Feted for his charisma, his humanism.
He charges the rich more, and the poor less.
It’s said that he’s looked after some passing celebrities.
Errol Flynn, Martine Carol, even Edith Piaf.
He cared for Ottilie after her car accident.
That was in the early 1930s.
Since then, they have grown very close.
So the American lady turns to him.
Would he try to save Charlotte’s grandmother?
…
And so the doctor comes to the Ermitage.
Charlotte greets him and leads him to the old lady’s bedside.
What is his first impression, when he meets her?
Impossible to know.
All the same, I will try to seize that moment.
It seems so crucial to me.
The entrance of Dr. Moridis in the story.
This man will prove very important for Charlotte.
I try to see him in the garden.
In the photographs that his daughter showed me, he looks huge.
I imagine the children lifting their heads to stare up at him.
5
When he emerges from the room, he talks about depression.
The grandmother says constantly that the world is going to burn.
She can’t stand it anymore, she doesn’t want to continue living.
It is time for her to rejoin her two daughters.
Her two daughters, her two daughters, she repeats.
Before adding: it’s all my fault.
Moridis prescribes tranquilizers.
He also insists: she must be watched day and night.
Never leave her alone.
Charlotte understands that this will be her role.
Who else could do it?
Her grandfather is a broken man.
He watches his wife struggling from afar.
And anyway, this is why Charlotte is here.
She came to look after them.
There has to be a price for finding refuge.
This is what he thinks under his long white beard.
Moridis wishes Charlotte bon courage.
As he’s about to leave the house, he mentions her drawings.
I’ve heard, mademoiselle, that you are immensely talented.
News travels fast here.
They’re just sketches, she stammers.
Drawings for children.
So what?
I would be interested in seeing what you do.
Charlotte is touched by his kindness.
She watches him go, toward other patients, other stories.
Charlotte is aware of the gravity of the situation.
She thinks they must create a sort of electroshock.
In her opinion, they should leave the Ermitage.
Her grandparents have been dependent on Ottilie for too long.
Little by little, they have lost their independence.
Relations with their benefactress are deteriorating.
The situation is becoming oppressive.
Isn’t it always that way?
We end up hating those who give us everything.
Financially, leaving is possible.
They still have a little money.
When they left Germany in 1933, they were able to sell their belongings.
Charlotte goes to Nice, in search of a place to live.
She finds it on Avenue Neuscheller, at number 2.
A house with a name: Villa Eugénie.
…
Ottilie also thinks it will do them good.
She admits that relations between them have been cooler for months.
She asks Charlotte to come see her, as often as possible.
To let her know how they are, and to paint in the garden too.
You mustn’t forget to live for yourself, adds Ottilie.
To live for myself, Charlotte repeats to herself.
The day of the move, they pass some soldiers.
These are the last ones to head east.
The region has been emptied of its men.
The soldiers are waiting for a conflict that doesn’t come.
Is this it, then, the much-heralded apocalypse?
Snow begins to fall, and all is calm.
You could almost forget that war has been declared.
Inside the house, the chaos starts more quickly.
The move has not changed anything.
The grandmother spends her hours on the edge of a precipice.
Rare are those moments when she finds a little respite.
Her desire is still to die.
Charlotte drew her during this period.
In the sketches, she is horribly thin.
Wrapped up in herself, as if to hide her body.
On the other hand, there are no drawings of the grandfather.
Lost, isolated from everyone, he is infernal.
He remembers the first years in Nice.
Everything was wonderful then.
He enrolled in the university and made some good friends.
What is left to him now?
Nothing.
His wife is crazy, the country is at war.
And he misses Germany so much.
This makes him irascible, abrupt, domineering.
He is constantly giving orders to Charlotte.
Without really knowing why.
He is like the general of a ghost army.
6
Charlotte has not heard from her family for months.
The silence is unbearable.
At last, she receives a letter from her father and Paula.
Ottilie brings it to her in Nice.
Immediately she scans it in search of a name: Alfred.
Maybe they will mention him?
Maybe she will find out how he is?
That is what matters most to her.
But no.
There’s nothing.
No Alfred.
She reads the letter again.
He might be hiding between the commas.
No.
No, he isn’t mentioned.
Nothing about him at all.
She doesn’t know where he is.
Is he even alive?
