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 an awful lot to the artist’s wife. It also tells us pretty conclusively that a German Kommandant had 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, an aficionado.’ 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 QC, 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 the Kommandant took 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, or take 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 behaviour because it is our contention that The Girl You Left Behind was 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 Honour, 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. 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.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she says. They are both looking at her expectantly.

Silver finishes her mouthful before she speaks. ‘Well, if she was disgraced, doesn’t that suggest her relationship with the Kommandant might have been consensual? The thing is, if we can prove that it was, if we can suggest that she was having an extra-marital affair with a German soldier, we can also claim the portrait might have been a gift. It wouldn’t be beyond the realms of possibility that someone in the throes of a love affair would give her lover a portrait of herself.’

‘But Sophie wouldn’t,’ Liv says.

‘We don’t know that,’ says Henry. ‘You told me that after her disappearance the family never spoke of her again. Surely if she was blameless, they would have wanted to remember her. Instead she seems to be cloaked in some sort of shame.’

‘I don’t think she could have had a consensual relationship with the Kommandant. Look at this postcard.’ Liv reopens her file. ‘“You are my lodestar in this world of madness.” That’s three months before she is supposed to have had this “collaboration”. It hardly sounds like a husband and wife who don’t love each other, does it?’

‘That’s certainly a husband who loves his wife, yes,’ says Henry. ‘But we have no idea whether she returned that love. She could have been madly in love with a German soldier at this time. She could have been lonely or misguided. Just because she loved her husband, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t capable of falling in love with someone else once he’d gone away.’

Liv pushes her hair back from her face. ‘It feels horrible,’ she says, ‘like blackening her name.’

‘Her name is already blackened. Her family don’t have a decent word to say about her.’

‘I don’t want to use her nephew’s words against her,’ she says. ‘He’s the only one who seems to care about her. I’m just – I’m just not convinced we’ve got the full story.’