telegraphed me the information you were looking for. She was able to access a list of Dieppe prisoners drawn up by the Canadian General Staff. The list also includes the names of soldiers who fell in action or went missing on August 19.”

Denise turned pale. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For more than three days now, she had been dreading this moment as much as hoping for it. She fleetingly caught a glimpse of Armand's handsome face, his charming, laughing green eyes. Inwardly, she prayed for good news, before asking:

“Is the name Armand de Champlain in it?”

“ ... Yes,” Garance Duchemin murmured, lowering her eyes, pained – or at the very least embarrassed – to have to reveal the information she had before her.

“And?”

“I'm sorry, but... Armand de Champlain was killed in action on the beach at Dieppe, like many soldiers from his regiment,” announced the director of the ICRC's Paris office.

Killed? Denise remained prostrated on her chair for a long moment without saying a word. There was nothing to say. But grief and anger suffocated her. She was not, nor would she ever be, one of those who – out of fatality or, worse, habit – accept the death of loved ones unmoved. Yes, death was our ultimate destiny; but it was no less unbearable, no less revolting, especially when it struck loved ones. Inwardly, she screamed; her pain was awful. Armand, her one-night Armand – one night that had counted for a lifetime – was gone; the world would never be quite the same again.

“Do we know... how? I mean, in what circumstances?”

“No, unfortunately, I can't say. There's nothing beyond the name and number.”

“I see.”

She warmly thanked her interlocutor for her kindness and availability, shook her hand and, a few minutes later, left the office.

Outside, she walked like a ghost, staggering slightly as pedestrians moved out of her way. She could hear Armand's voice in spite of herself:

“If you're free this evening, I suggest we try to get to the bottom of what Fate is trying to tell us today.

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