Page 96 of The Girl You Left Behind
In his low, sonorous voice, Christopher Jenks ends his reading. The courtroom is still, only the sound of the stenographer audible in the silence. Overhead a fan whirs lazily, failing to displace the air.
“‘I knew that once they decided to take over Le Coq Rouge the girl was done for.’ Ladies and gentlemen, I think this diary entry tells us pretty conclusively that any relationship Sophie Lefèvre had with the Germans in St. Péronne was not a particularly happy one.”
He strolls through the courtroom like someone taking the air on a beachfront, casually studying the photocopied pages.
“But this is not the only reference. The same local resident, Vivienne Louvier, has proven to be a remarkable documenter of life in the little town. And if we go back several months, she writes the following:
The Germans are taking their meals at Le Coq Rouge. They have the Bessette sisters cooking them food so rich that the smell drifts around the square and drives us all half mad with longing. I told Sophie Bessette—or Lefèvre as she now is—in the boulangerie that her father would not have stood for it, but she says there is nothing she can do.
He lifts his head. “‘Nothing she can do.’ The Germans have invaded the artist’s wife’s hotel, forced her to cook for them. She has the enemy actually in her home, and she is utterly powerless. All compelling stuff. But this is not the only evidence. A search of the Lefèvre archive unearthed a letter written by Sophie Lefèvre to her husband. It apparently never reached him, but I believe that will prove irrelevant.”
He holds up the paper, as if struggling to see it in the light.
Herr Kommandant is not as foolish as Becker but unnerves me more. He stares at your portrait of me and I want to tell him he has no right. That painting, above all others, belongs to you and me. Do you know the most peculiar thing, Édouard? He actually admires your work. He knows of it, knows that of the Matisse school, of Weber and Purrmann. How strange it has been to find myself defending your superior brushwork to a German Kommandant!
But I refuse to take it down, no matter what Hélène says. It reminds me of you, and of a time when we were happy together. It reminds me that humankind is capable of love and beauty as well as destruction.
I pray for your safe and swift return, my dearest.
Yours ever, Sophie
“‘That painting, above all others, belongs to you and me.’”
Jenks lets that hang in the air. “So, this letter, found long after her death, tells us that the painting meant a great deal to the artist’s wife. It also tells us pretty conclusively that a GermanKommandanthad his eye on it. Not only that, but that he had a good idea of the market as a whole. He was, if you like, anaficionado.” He rolls out the word, emphasizing each syllable, as if it were the first time he had used it.
“And here, the looting of the First World War would seem to be a precursor to that of the Second. Here we have educated German officers, knowing what they want, knowing what may hold value, and earmarking it—”
“Objection.” Angela Silver, Liv’s lawyer, is on her feet. “There is a vast difference between somebody admiring a painting, and having knowledge of the artist, and actually taking it. My learned friend has not provided any evidence whatsoever that theKommandanttook the painting, simply that he admired it, and that he ate his meals in the hotel where Madame Lefèvre lived. All of these things are circumstantial.”
The judge mutters, “Sustained.”
Christopher Jenks wipes his brow. “I am simply attempting to paint a picture, if you like, of life within the town of St. Péronne in 1916. It’s impossible to understand how a painting might be taken into somebody’s custody without understanding the climate of the time, and how the Germans had carte blanche to requisition, ortake what they liked, from any house that they chose.”
“Objection.” Angela Silver studies her notes. “Irrelevant. There is no evidence to suggest that this painting was requisitioned.”
“Sustained. Keep to the point, Mr. Jenks.”
“Merely trying, again, to... paint a picture, my lord.”
“Leave the painting to Lefèvre, if you will, Mr. Jenks.” There is a low murmur of laughter around the courtroom.
“I mean to demonstrate that there were many valuable items requisitioned by German troops that went unrecorded, just as they were not ‘paid for,’ as promised by the German leaders of the time. I mention the general climate for such behavior because it is our contention thatThe Girl You Left Behindwas one such item.”
“‘He stares at your portrait of me and I want to tell him he has no right.’ Well, it is our case, Your Honor, that Kommandant Friedrich Hencken felt he had every right indeed. And that this painting did not leave German possession for another thirty years.”
Paul looks at Liv. She looks away.
She concentrates on the image of Sophie Lefèvre. Fools, she seems to say, her impenetrable gaze appearing to take in every person there.
Yes, thinks Liv, glancing over at Paul.Yes, we are.
•••
They adjourn at half past three. Angela Silver is eating a sandwich in her chambers. Her wig lies on the table beside her, and a mug of tea stands on her desk. Henry sits opposite.
They tell her that the first day had gone as they had expected. But the tang of tension hangs in the atmosphere, like salt in the air miles from the coast. Liv shuffles her photocopied pile of translations as Henry turns to Angela.
“Liv, didn’t you say that when you spoke to Sophie’s nephew, he mentioned something about her being disgraced? I wondered whether it would be worth pursuing that line.”