So she takes the time to read the letter properly.
Paula wrote it.
She describes the last few months.
They wanted to join her in France, but it’s become impossible.
An influential friend was able to provide them with fake papers.
They took a plane with him to Amsterdam.
They left everything behind.
They arrived in Holland empty-handed.
Thankfully, some of their friends were already there.
It’s like a little Berlin family reunited far from home.
Paula tries not to mention their distress.
But Charlotte is able to read between the lines.
She sees her father, in a daze.
Resolving to flee like a criminal.
Terrified at every second.
The fear of arrest, of prison, of death.
In the camp, he saw the way they killed anyone who happened to pass by.
Charlotte has always known her father as a powerful man.
And her stepmother haloed in glory.
Do they feel relieved, at least?
And for how long?
At least they’re together, thinks Charlotte.
How she wishes she could join them.
Her freedom no longer has any value in her eyes.
To her, surviving like this seems worse than anything.
The letter begins to cause her pain.
The words underline what she is missing.
It is the physical proof of her exclusion.
Her grandmother shows no interest in the missive.
She hears a few snatches of it.
And focuses on their flight, the fake papers.
They are go
ing to die soon! she cries out suddenly.
You’re completely crazy! her husband yells angrily.
Charlotte finds herself between the two of them.
She asks her grandfather to leave the room.
Charlotte tries to calm the old woman.
As she spouts her macabre prophecies.
They’re going to die!
We’re all going to die!
Charlotte speaks softly.
The way you might speak to a child who’s woken from a nightmare.
Everything will be all right … they’re far from the catastrophe now.
But she doesn’t want to hear any of this.
Death is everywhere!
Everywhere!
We must die before death takes us!
She mutters a series of incomprehensible phrases.
Then gradually calms down.
Her insanity manifests itself in urges.
Chaotic comings and goings.
Exhausted by her excesses, she finally falls asleep.
Sleep is the only place where she seems protected from herself.
7
In the weeks that follow, Charlotte receives other letters.
These are the last instants of her family ties.
We are now in 1940.
War was declared almost six months ago.
It is still going on in silence.
The only sound is of something falling, in the bathroom.
Charlotte rushes over to see what’s happened.
Her grandmother has locked herself in.
Charlotte bangs on the door, begs her to open it.
But there is nothing: no reaction at all.
She hears a series of gasps.
The spaces in between grow longer, the sounds less audible.
Charlotte screams.
Finally, she manages to force open the door.
Her grandmother is hanging from the end of a rope.
Charlotte only just manages to save her.
She grabs hold of the body and the two of them fall.
Then the grandfather arrives.
As usual, he yells.
What are you doing?
You have no right!
You have no right to leave us like that!
And what about you, Charlotte?!
What were you doing?!
You must be crazy to leave her alone like that!
If she dies, it will be your fault!
You are really not to be trusted, you imbecile!
Charlotte ignores these cutting words.
She has to lay her grandmother down on the bed: that is the priority.
She looks like she’s unconscious, but she sits up.
And touches her neck with her fingers.
Charlotte stares at the mark left by the strangulation.
A vivid red circle.
Red that is now turning bluish black.
The grandmother walks toward the bedroom.
Pushing away Charlotte, who tries to help her.
You should have let me die, she says.
Charlotte replies tearfully: you’re all I have.
8
For days on end, she watches over her grandmother.
Never leaves her alone.
Charlotte opens the bedroom shutters wide.
She tells her about the sky, the beauty of the sky.
Look, look at that clear blue.
Yes, says the grandmother.
And look at the flowering trees too.
The colors that are like promises.
Soon, we’ll go for a walk by the sea.
Promise me we’ll go, Charlotte begs her.
Her words are soothing, a softness that heals the wounds.
She holds her hand.
The grandfather is outraged by these moments of consolation.
He can’t stand it anymore, but what exactly?
Charlotte does not understand him.
He paces excitedly about the room.
As if he can’t contain his rage anymore.
And that’s exactly what it is.
He talks to Charlotte in a crazy monologue.
I can’t stand any more of these suicides!
I can’t stand it anymore, do you hear?!
There was your grandmother’s mother.
She tried to kill herself every day.
Every day, yes, for eight years!
And then, there was her brother.
People said he was unhappy because of his marriage.
