The Sixth Lamentation (32 page)

They
all sat in the front room. Doctor Scott, the Senior Social Worker, a Regional
Care Adviser from the Motor Neurone Disease Association, Freddie, Susan, Lucy
and Wilma.

‘The
reason why we’re all here,’ said Pam from Social Services, ‘is to discuss Agnes’
future.’

‘She
hasn’t got one, ‘ said Wilma.

Pam
blinked uncomfortably ‘We need to coordinate a care plan, to make sure Agnes is
empowered to face the future in her own way

Doctor
Scott winced. Freddie didn’t like it either, although probably for different
reasons. He had his own scheme and Lucy saw it at once, before he spilled out
his demands. He wanted professionals in (and, by implication, Wilma out). He
wanted volunteer visitors from the MND Association to come round every day He
wanted equipment loaned or bought. Anything and everything that would clean up
the messiness of dying, although that word was studiously avoided. Freddie
preferred to use convoluted expressions which, by their abstraction, focused
all the more sharply on the reality he could not bring himself to name.

A
potential structure of care (Pam’s phrase) was constructed. Freddie
enthusiastically endorsed all the proposals, perhaps not quite understanding
Pam’s reverent doxology that ‘empowerment was to do with having choices’.

The
package (Pam’s phrase) was taken through to Agnes. She listened as Pam
explained the options, Freddie making confirmatory interjections as she went
along. When she’d finished, Agnes nodded towards her bedside table. Wilma
fetched the alphabet card.

T-H-A-N-K-.Y-O-U

Pause.

V-E-R-Y

Pause.

M-U-C-H

Longer
pause.

I

Pause.

O-N-L-Y

Pause.

W-A-N-T

Pause.

W-I-L-M-A

Freddie
embarked upon an appeal for sense to prevail until professionally disengaged by
Pam using low-key techniques. Back in the sitting room, she translated what ‘empowerment
for choice’ actually meant. Exasperated, but in control, Pam said, ‘It’s her
death, not yours. Let her go in her own way’ She was unrelenting and
mercilessly firm.

Freddie,
confused, said, ‘You don’t understand. I just don’t want to see her suffer.’ He
couldn’t stay to discuss it any further. Overwhelmed, lie left brusquely,
blinking quickly to mask the well of tears.

Pam
gave her number to Lucy, saying she could call her at any time, night or day, ‘given
what was to come’.

2

Mr Lachaise was already at
court when Lucy took her seat the next morning. So was Max, who now figured in
her head by his first name, an alarming mental shift that had occurred without
formal approval. Mr Lachaise offered them both a mint. Max took one; Lucy did
not.

Miss
Matthews, the Junior to Mr Penshaw, stood for the first time to ‘take’ a
witness for the Crown. She called Doctor Pierre Vallon, an elderly French
historian now resident in the United States who had previously been based at
the Institut d’Histoire de Temps Présent in Paris. He was slightly stooped,
with a kind, enquiring face. His hands held the witness box as if he were upon
the bridge of a ship. He wore a dark, limp suit and a fat bowtie.

Doctor
Vallon explained that historians were largely divided on almost every question
pertaining to the Occupation. After the armistice with Germany, he said, France
had been divided into two regions: the ‘Occupied Zone’ in the north, under
direct German control, and the Unoccupied Zone in the south which was managed
by the new French government, based at Vichy The latter operated all
governmental institutions in both zones but were obviously subject to their German
masters. And it was at this early point that scholarly opinion began to divide.
The most sensitive issue was participation in the deportation of the Jews.
Crucially (for the purposes of the trial), the key question was whether those
involved knew that the Nazi project was murder on a massive scale. Doctor
Vallon believed that by 1943 many Vichy officials must have known what was
happening in the camps. As for someone in the Defendant’s position, an SS
officer based in Paris, there could be no significant doubt: such a one would
have known precisely what happened to the victims when the freight carriages
reached Auschwitz. SS memoranda expressly referred to the fact that the Jews
were to be exterminated.

At the
conclusion of Doctor Vallon’s Evidence-in-Chief, the court rose for lunch.
Cross-examination would begin at ten past two. Lucy quickly left the building
and paced the streets for an hour. Then she came back to her seat beside Mr
Lachaise, who again offered her a mint. Yes, please, she said.

‘Doctor
Vallon,’ said Mr Bartlett as he stood up, ‘are you familiar with the expression
“strong words”?’

‘Yes.’
He looked puzzled by the curious question, as did the judge, as did the jury.

‘I
suggest it is false. Words are weak. Do you agree?’

‘Possibly;
I don’t follow you.’

Mr
Justice Pollbrook put down his pen, his baleful eyes resting on Mr Bartlett who
said:

‘In the
mouth of one they disclose; in the mouth of another they disguise. Words cannot
resist corruption. Those who hear them can be easily deceived. Do you agree?’

‘Mr
Bartlett,’ interrupted Mr Justice Pollbrook indulgently, ‘are you leading us to
the pleasures of Wittgenstein?’

‘Oh no,
my Lord, I very much doubt if that would assist the jury.’

‘They
already look rather bemused, and I am among their number.’

‘All
will become clear, my Lord, if I may continue.’

‘Please
do.’

‘I’m
most grateful.’

Mr
Bartlett then abruptly changed subject, the previous exchanges left suspended
in the memory as a tidy, distinct cameo. ‘Doctor Vallon, you told my learned
friend that in June 1942 Eichmann summoned his representatives from France,
Belgium and Holland to Berlin in order to plan the deportations. He wanted to
begin with France, is that right?’

‘Yes.
It was to be a grand sweep across Europe, from West to East.’ The academic
leaned forward, a fearless, authoritative stare fixed upon his interrogator.

