Chapter 18 - Return to Saint-Denis
Outside the chalet was a red Toyota Subaru. The paintwork was scratched; there was a small dent above the left wheel, the French number plates had faded and it was badly in need of a wash. Andrea was loading the bags into the boot when Eric, accompanied by the Benjamins, left the chalet.
His shoulders were drooped, and his head bowed low. Silently, he got into the rear of the car with Mémé and Ursula, while Granddad Benjamin sat down in the front. Andrea checked that the chalet was locked, pressed a button on a security remote control, jumped into the car and wheel spun away.
The Subaru skidded through the trees down towards the lake. All the tourists were inside, out of the cold. This suited Andrea fine as she sped onto the lake road and past a line of parked cars. Every car was empty except a lone American car: a black Chrysler. As she drove out of the village, it pulled out and, with no lights on, followed at a safe distance.
It wasn’t until they reached the motorway that Eric spoke, and he asked mournfully, “Andrea, why aren’t we taking the Range Rover?”
“Because this car is faster.”
“What is this car? I’ve never seen it before.”
“This is a Subaru. It is probably the fastest mass-produced car that can be purchased. Your father keeps a number of different cars.”
“My father kept,” corrected Eric sadly and fell silent again.
Within two hours, they were approaching the Swiss/French border. Signs on the road announced that the border crossing was only five kilometres away, but Andrea took the slip road off of the motorway.
“Where are we going?” asked Granddad Benjamin and pointed back towards the motorway. “The border is that way.”
“I know, Mr Benjamin. At this time, it is inadvisable to present Eric at a major border crossing. According to the news he is dead. The likely of us being stopped is small, but this is an unnecessary risk to take. I do not know how Eric could answer any questions.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” said Mémé warmly, but Granddad Benjamin did not share her view.
During the journey, he had watched Andrea regularly check the mirror, slow down without any reason and speed up when it wasn’t necessary. He was sure Andrea was being thoughtful, but for different reasons than she had said.
They passed Geneva Airport, and Andrea turned the car down a deserted road that ran parallel to the runway. Frost covered fields ran to the airport fence on one side of the road and large, bare trees hugged the other. Andrea slowed down to a crawl and looked into her mirror.
“The road is icy,” she said to justify the speed but then kept her eyes on the rear-view mirror.
There was no car behind, and she sped up. From the way she was driving, it was as if she had grown up in the area. Without using the Galileo satellite navigation system, she speedily negotiated the car around the maze of country roads until the border was in sight. Once more she slowed down.
The crossing was marked by a small hut in the centre of the road. Signs requested that drivers slow down, but the hut appeared empty. As they drove through, Granddad Benjamin noticed Andrea’s hand did not leave the gearstick, and she checked the rear-view mirror every few seconds. After crossing into France, her hand returned to the steering wheel, and she seemed less concerned with what might be behind her.
The rest of the journey passed without incident, and it was almost two in the morning when they arrived back in Paris. Andrea drove them straight to Saint-Denis. Rain drizzled down from the bleak sky and piles of rapidly melting grey slush lined the sides of the roads. Andrea parked the car beside a wall topped with broken glass, and they all got out, stiff from the journey. Down the road, just out of sight, a black Chrysler parked behind an abandoned Citröen.
Wearily, the Benjamins took their suitcases from the car. They made their way through the broken doors of the block of flats and into the graffiti covered lift. Andrea looked neither tired nor sleepy. She supported Eric, who didn’t know where he was or whether he was awake or asleep.
“It is late. Can we stay the night, please?” asked Andrea before the lift doors closed.
“Of course,” replied Mémé, holding back a yawn, “it may be a squeeze but I’m sure we can manage.”
Eric and Ursula were almost asleep when they entered the small flat. After changing into their pyjamas, they were led into Ursula’s room and were put top-to-tail into her little bed. They were asleep before Mémé and Andrea shut the door.
In the living room, Granddad Benjamin was sitting at the table. His head was in his hands, and he was thinking. Wrinkles caused by old age and his new worries stretched up from his brow to his bald head.
“Thank you for letting us stay,” said Andrea to Mémé. “It is late and Eric is exhausted. He could not have managed a journey across town as well.”
“It’s the least we could do after all the things you have done for us.”
The two women sat down together on the zebra coloured sofa.
“Do you mind sleeping here on the sofa, ma cherie?” asked Mémé, despite the fact that there wasn’t anywhere else for Andrea to sleep.
“This will not be a problem,” replied Andrea.
Granddad Benjamin lifted his head from his hands and twisted round to face them. His brow was still wrinkled, and he looked concerned.
“Before you go to sleep, can I ask you what is going on?”
Mémé almost fell off the sofa and spluttered, “Jerome! You can’t ask such a question.”
“I don’t mean to be rude Marie-Thérèse but something is wrong. If we can, I would like to help. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve helped a lonely child.”
Andrea looked up at him. Her face was impossible to read.
“What do you think is going on?” she asked.
“I think the boy is in danger.”
“You are correct,” answered Andrea.
Beside her, Mémé gasped.
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