Chapter Six

Mansell had missed most of the sights that the motorway towards Normandy had to offer, and they were considerable, the Port of Normandy bridges alone made the four hour drive worthwhile. For the whole duration he snored softly beside her unaware of it all. As it started to get dark, and the roads busier, Nina hoped that they got to their destination before needing to stop for dinner. It was so much easier to get there, unpack, then deal with everything later.

The directions to her cousin's house Endroit d'Arret were straight forward, and for the last hour of the drive she once again had the charming company of Mansell, who seemed refreshed from his slumber. This side of the channel he seemed light hearted, back to the man she knew from her time working at the home. He had always been fun, and that was why his demise had worried her so much. If there was any doubt that she was doing the wrong thing, that this wasn't really important to him, then they were blown away by the change in him. He needed this. And she was really glad to be a part of it, to enable this to happen.

The house was literally built adjacent to the sand dunes just outside Arromanches, the site of what was named Gold Beach for the D-Day invasion, and with the sun setting in the distance the place looked idyllic. An old farm house with converted barns, it was a picturesque whitewashed heaven, if you ignored the odd historical bullet mark that dented the otherwise perfectly imperfect plaster. It was steeped in history, and a perfect base for this trip.

Letting them into the main house, they both took in the interior appreciatively. It was rustic, yet modern enough that they had everything they needed.

"Right, unpack, and then we'll go get something to eat." Nina led him into the house, "I believe there are three or four bedrooms, so take your pick, yeah?" Nodding he followed her in to the lounge, then from there up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Nina chose the bedroom at the back of the house, a bed nestled between the angled beams and eaves of the roof. The large bed looked appetising; she had, after all, been driving all day. But she needed food, and Mansell deserved the chance to be part of things, to see what was happening in the town. So she ignored the inviting temptation of the bed, and instead unpacked her small bag, then headed off to see how the old man was getting on.

When Mansell appeared from his room he'd changed into a blazer and tie, and it was emblazoned with a swatch of medals that were gleaming. She felt both humbled and proud to be in his company.

"Wow Mansell, you look AMAZING!"

He gave a mock bow, then offered his elbow, "you deserve to be on the arm of a dapper man!"

And hanging on his arm, she let him lead her out into the nearby town, a place filled with war veterans, military people and politicians. Every night there was a dinner or a presentation and tonight was no exception.

Theo looked at the manager of the home and shook his head in frustration, he was getting nowhere, "I get that my grandfather is independent to the point of being stubborn, and of course that he's allowed to leave here, but I don't get how he can be missing for most of the day and no one realised. This is dreadful, anything could have happened, he could be lost or lying injured somewhere, hell he could be dead."

The manager, an instantly dislikeable short man with no chin, grimaced then offered, "we offer full freedom here Mr Peterson, it's not unusual that your grandfather goes out for most of the day. I'm sorry; the police say they can't do anything until he's been missing for twenty four hours. He left here at just after nine am."

Theo's anger at this incompetence was second only to fear and guilt. He remembered how his grandfather was the last time he saw him, how low he'd been, how sad. Was that a sign? Was that him reaching out? He'd not appreciated how down he was, he had been derogatory towards his family, he hated that he hadn't dealt with that, talked it through. He'd been too absorbed in his own hell with Sadie.

He rubbed a hand over his face, somewhere, somehow he'd become obsessed with his own life, Mansell had been good to him, since the moment he'd appeared and thrust himself into the heart of the old man's family, he'd never asked for anything back, he'd just given time and effort to his newly identified grandson. And he'd repaid him by ignoring his cries for help.

Even Dan had picked up on it, he'd asked him to step in, how could he tell his brother that he'd let their grandfather down? If he'd killed himself...that was reprehensible.

Now wasn't the time for thinking, for rehashing all that he'd gotten wrong, and thinking the worst, it was for action, he had to find Mansell and deal with whatever that would entail.

With a groan, he turned to the manager, "can I see his room? There may be a clue."

The man nodded and led him to the room, opening the door with a master key. "I'll leave you alone..."

Theo felt as though he was intruding, looking into his grandfather's home, but he didn't know what else to do. There was a real chance that he'd ended his life, that was his most worrying thought. His heart was racing and he felt sick as he stepped in the room and cast his eyes around. He'd never been in the room without Mansell, and it was eerily quiet, empty. He had no appreciation of the life that his grandfather brought to a room, and it was sad without him, poignant and lonely.