‘And
there had been a vast influx of Jews into France throughout the thirties, up to
the spring of 1940?’

‘Yes.’

‘Driven
out by Nazi terror?’

‘Yes.’

‘Doctor
Vallon, is it right to say that the parlance of the day distinguished between “Israélites”
and “Juifs”?’

‘Yes.’

“‘Israélite”
was a relatively polite term describing French— born Jews who were “assimilated”?’

‘Correct.’

‘And “Juif”
had a pejorative overtone, referring to foreign-born Jews?’

‘That’s
right.’

‘The
distinction did not exist, of course, in the refined vocabulary of the German
authorities?’

‘Absolutely
not. ‘

‘That
said, would it be right to say Eichmann effectively exploited the distinction
in order to commence his programme of expulsion with as little protest as
possible?’

‘Yes,
although I don’t know if he thought in those terms. He wanted to use the French
administrative machinery in the planned deportations, so he began with the
stateless Jews, the émigrés, knowing that the relevant officials were reluctant
to pay their resettlement cost in France. ‘

‘That
is a most unfortunate turn of phrase in the circumstances …

‘I
meant no—’

‘Of
course, it was innocently used. However, Doctor Vallon, the innocence of
language is a subject to which we shall heavily return.’ Mr Bartlett frowned,
looking at the jury. Then he said, ‘However, let’s stay with the word “resettlement”.
Do you accept that the cooperation of the Vichy authorities relied upon an
understanding that these Jews were being resettled in the East?’

‘That
is too broad a question. At the highest level I don’t think reliance upon an
understanding came into it. Several Vichy officials were openly anti-Semitic,
and for them the removal of Jews from France needed little encouragement or
explanation.

Throughout
the various government departments that carried out the orders, however, there
were obviously shades of opinion and levels of knowledge.’

‘Is it
fair to say that a substantial number of people — officials and members of the
public — were unaware of the killings, and believed that “resettlement” meant
just what it said?’

‘Many
may have done so, yes, but only at the outset.’

‘Subsequently,
did French cooperation, if that is the word, proceed in an untroubled fashion?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘The
general population were appalled by the mass arrests of 1942. Thereafter, State
anti-Semitism, which had prevailed through indifference or agreement, was
gradually undermined by civil resistance. Thus, when Eichmann wanted to move
against the French Jews, the authorities refused, no doubt wary of how the
public might respond. Official capitulation slowed down, under protest, and the
deportation programme floundered. By this stage, rumours of what “resettlement”
meant had begun to trickle through. Thousands went into hiding. By the end of
the war there were still two hundred and fifty thousand Jews in France. But the
scale of the killing was horrendous. A quarter of the Jewish population were
murdered.’

‘My
Lord,’ said Mr Bartlett, ‘may I suggest a short break? These are not easy
matters for the jury to hear.’

‘Or
indeed any of us,’ said Mr Justice Pollbrook. ‘Half an hour, ladies and
gentlemen.’

3

Lucy stood with Mr
Lachaise and Max outside the courtroom. Max had his hands thrust deep into his
pockets and was staring at the floor. Mr Lachaise said:

‘What
we are hearing is a prelude to the argument for ignorance. It is
heartbreaking.’

Lucy
glanced at the small man with the ever—gentle manner, still wearing the same
cardigan. Who was he, beyond his name? She dared not ask. In a peculiar way he
frightened her. He spoke with chilling authority.

‘In
1941 Radio Moscow revealed that Soviet Jews were being massacred by advancing
Nazi troops. In 1942 the BBC described large-scale transfers of Polish Jews
from ghettos to camps. Reports of mass extermination in places like Chelimno
got to London in May 1942. The Polish Resistance informed London about the
gassings at Auschwitz in March 1943. You cannot annihilate a people without the
world finding out.’

Max,
with his eyes still fixed on the floor, his shoulders pressed inwards, folding
into himself, suddenly whispered, harshly: ‘The Defendant is my grandfather. I’m
sorry. You can’t possibly want me anywhere near you … or to come to my
studio … I think it’s best if—’

‘I know
exactly who you are,’ said Mr Lachaise in the same dry, authoritative voice. ‘And
I want to see your paintings.’

The
usher pushed open the door to the court and called everyone back. Mr Lachaise
took Max by the arm and Lucy followed.

4

Within
minutes Mr Bartlett had referred to the reports of killing described to Lucy
during the adjournment, some of which had not been publicised at the time of
receipt. He then said: ‘As regards the population in France, they may have come
across non-specific rumours that some people would not have believed?’

‘Unfortunately’

‘For
the rumours were incredible?’ ‘That is part of the tragedy Yes.’

‘Reasonably
rejected by any right-minded person?’

‘Not
quite, Mr Bartlett. You appear to have missed the point I made before.
Cooperation floundered because there were others who
did
believe the
rumours.

‘But
you do accept there was room for both positions —acceptance and rejection.’

‘Of
course.

Mr
Bartlett stopped asking questions. Lucy sensed the turning of a lens, a
movement away from the last words to a sharpening of focus on what was about to
come next. He said: ‘Would you credit Mr Schwermann with the same beliefs and
suspicions as a French policeman aged twenty-three based in Paris?’

Doctor
Vallon all but laughed. ‘The proposition is offensive. He was part of the
machinery. He had daily contact with Eichmann in Berlin.’

‘There
is no room for doubt?’

‘In my
view, no.’

‘None
whatsoever?’

‘None.’

Lucy
felt deep unease. Doctor Vallon was only saying what Mr Bartlett expected him
to say

Mr
Bartlett said, ‘Would you be so kind as to consider Volume Seven, section A,
page two.’

Doctor
Vallon was handed a ring-binder. He found the page and gave a nod of
recognition.