The Girl You Left Behind

Germans during the First World War.
    The
Kommandant
in charge of the
     town, one Friedrich Hencken, is recorded as having admired the work on several
     occasions. Le Coq Rouge was requisitioned by the Germans for their personal use. Sophie
     Lefèvre had been vocal in her resistance to their occupation.
    Sophie Lefèvre had been arrested and
     removed from StPéronne in early 1917. At around the same time,
     the painting had disappeared.
    These, Jenks claims, are suggestive enough
     of coercion, of a ‘tainted’ acquisition of a much-loved painting. But this,
     he says emphatically, is not the only suggestion that the painting was obtained
     illegally.
    Evidence just obtained records its
     appearance during the Second World War in Germany, at Berchtesgaden, at a storage
     facility known as the Collection Point, used for stolen and looted works of art that had
     fallen into German possession. He says the words ‘stolen and looted works of
     art’ twice, as if to emphasize his point. Here, Jenks says, the painting
     mysteriously arrived in the possession of an American journalist, Louanne Baker, who
     spent a day at the Collection Point and wrote about it for an American newspaper. Her
     reports of the time mention that she received a ‘gift’ or
     ‘memento’ from the event. She kept the painting at her home, a fact
     confirmed by her family, until it was sold ten years ago to David Halston, who, in turn,
     gave it as a wedding present to his wife.
    This is not new to Liv, who has seen all of
     the evidence under full disclosure. But she listens to the history of her painting read
     aloud in court and finds it hard to associate her portrait, the little painting that has
     hung serenely on her bedroom wall, with such trauma, such globally significant
     events.
    She glances at the press bench. The
     reporters appear rapt, as does the judge. She thinks, absently, that if her whole future
     did not depend on this, she would probably be rapt too. Along the bench, Paul is leaning
     back, his arms crossed combatively.
    Liv lets her gaze travel sideways, and he
     looks straight back at her. She flushes slightly, turns away. She wonders if he will be
     here for every day of the case, and if it is possible to kill a man in a packed
     courtroom.
    Christopher Jenks is standing before them.
     ‘Your Honour, it is deeply unfortunate that Mrs Halston has unwittingly been drawn
     into a series of historic wrongs, but wrongs they are. It is our contention that this
     painting has been stolen twice: once from the home of Sophie Lefèvre, and then,
     during the Second World War, from her descendants by its illegal gifting from the
     Collection Point, during a period in Europe so chaotic that the misdemeanour went
     unrecorded, and, until now, undiscovered.
    ‘But the law, both under the Geneva
     Convention and current restitution legislation, says that these wrongs must be put
     right. It is our case that this painting should be restored to its rightful owners, the
     Lefèvre family. Thank you.’
    Henry’s face, beside her, is
     expressionless.
    Liv gazes towards the corner of the room
     where a printed image of
The Girl You Left Behind
, reproduced to actual size,
     sits on a small stand. Flaherty had asked for the painting to be placed in protective
     holding while its fate was decided, but Henry had told her that she was under no
     obligation to agree to that.
    Still, it is unnerving to see
The
     Girl
here, out of place, her gaze somehow seeming to mock the proceedings
     before her. At home, Liv finds herself walking into the bedroom simply to look at her,
     the intensity of her gaze heightened by the possibility that soon she will never be able
     to look at her again.
    The afternoon stretches. The air in the
     courtroom slows and expands with the central heating. Christopher Jenks takes apart
     their attempt to time-bar the claim with the forensic efficiency of a bored surgeon
     dissecting a frog. Occasionally she looks up to hear phrases like ‘transfer of
     title’ and ‘incomplete provenance’. The judge coughs and examines his
     notes. Paul murmurs to the woman director from his company. Whenever he does, she
     smiles, showing perfect, tiny white teeth.
    Now Christopher Jenks begins to read:
‘15 January 1917
    Today they took Sophie
     Lefèvre. Such a sight you never saw. She was minding her own business down
     in the cellars of Le Coq Rouge when two Germans came across the square and
     dragged her up the steps