Page 39 of The Girl You Left Behind
“These are his orders.”
A small group of older people were beginning to surround the men, as if to form a barrier.
“You cannot persecute innocent women!” Madame Louvier was declaiming. “You take over her home, make her your servant, and now you would imprison her? For no reason?”
“Sophie. Here.” My sister reappeared at my shoulder. “At least take your things.” She thrust a canvas bag at me. It overflowed with belongings she had hurriedly stuffed into it. “Just stay safe. Do you hear me? Stay safe and come back to us.”
The crowd was murmuring its protest. It had become a febrile, angry thing, growing in size. I glanced sideways and saw Aurélien, his face furious and flushed, standing on the pavement with Monsieur Suel. I didn’t want him to get involved. If he turned on the Germans now it would be a disaster. And it was important that Hélène had an ally these next few months. I pushed my way toward him. “Aurélien, you are the man of the house. You must take care of everyone when I am gone,” I began, but he stopped me.
“It is your own fault!” he blurted out. “I know what you did! I know what you did with the German!”
Everything stopped. I looked at my brother, the mixture of anguish and fury on his face.
“I heard you and Hélène talking. I saw you come back that night!”
I registered the exchanges of glances around me.Did Aurélien Bessette just say what I think he did?
“It’s not what—” I began. But he turned and bolted back into the bar.
A new silence fell. Aurélien’s accusation was repeated in murmurs to those who hadn’t heard it. I registered the shock on the faces around me, and Hélène’s fearful glance sideways. I was Liliane Béthune now. But without the mitigating factor of resistance. The atmosphere hardened around me, tangibly.
Hélène’s hand reached for mine. “You should have gone,” she was whispering, her voice breaking. “You should have run, Sophie....” She made as if to take hold of me, but she was pulled away.
One of the Germans grabbed my arm, pushing me toward the back of the truck. Someone shouted something from the distance, but I couldn’t make out whether it was a protest at the Germans or some term of abuse aimed at me. Then I heard “Putain! Putain!” and flinched.He is sending me to Édouard, I told myself, when my heart felt as if it would break out of my chest.I know he is. I must have faith.
And then I heard her, her voice breaking into the silence. “Sophie!” A child’s voice, piercing and anguished. “Sophie! Sophie!” Édith burst through the crowd that had gathered and hurled herself at me and clutched my leg. “Don’t leave! You said you wouldn’t leave!”
It was the most she had said aloud since she had come to us. I swallowed, my eyes filling with tears. I stooped and put my arms around her.How can I leave her?My thoughts blurred, my senses narrowing to the feel of her little hands.
And then I glanced up and saw how the German soldiers watched her, something speculative in their gaze. I reached up and smoothed her hair. “Édith, you must stay with Hélène and be brave. Yourmamanand I will come back for you. I promise.”
She didn’t believe me. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I promise. I am going to see my husband.” I tried to make her believe me, to fill my voice with certainty.
“No,” she said, her grip tightening. “No. Please don’t leave me.”
My heart broke. I pleaded silently with my sister.Take her away from here. Don’t let her see.Hélène prized her fingers from me. She was sobbing now. “Please don’t take my sister,” she said to the soldiers, as she pulled Édith away. “She does not know her mind. Please don’t take my sister. She does not deserve this.” The mayor put his arm around her shoulders, his expression confused, the fight knocked out of him by Aurélien’s words.
“I will be all right, Édith. Be strong,” I called to her, above the noise. Then someone spat at me, and I saw it, a thin, vile trail, upon my sleeve. The crowd jeered. Panic filled me. “Hélène?” I called. “Hélène?”
German hands propelled me roughly into the back of the truck. I found myself in a dark interior, seated on a wooden bench. A soldier took his place opposite me, his rifle resting in the crook of his elbow. The canvas flap dropped down, and the engine fired into life. The noise swelled, and so did the sound of the crowd, as if this action had unleashed those who wished to abuse me. I wondered briefly if I could throw myself through the small gap, but then I heard “Whore!” followed by Édith’s thin wail, and the sharp crack of a stone as it hit the side of the truck, causing the soldier to bark out a warning. I flinched as another struck, behind where I was sitting. The German looked at me steadily.
I sat, my hands pressed together on my bag, and began to shake. As the truck pulled away, I did not try to lift the canvas flap to see out. I did not want to feel the eyes of the town upon me. I did not want to hear their verdict. I sat on the arch of the wheel and slowly dropped my head into my hands, murmuring, “Édouard, Édouard, Édouard,” to myself. And: “I’m sorry.” I’m not sure who I was apologizing to.
Only when I reached the outskirts of the town did I dare to look up. Through the flapping gap in the canvas I could just see the red sign of Le Coq Rouge glinting in the winter sun, and the bright blue of Édith’s dress on the edge of the crowd. It grew smaller and smaller, until finally, like the town, it disappeared.
PART TWO
11
LONDON, 2006
Liv sits in the silent cubicle for as long as she can without someone staging an intervention, listening as several women come in, sometimes in pairs, chattering as they check hair and makeup. She checks for nonexistent e-mail and plays Scrabble on her phone. Finally, after scoring “flux,” she gets up, flushes, and washes her hands, staring at her reflection with a kind of perverse satisfaction. Her makeup has smudged beneath one eye. She fixes this in the mirror, wondering why she bothers, given that she is about to sit next to Roger again.
She checks her watch. When can she beg an early-morning meeting and head for home? With luck, Roger will be so drunk by the time she goes back out that he will have forgotten she was even there.
Liv takes one last look at her reflection, pushes her hair off her face, and grimaces at her appearance.What’s the point?And then she opens the door.