As he sat on his grandfather's bed, he called his brother in Washington, but there was no answer, he probably hadn't reached his destination yet. He wasn't a religious man, but as he glanced around the room he begged any God that might be listening to show him a clue, he wanted to find his grandfather safe and well, then he could tear a strip off him, remind of how much worry he'd caused, how much he cared about him...he knew he hadn't said or showed that half as much as he should have. He needed the chance to tell him, to show him, to thank him.

He ran a hand through his hair, maybe if he found him he'd take him back to London; look after him for a while, it was obvious that he felt he'd been put out to pasture in the residential home, though that had never been the intention. Then he thought about Melody, stuck in a home with a probably alcoholic mother who cared more about herself and money than the needs of a three year old.

As he jumped to his feet in frustration he suddenly spotted a space near the front door. Something normally sat there...what was it? He banged his hand against his forehead and then realised...it was the holdall Mansell used whenever he went anywhere; he'd tripped over it the last time he'd visited. If he took a bag, then he wasn't killing himself, was he? He had planned to go somewhere...

"So," Nina placed her knife and fork across her plate and sighed. "The celebrations start on Friday, which gives us two days. You need to list the places that are MOST important, and I'll organise getting you there. I mean seventy years on there can't be THAT many travelling here. I don't mean to sound rude...once we've got you the right invites, then we'll go and find your brother's grave, and anywhere that is important to you. Ok?"

Mansell smiled, "how can I ever thank you enough for this?"

She shrugged, "for what? You wanted to see your brother's grave, yet you fail to appreciate that you are as much a hero as he was. You deserve to meet the French President, to be up on a stage so the people of this country can recognise what YOU did. You lost your brother; it could have been your own life...now, give this country the chance to celebrate you, to show you how important your actions were...not just here, but everywhere. The Second World War really did involve a lot of the world."

He made to protest, but she reached out, placed a hand over his, "no Mansell. I won't hear anything. You are playing this down, making out that it's nothing, but it isn't. It's SOMETHING, something very big. Ok?"

He sighed, then reached for his glass of wine and took a sip, "if you say..."

"I do!"

She waved to the waiter and handed him her credit card to pay the bill, Mansell was looking shattered.

"I'll pay..." he started to protest, but instead she pulled out a wad of leaflets and flyers from her pocket. "Use a pen, mark as many things as you want to see and I'll try and fit them into some sort if itinerary. OK?"

He nodded gratefully and Nina felt good. She liked that she was helping someone; it made her feel useful, worthwhile.

Offering him an arm, she escorted him back to the house they were renting. He was exhausted, she could tell that, but it had been a long day, and she had underestimated how tired he'd get, how physically demanding this was on someone of his age. Fortunately she'd visited a supermarket before they closed, and as she opened her sketch pad, she was able to crack open a bottle of calvados...local apple brandy, a real treat. Whenever she had ideas, she had to get them down on paper ASAP, and the drive from the motorway through deep agricultural lands had stimulated lots of visions for jewellery ideas.

Nina's phone ringing woke her the next morning, who'd have thought she'd sleep so well in the holiday home? But it was beyond peaceful in the house. With a groan she reached for the phone and connected the call.

"Hello?"

As she waited for a response she grabbed her watch from the bedside table and groaned, eight am? Who'd call her that early?

"Nina! Thank God you answered."

It was Lilah, a panicked Lilah, and as someone who rarely got upset, that was enough to cause Nina to sit bolt upright in bed, "what's wrong?"

Her friend was hyperventilating, "well, I got up early, I'm meeting Amelia to discuss some promotion stuff...anyway, I turned on the news whilst I'm making some breakfast..."

"You're not making sense Lilah, what has got you so stressed?"

Lilah swore under her breath, then sighed, "what's the name of the guy you're escorting?"

"Mansell, Mansell Gershwin, why?"

Her response was met with another muffled curse, "bloody hell Nina, he's on the news, he's missing, the police want to know where he is. The family are going nuts..."

"What's their problem? He's safe here with me..."

Lilah sighed, "seems he hasn't told anyone when he left the home yesterday morning, police have been searching for him and everything, you'd better sort it, or you may be arrested for kidnapping!"

Nina had pahed at that idea assuring her friend that she would be fine, that they were fine and Mansell was more than old enough to take care of himself, but as she hung up, she began to wonder just what might happen.

