Tug of War

‘Poor chap,’ said Joe. ‘But listen, Dorcas – he’s a man of the world. He’s a mayor, for goodness’ sake! Which, in this country, means competent, efficient and fully able to negotiate the cha

He spoke gently, unwilling to be critical of Dorcas’s quality of large-heartedness. At far too young an age she had assumed responsibility not only for the well-being of her three younger brothers and sister but also for her feckless father whom she protected like a lioness. Not even Joe, who was conscious of, though mystified by, his own special standing with Dorcas, was allowed to criticize Orlando in her hearing.

She gri

‘Yes! Worse than Lydia! From whom you have learned a good deal of nonsense. And the answer is yes to both those questions. I also took the trouble to enquire about rooms for our return. When we leave the château, I thought we’d spend a day back here in Reims tying up ends, making a statement to Bo

Dorcas blushed. ‘I’d simply love to,’ she said.

Joe looked her up and down with a critical eye. ‘Ah, yes, I do see that. New yellow dress, gloves . . . and aren’t those silk stockings? Good Lord! Now what game are you playing?’

‘If anyone’s playing games, it’s Bo

‘Well, of course I realized. He was so keen to warn me off – to tell me how disturbed he would be by any interference – I interpreted this as a quite deliberate challenge, and he calculated that my response would instantly be to defy him and go my own way, risking the displeasure of the French police force.’

‘You’re double-bluffing each other?’

‘Exactly A comfortable arrangement. And, should anything go wrong, anything embarrassing occur, each of us feels he can cover himself. Misunderstandings, misinterpretations – all easily explained by the foreig

‘Commander! How good to see you again.’ Bo

‘Now, Commander, perhaps you could tell me what progress you have made? Have you proved to Dr Varimont’s satisfaction that the patient is English? I have ready all the forms you will need if you feel we may now take the step of confirming officially his nationality and subsequently arrange for his repatriation.’ He poked at a file on his desk with the end of his pencil.

‘Hold your horses, Bo

‘But you believe the doctor when he tells you that the patient spoke in English, surely?’ Bo

‘I do. But I have not heard him speak for myself. I do not think a foreigner like the doctor could be one hundred per cent certain, from this hearing, that the language was used as by a native speaker. After all, I might replay a nightmare scene quoting bits of French but my accent would not deceive a Frenchman. Though a fellow Englishman might well be taken in.’

‘I see what you mean. It all comes down to speech, doesn’t it?’ said Bo

‘It’s an interesting fact,’ said Dorcas, ‘that studies of shell-shock have turned up victims – and I believe they are victims,’ she added firmly, ‘who suffered from aphasia – dumbness – before entering the war. After their neurasthenia was diagnosed these poor men were found to be unable to remember their sign language. Nothing wrong with their hands as there is probably nothing wrong with Thibaud’s speech mechanisms – it’s the ability to communicate that’s cut off. The root of the problem is what appears to be a paralysis in the brain.’

‘Indeed?’ Bo

Dorcas looked uncomfortable for a moment then raised her chin and favoured him with one of her best smiles. ‘As a matter of fact, I do. I intend to study the subject at London University and qualify as a medical psychologist, perhaps a psychiatrist.’

‘A very worthy aim, mademoiselle. I wish you the best of good fortune.’ Bo

‘So. Your best course, Bo

Joe slapped down on the desk notes he’d taken in his three interviews. ‘That’s what I’ve got. You’re very welcome to it. And I’ll fill in the gaps with your findings and we’ll be getting somewhere. Case number one. Mireille Desforges, claimant. Says the man is one Dominique de Villancourt. Have you checked this man’s details in the army records?’

‘We have.’ Bo