Hands of the Traitor Read Free

chair. This was not the hesitant
woman he remembered meeting yesterday by the medical books. He
fetched her a drink from the bar and guessed he wasn't the first
man to offer to buy her one that lunchtime.
    He sat facing Zoé across the small
table in the low-ceilinged room. "Did you go back for the book?" It
made as good an opener as any.
    She sipped her coke and lemon before
carefully placing her glass in the center of the beer mat. Whatever
lipstick she used, none had come off on the rim. Her smile lit up
the pub as she shook her head. "Some of the English words were too
technical for me."
    "I can't believe that. You talk English
well." He picked up his beer. He was a teenager again, feeling
awkward just being with her. But he didn't want Zoé to think he
drank a lot. He replaced his half pint glass of beer on the table
without drinking anything. "What's my French like?"
    She tapped him on the nose and
giggled. "You talk French like an old-fashioned book."
    He blinked. "They told me at school I
was good at languages."
    "Ah, l'ecole . At school I expect they had the old
books."
    "An old teacher," said Matt, aware
again of the arousal he got from her perfume. Where had she been
all his life? "But you can understand me when I talk in
French?"
    "Very well."
    "Your English is excellent. What are
you doing here?"
    She blushed. "I came to England
because ... to get ... to improve it."
    He wondered why the hesitation. "Seems
fine to me. Are you nursing over here?"
    "I am staying in a hostel for French
students."
    "You're a student? "
    "I have been a nurse for eight years
now. The hostel is not just for the students. Maybe I will find
work in an English hospital. And you, you have a family living
close?"
    "Only my grandfather. He's not well."
Perhaps he shouldn't be mentioning him at all, especially not to a
nurse.
    "He is in an old people's
house?"
    "Home. Old people's home. He's ...
he's not there at the moment." He wasn't going to explain about the
incident with the fruit and the fact that his grandfather had just
been moved to a secure hospital.
    "And your parents?"
    "My dad couldn't cope. My parents are
separated."
    "And you live alone?"
    "I do now. I've been living with..."
The pause was too long and too obvious, but Zoé just smiled. He
decided to take the initiative. "You have a boyfriend,
Zoé?"
    She seemed taken aback by the
bluntness of his question and took her time before replying. "I
have what you English call ... an understanding. Is that
it?"
    So this was the catch. He knew
there would be one. But he laughed and put his glass beside hers.
"An understanding? Now that's an old fashioned expression."
    "My English teacher was old too, so
now I read the English books to learn everyday English. Fiction ...
Romances."
    Had she paused and then emphasized the
word romances deliberately? Perhaps not.
    "Not just medical books then?"
    "Only for my work. And why do you buy
them, Matt, if you are a private investigator?"
    "I can't afford to buy them. I wanted to
look something up. Can I ask you a medical question?"
    "Not a personal one, I
hope."
    He loved her. "Everyone says my
grandfather lost his marbles -- went mad -- at the end of the war.
Now it's all started again. Can anyone still get screaming
nightmares after sixty years?"
    "Can something be so terrible
that the scars in the mind they never heal? Oui , I think it could be so. You make it
sound horrible."
    "It is horrible. Something blew my granddad's
brain in northern France. He used to talk to me about it, but I
don't know if he was telling the truth. The doctors aren't
bothering to treat him any more because they say they can't find a
physical cause. Quite honestly I'm worried sick."
    "You are sick?" She leaned forward and
brushed his cheek with the back of her hand.
    "It's an expression." He waited for
Zoé to touch him again but she stayed in her seat. He swallowed a
mouthful of beer. "They weren't looking after him properly at the
nursing home. No one visited, except