John Matthews - Past Imperfect

The last skin graft for the burns on his arm had been that February, and his leg had been out of plaster now for over three months. Even his small limp had now gone. Giverny and his partner had been racing up the runway not far behind him and had managed to drag him free only eight seconds before the explosion. His only injury was a broken leg and burns to one arm.

Gerome had been more serious. The initial operation was successful, but he'd spent another two weeks in hospital for monitoring. Then two months later had returned for re-constructive surgery to his breastbone and the insertion of a plastic plate. Yves had ribbed him: 'At least you'll probably be the only man on the coast with an implant. Not a bad novelty line for chatting up on the beach at Cannes.'

There was a period of convalescence for them both at home, but despite Monique's fussing and small complaints that at times it was like having two babies again, Dominic could see her silent pleasure. Her prayers had been answered this time.

After two weeks Gerome went back to work, but Dominic stayed at home. The incident had been a stern prompt that it was time to take retirement: the pension was good, there was an invalidity top-up, and he had enough money put away. He was getting too old to chase villains along runways.

A month before he'd seen a bar in Juan-les-Pins for sale and made contact with Valerie, Louis wife, for advice: she knew the bars and hotel scene on the coast. Themed bars were popular, and his idea was late 50s or 60s with period memorabilia such as an old juke box and pop and movie posters. He had nearly all the period soul records for the juke box already. In the end Valerie was so enthused she offered to go in with him. The thought of the milieu possibly visiting one day for protection money particularly tickled her. 'Just leave it to me,' Dominic winked.

Papers were ready to sign the next month, and the re-fit would see the bar open just before Christmas. It was mostly summer trade, but weekends were good with another slight spurt at Christmas and Easter. The only cautionary note from Monique was that while behind the bar he stick mostly to Perrier. Dominic wasn't sure what was his main motive: re-living his youth, keeping himself occupied or making some money. If he got two out of three, he wouldn't complain. Sipping Perrier while listening to Sam Cooke with the lapping waters of Juan les Pins less than fifty metres away. Heaven.

Early March, Lepoille had phoned him to tell him the news about Duclos in Brazil. The Swiss embassy's efforts to trace and contact relatives of Gerard Belmeau had unearthed the false identity, and photo-fit and dental chart checking through Interpol had brought up the Duclos match soon after.

Corbeix had by then finished the instruction process of his in absentia case against Duclos, with a final trial date set for July. Corbeix had claimed that his main reason for continuing was the case's complexity and to prove to himself that he had the ability and stamina to see it through. 'A good note on which to finish my career. And prove that bastard Thibault wrong at the same time.'

But Dominic suspected that an equally strong reason was something Corbeix mentioned soon before posting for an in absentia continuation. Corbeix had made application to the Garde des Sceaux for Machanaud's old conviction to be struck off, but when it was passed to the Cour de Cassation for review they decided that such action could only be taken 'if a conclusive case was proven against an alternate suspect.' Corbeix wanted to set the record straight. Reparation for injustices past.

'C'est Pret!'

Dominic was disturbed. Monique was by the lounge door, calling out: dinner was ready.

Duck pot au feu with spinach, asparagus and white beans. Yves and Gerome were already at the table when Dominic sat down. He opened the wine and poured: Cote Rotie, Les Jumelles '91. Between the clatter of cutlery of Monique serving, he raised his glass. 'Salut!' Just two weeks before Corbeix had phoned him with the trial verdict on Duclos: guilty . 'Nice to see everyone.'

Raised glasses in return, awkward smile from Yves. He was usually the main one absent, but they'd all made an effort knowing in advance the Capels would be visiting that day.

Conversation was light at first: small talk from Yves and Gerome surrounding their work, a bar in St Maxim that they were planning to head to later. Monique was never happier than with her family around her, and Dominic basked in her glow.

Then after a brief lull she looked across thoughtfully. 'Eyran seems like a nice boy. Quite talkative.'

'Yes, he is. Very much so.' Monique had asked him a few questions after the Capels left, but a lot had been relayed during a frantic three way conversation while they were there. Gerome's English was limited, Monique's and Yves' non-existent, and so Dominic had ended up as interpreter. Sudden flashback to the small room with Calvan and Eyran and Philippe translating. But Dominic knew why Monique was making the comment now.

After Stuart mentioning Eyran's interest in seeing Monique the summer past, the accident and period of hospitalization had pushed back even its mention, and then when he finally broached the subject, Monique took almost another month to answer. Slow acceptance. He'd told her before that the boy bore little or no resemblance to Christian, but still the same questions came, this time filling in more detail: is he talkative, friendly? Does he know any French? Dominic had answered that he was a nice boy, but shy, reserved. That though out of therapy now, losing his parents had obviously still left its mark.

When she finally agreed to the meeting, he'd phoned Stuart Capel. Stuart arranged that they would visit one day in the summer, combine it as part of their holiday. But the Eyran Capel that arrived that day was almost a different boy: talkative, attentive, eyes sparkling, questions every other minute: which is the nearest beach? Do you go there often? Do you have a boat?

'He's improved a lot since I saw him,' Dominic commented. 'Or maybe it's just that he's that bit older. More confident.'

Stuart had arrived alone with Eyran, leaving his wife and daughter on a St Tropez beach. During the three way conversation, Dominic noticed the way Monique had at times looked intently at the boy. He'd never been able to see anything of Christian in the boy, but maybe in that moment she had.

At one point as Stuart brought Dominic up to date on events with Marinella Calvan, Monique tried conversing directly with Eyran. A lot of stilted half sentences with the few English words she knew, arm waving and eye contact. Finally, she invited Eyran to look at the garden: safety of the universal language of trees and plants with some occasional pointing and smiling.

Calvan had phoned Stuart Capel to thank him for saving her neck in court. She also had a proposition: she was writing a book which would be far stronger with some personal interviews with Eyran. She would pay 25 % of the royalties. She was taking the same with the rest going to the university's PLR studies section. Stuart had agreed. It would help pay Eyran's school fees. The book was due out in seven months. 'I'll send you a copy.'

In turn, Dominic brought Stuart up to date with Duclos, the trial and Corbeix. When they'd caught up with Monique and Eyran, they were standing at the back of the garden with Monique pointing out over the low stone wall towards the field and the woods in the distance.

After they'd left, Monique had asked more questions, filling in on what she might have missed. Since the accident, she'd hardly mentioned Eyran and Christian, and he had the feeling that she'd purposely pushed the thoughts away as a form of self-protection. Now it was as if the visit had bought it all back and she was frantically re-assimilating, catching back up. Again she'd asked the question: 'Are you sure he doesn't recall anything while awake? Only under hypnosis.' Sudden concern that she might have been struggling to communicate while everything was already half familiar to Eyran.