She was slicing a brioche loaf and smothering it in butter when she heard Mansell come down the stairs. Since her phone call with Lilah, she'd managed to get online, read some home news reports, and every word her friend had uttered in panic was right, he was reported missing, and a search for his whereabouts had started in Brighton, the articles quoted his grandson who was 'beside himself'.

"Hi Nina, did you sleep well?" His question dragged her from her reverie and she looked up at him with a grimace, "I did until I got a phone call...Mansell, did you tell your family you were coming to France?"

He stared at her for a moment as though she had two heads, the shook his head gently, "they don't care about me, why would I?"

She groaned and stood to place a hand on his shoulder, "because you didn't tell the home either, there's a man hunt going on for you back home, they think you're missing. They think that I've kidnapped you and I could be arrested if we don't sort this out."

He paled visibly and staggered slightly, so she eased him down into the chair, "Mansell, you SHOULD have told someone, why didn't you tell the home you were going away?"

"No. No one bloody cares what you do there..."

She sighed; this was such a sad, unhappy man, "well your grandson is spearheading this search for you. I'm going to call the police, tell them what's happening, they'll want to speak to you...reassure them that I haven't kidnapped you, that I'm not a criminal."

Half an hour later, between them they'd managed to appease the police back in Brighton, Mansell had convinced them that Nina was helping him and that he had travelled of his own free will, and had hung up. When she was reassured that this was all that the police needed to get her 'off the hook', she once again engrossed herself in helping Mansell get the best experience from the trip.

She'd already been looking into the celebrations being held along the coast, and had been told categorically that Mansell would and could be guest of honour at any or all of them that he wished to attend. Now that they weren't subjects of an international manhunt, they planned that morning to head to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission office to find out the exact location of Gordon Gershwin's grave. Whilst many members of his family had visited the grave, Mansell had avoided it for seventy years, a large portion of that time was due to guilt that he'd lived and his brother hadn't, then for the guilt that he hadn't been there at all. This was his last chance and he was desperate to visit the grave.

The main office for the Commission was back in Britain, but there was an office in Caen, so they drove there after breakfast. By lunchtime they'd located Gordon's grave, in the War Cemetery in Bayeux. As they left the office Nina could see Mansell was exhausted emotionally, so she led him to the car, then drove him to a cafe in a nearby town. With tea for him, coffee for her - the strong French variety, and cake, they sat outside in the sun kissed street and ate the food in silence.

"You ok?" she asked putting her empty cup back on the table.

He nodded, "yes, I'm ok. It's all just a little strange, you know? Suddenly this is all final, all real. I have to deal with it."

She smiled compassionately, "I can imagine that Gordon would have nothing but anger that you've let this disturb you for so long, he'd want you to do what he can't. Live."

He grinned, "You're right. I want to take you out to dinner tonight, treat you. My way of thanking you."

She shook her head, "you don't have to thank me. I'm enjoying this, and I'm proud to be escorting a hero like you. So thank YOU."

He groaned, "I'm not a bloody hero."

She gestured around herself where every window was adorned with posters and paintings and advertisements for the coming weekend, "these people are planning a gigantic party on the weekend, to celebrate the fact that they can live, that they CAN celebrate. You helped bring freedom to this WHOLE country, that makes you a hero, more than that. You need to get over this, ok?"

"What do you mean 'he's fine'? Is that it? He's eighty bloody eight." Theo was exasperated, he'd not been able to get hold of neither Sadie nor her sister since the previous evening, he had no idea if Melody was safe, and now a police officer had greeted him with a smile and a comment of - "he's been in touch, he's fine!"

The officer's smile dropped, "he called, he'd seen the news, realised that we were looking for him, he's in Normandy."

"France? How the fuck did he get there?"

Again the officer grimaced, "excuse me sir, but there's no need for language like that."

Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "he's an old man, and he's not able to travel that far."

It was the turn of the manager of the home to speak, "on the contrary Mr Peterson, your grandfather is a spritely and active man."

The police officer cut in, "he's not alone, he said that a friend had taken him. They're safe, and he's looking forward to the D-day memorial."

"Friend? Who? Do YOU know who has taken him?"

The manager of the home had the good grace to look sheepish at that question. Exasperated, he rolled his eyes, "Jesus Christ. This is absolutely ludicrous. Have you got an address? I'm going to go find him, you might think this is ok, but I don't." As he reached for his coat, he turned to the manager again, "you haven't heard the end of this!"