The Girl You Left Behind

up with Ranic in an
     overcrowded house full of noise, like the one she has just left.
    Finally she makes herself a mug of tea and
     walks through to her bedroom. She sits in the middle of her bed, leans back against the
     pillows and studies Sophie in her gilded frame.
    I secretly like the idea that you could have a painting so powerful it could shake
     up a whole marriage.
    Well, Sophie, she thinks, you shook up a
     whole lot more than that. She gazes at the painting she has loved for almost a decade
     and finally she allows herself to think about the day she and David had bought it, the
     way they had held her aloft in the Spanish sunshine, her colours bouncing in the white
     light, reflecting the future they believedthey had together. She
     remembers them hanging it in this room on their homecoming; the way she had gazed at
The Girl
, wondering what David saw in herself that mirrored the image and
     feeling somehow more beautiful for what he had seen.
    You look like she does when you –
    She remembers a day, in the early weeks
     after his death, when she had raised her head dully from her damp pillow and Sophie had
     seemed to be looking straight at her. This, too, is bearable, her expression had said.
     You may not know it now. But you will survive.
    Except Sophie hadn’t.
    Liv fights the sudden lump in her throat.
     ‘I’m so sorry for what happened to you,’ she says, into the silent
     room. ‘I wish it could have been different.’
    Suddenly overwhelmed with sadness, she
     stands, walks over to the painting and turns it round so that she can no longer see it.
     Perhaps it’s a good thing she’s leaving this house: the space on the wall
     would have been a constant reminder of her failure. It already feels oddly symbolic of
     the way Sophie herself was effectively rubbed out.
    And just as she is about to release it, she
     stops.
    The study, over these past weeks, has grown
     messy and chaotic, piles of papers spilling over every surface. She moves around it with
     new purpose, placing them in neat piles, in folders, securing each with an elastic band.
     She doesn’t know what she will do with them once the case is over. Finally, she
     seeks out the red folder that Philippe Bessette gave her. She flicks through the
     delicate sheets of paper until she finds the two pieces she is looking for.
    She checks them, then takes them into the
     kitchen. She lights a candle, and holds the pieces, one at a time, over the flickering
     flame, until there is nothing left but ashes.
    ‘There, Sophie,’ she says.
     ‘If nothing else, you can have that one on me.’
    And now, she thinks, for David.

33
    ‘I thought you’d be headed off
     by now. Jake’s asleep in front of
America’s Funniest Home
     Videos
.’ Greg walks into the kitchen bare-foot and yawning. ‘You want
     me to put up the camp bed? It’s kind of late to be dragging him home.’
    ‘That would be great.’ Paul
     barely looks up from his files. His laptop is propped open in front of him.
    ‘What are you doing going over those
     again? The verdict is due Monday, surely? And – um – didn’t you just quit your
     job?’
    ‘There’s something I’ve
     missed. I know it.’ Paul runs his finger down the page, flicking impatiently to
     the next. ‘I have to check through the evidence.’
    ‘Paul.’ Greg pulls up a chair.
     ‘Paul,’ he says, a little louder
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s done, bro. And it’s
     okay. She’s forgiven you. You’ve made your big gesture. I think you should
     just leave it now.’
    Paul leans back, drags his hands over his
     eyes. ‘You think so?’
    ‘Seriously? You look kind of
     manic.’
    Paul takes a swig of his coffee. It is cold.
     ‘It will destroy us.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Liv loved that painting, Greg. And it
     will eat away ather, the fact that I’m … responsible
     for taking it from her. Maybe not now, maybe not even in a year or two. But it will
     happen.’
    Greg leans back against the kitchen unit.
     ‘She could say the same about your job.’
    ‘I’m okay about the job. It was
     time I got out of that place.’
    ‘And Liv said she was okay with the
     painting.’
    ‘Yeah. But she’s backed into a
     corner.’ When Greg shakes his head in frustration, he leans forward over his
     files. ‘I know how things can change, Greg, how the things you swear won’t
     bother you at the start can eat away at the good stuff.’
    ‘But –’
    ‘And I know how losing the things you
     love can