Chasing Ghosts by Madalyn Morgan (best fantasy books to read .txt) 📕

he had met her on one of those occasions. If Simone was the reason Mitch had stayed in Canada, she must mean a lot to him, for him to abandon his daughter. Mitch was as devoted to Aimée as she was to him.  Questions whirled round in Claire’s head until it ached. There were no answers.

She caught her breath. ‘Damn!’ she said out loud. When the plane landed at Brize Norton and she was told by Commander Landry that Mitch was officially AWOL she had been so worried that she’d forgotten to let her sister Bess know that she and Aimée were back in England. She ought to telephone her, not only to let her know that they had arrived home safely but also to tell her that they would not be joining the rest of the Dudley family at the Foxden Hotel for Christmas.

Claire wiped the tears from her face with the flat of her hand, hauled herself off the settee and lost her balance. Nausea swept over her. She felt light-headed. Her stomach lurched and the pulse in her temples began to throb. She took a couple of slow deep breaths. She needed to eat something and hobbled out of the room. Ignoring the telephone in the hall, she went into the kitchen. She opened the door to the larder and found a bottle of milk, a loaf, half-a-pound of butter, six eggs, and a greaseproof paper parcel, which she assumed contained bacon. Her neighbour had not only remembered the bread and milk, she had bought Claire a small feast.

Dying for a cup of tea, Claire filled the kettle and lit the gas. Too tired to cook but knowing she needed to eat something to settle her stomach, she took the bread from the larder and cut a thick slice. While the kettle boiled she built a fire, speared the bread on the toasting fork and held it close to the crackling kindling. When she had made the tea, she buttered the toast and returned to the sitting room, where she sat on the rug in front of the fire and ate.

Armed with a second cup of tea she went upstairs and took off her outdoor clothes. In the bottom drawer of the tallboy was an old pair of winceyette pyjamas. The knees were worn and they were frayed around the ankles, which was why she hadn’t taken them to Canada. They felt cold to the touch. Claire hoped they weren’t damp. She didn’t have the energy to go downstairs and air them by the fire, or to sort through her suitcase for a dry pair, so she put them on. Swallowing the last of her tea she climbed into bed and pulled the eiderdown up to her chin. She was soon asleep.

‘Where is my husband?’ Claire looked around the vast airport concourse. ‘Where is Captain Alain Mitchell? I can’t see him. Aimée, don’t wander off darling. We’ll be leaving as soon as Daddy gets here.’

‘Excuse me, Mrs Mitchell, you need to board now. The plane is about to take off.’

‘But my husband isn’t here.’ Claire turned her back on the man. ‘Where did Mitch say he was going?’ she asked her father-in-law.

‘As far away from you as possible.’ Alain Mitchell Snr. snarled, his mouth gaping open to show a black toothless void.

‘What’s happening? I don’t understand. Mitch?’ Claire shouted. ‘Alain?’ Aimée began to cry. Claire reached out to her, but her daughter backed away. ‘Aimée, darling?’ Claire called, ‘don’t you leave me too.’

‘I’m sorry Mrs Mitchell, but if you don’t board now the plane will go without you.’

‘Then let it go! You don’t seem to understand that my husband, Captain Alain Mitchell, isn’t here and I am not leaving without him! And,’ Claire looked around, ‘where is my daughter? I only turned away from her for a second. Aimée!’ she shouted, ‘Aimée where are you?’

Claire spun round and glared at the official. ‘What have you done with her? I am not leaving Canada without my daughter and my husband.’

One man grabbed Claire by the arm while another wrapped a thick winter coat around her shoulders. Together they marched her away from Mitch’s sneering father. She struggled to look over her shoulder; to say goodbye to him, but he was no longer there. Instead, Aimée stood in his place.

‘Aimée?’

‘Goodbye, Mummy.’

‘You can’t stay here, Aimée.’

‘I’m waiting for Daddy.’

‘But he isn’t here, darling. Let me go!’ Claire screamed at the airport officials. ‘I need to get my daughter. Please,’ she pleaded, first to one and then the other of the men. Neither took any notice. ‘Aimée?’ she called again, ‘Aimée? Come to me, sweetheart.’ Claire shook herself free of the men’s grasp and tried to run, but the coat was too heavy. It weighed her down. She couldn’t move. She gasped for breath, as the collar of the coat tightened around her throat.

‘Get it off me!’ she screamed. Clawing at her neck, she threw off the coat that threatened to strangle her and turned to her daughter. She wasn’t there. First Mitch had disappeared and now Aimée.

Somewhere far in the distance she heard a shrill incessant ringing. She rolled over, arms flailing to free herself from the tangle of sheets and blankets that had been the restraints in her nightmare. She pushed the counterpane from her face and opened her eyes. She lay on her back, disorientated. Staring at the ceiling she squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and exhaled. ‘Bess!’ she said aloud. ‘It’s the telephone. It’ll be our Bess.’

Dragging herself out of bed, Claire grabbed the eiderdown, threw it around her shoulders and left the bedroom in a bundle of bedding. Barefoot, she ran downstairs to the hall and snatched up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Claire, it’s Bess. Thank God you’re there. You were going to ring me when you landed. When you didn’t, I began to worry.