But I could see that the madness had gotten hold of him.
He would start laughing for no apparent reason.
Your grandmother was so sad.
I would go to see him, the madman of the family, as people called him.
Until the day when he threw himself in the water.
And his only daughter killed herself with barbiturates!
With barbiturates!
For no reason whatsoever.
And then there’s her uncle, let’s not forget him!
Yes, your grandmother’s uncle.
He threw himself out of the window!
And her sister … and her sister’s husband!
Oh, I don’t know anymore.
It’s everywhere, everywhere.
I can’t stand it anymore!
You understand?!
And her nephew too, more recently.
The only survivor of the family; you didn’t know him.
But he lost his job in the laboratory, like all the Jews.
So he killed himself …
Suicide is a death I wouldn’t wish on my enemy!
Poor guy: I remember him.
He was so kind.
Never raised his voice.
And now he’s rotting in a cemetery.
He’s nothing but a pile of bones now!
…
And our daughters!
Our daughters!
…
You hear me?!
Our daughters!
…
Your aunt Charlotte.
My beloved girl.
Oh, I loved her so much.
She used to follow me around everywhere.
She was like my shadow.
She listened to me.
She would play at being a Greek statue, to please me.
And then.
Nothing.
All gone.
She threw herself in the river, at eighteen.
Just like that.
I couldn’t.
We couldn’t go to the funeral.
Or maybe they should have buried us too.
Your grandmother and me, we’ve been dead ever since.
And your mother.
She suffered so much.
Do you even realize?
It was her darling sister.
They were inseparable.
People used to compare them all the time.
Like they were two versions of the same girl.
She was devastated.
But it wasn’t obvious.
She did all she could to be strong.
She redoubled her efforts.
For us, she played at being two girls at the same time.
Your mother was such a kind person.
She would sing in the evenings.
So solemn, and so beautiful.
And then, she married your father.
With his obsession for medicine.
Thankfully, you arrived.
A child: that’s supposed to be what life is about.
My granddaughter.
You.
Charlotte.
The grandfather stops speaking for a moment.
His last words were spoken more softly.
Not all tragedies can be screamed out loud.
He looks Charlotte in the eye.
Once again, he starts to raise his voice.
It grows louder and louder.
You …
You … Charlotte!
CH
ARLOTTE!
You were such a beautiful baby.
So, why?
Why?
Your mother was all we had left.
Your mother, and you.
It wasn’t possible to do that.
Everyone is killing themselves, but not your mother.
She couldn’t.
It wasn’t possible.
She threw herself out of the window.
In our house!
Do you hear me?!
And you, you were there, afterward.
It was painful to look at you.
We would turn away so we wouldn’t have to see you.
I remember your face.
You were always waiting for her to return.
You used to watch the sky.
She had told you that she was going to be an angel.
But no.
She was caught by the demon.
And she killed herself.
Yes, your mother too.
And your grandmother … why?
She doesn’t want to live anymore.
But what about me?
Does she ever think of me?
What will become of me?
Do you hear me?!
I can’t stand it anymore.
No, I can’t stand it.
Not anymore.
…
9
Charlotte runs off.
She doesn’t listen to her grandfather’s last words.
He is still yelling, begging her to stay.
She hurtles down Avenue Neuscheller.
Until reaching the junction with the tulips.
Where should she go?
She doesn’t know.
She runs until she’s out of breath.
Toward the sea.
It’s the sole possible destination.
The only place she can go without seeing another human being.
She runs across the beach.
Enters the cold February sea, fully dressed.
She moves forward quickly.
Knees, waist, shoulders disappear.
She is not a good swimmer.
A few more yards, and she could let herself go.
Her wet clothes grow heavy.
Pull her into the depths.
The waves crash over her.
She swallows saltwater.
Eyes to the sky, she glimpses a face.
Her mother’s.
Is it finally the long-awaited angel?
Appearing with such precision.
Is she going to die?
She drifts, and memories are rekindled.
She sees herself as a child, waiting.
How absurd, that story about the angel.
Rage takes hold of Charlotte.
And propels her toward the shore.
No, she will not die by drowning.
Breathless, exhausted, she lies down on the shingle.
Her entire life is based on a lie.
I hate them, they all betrayed me.
All of them.
All that time.
Everyone knew the truth.
Charlotte Page 10