Little Black Book

It would’ve been in February when I went on the run. I’d say mid February putting me, newly residing in Le Havre, Normandy, France, in the dead of winter. Funny to think that going back two months to the end of December I was still in Australia, up at 6:30am trying to beat the heat for a morning run. Never thought I’d say I’d miss the 45 degree days. This morning was especially cold. The early hours had brought on gale force winds and a thunderstorm that sounded extremely close to my home. Being in a rural area you wont be surprised that my power went out. It wasn’t until later the same morning my power came about along with a light dusting of snow. Quite pleasant in comparison to the hours beforehand. The change in the day had me feeling like going for a run. It was about 5 or so minutes on my regular run that I realised a massive tree had fallen on the road I usually took. Not only that, the road was flooded. Unable to continue on my normal route I went the way the detour signs pointed. Another 10 minutes on, there was a small track that led off from the road which quickly split into two tracks. Not having gone this way before I chose the left track which seemed to be the more cleared of the two. I had been running another 10 minutes I’d say, when the track opened up to a massive clearing which I could then see beyond. I noticed fields with gentle rolling hills and tufts of bush here and there. I continue in the direction of the clearing and then ran along the broken fence line that traced what would’ve been the boundaries of these neglected properties. The fence line led me to quite a large group of trees which then joined up with more bush land. I began walking, puffed out and feeling somewhat asthmatic so I lent against one of the trees and had a few draws of my inhaler. As I returned to a steady pattern of breathing I saw a small shack looking building through these trees. I walked closer, curious as to what it was. Getting closer it seemed like an old storage shack and had very old rotted wooden logs stacked in a corner, under a little cover. Next to the stack was an opening I had to duck to get under. In this little space was a small desk that lent on probably a 70 degree angle. I opened the draw of this desk to find four pencils and some pieces of charcoal. One of the pencils were blunt and I picked it up to notice the initials O.M etched into the end. I was intrigued to know how old this was and who it belonged to, the size of the desk suggested a child might’ve played here. I turned back around ready to head back the way I had came when I noticed a small shelf on the wall. Continuing out the same way I noticed the ground underneath my right foot was uneven, enough to notice. And thank god I did. I kicked away the twigs and dirt under my feet to uncover a little corner of something. Which when I pulled out of the ground turned out to be a little black book. Well more brown at the time. I dusted off what I could from the book, but there was nothing on the cover. I turned it to see some fine cursive print which I could just make out. ‘Le Havre Secondary School of Arts’ it read. Below the cursive print was handwriting reading ‘pour Oscar-Claude’. I quickly flicked through the pages of the book, most of it was weathered and only some could be made out as drawings of landscapes. Further intrigued by what I had found I decided to grab each of the pencils and the book and head back home. I wasn’t expecting it to be much. Really just interested to see whether I could find who might’ve lived there years ago. I managed to get in touch with an elderly man who was well educated in the history of the town of Le Havre. I asked whether he might have access to any documents from the school or anything linked to the property where I’d been but he said his knowledge was mostly from an interest in the town and didn’t have anything that would help me. I decided to turn to the internet for this one. All I had to do was type in Le Havre Secondary School of Arts in the search bar. I wasn’t expecting much. Little did I know what I was about to land. Being new to France and speaking French, I scrolled past a few articles I could not decipher. I then saw a familiar looking artwork. It was a piece from Monet. Dumb me obviously not having figured it out yet, I kept scrolling and saw multiple more articles naming Monet and telling of him attending the school. Looking back to it I still wonder why it didn’t click sooner. I went off on a tangent and just started looking at some of Monet’s work and remembering the work I had done in art class back in high school. One link led to a Wikipedia page on his Monet’s life. Not even 2 seconds on this page and I read ‘Oscar-Claude Monet’ out loud. In disbelief I hid the tab then opened it up again. ‘Oscar-Claud Monet’ it read. I quickly ran to my lounge where I had left the book and hastily flipped it open. Once again ‘Oscar-Claud.’ I then recalled from my classes in school that Monet was quite gifted with charcoal. That explained the charcoal in the draw. Ecstatic, I got back in touch with the man from before and told him what I’d figured out. He told me not to tell anyone and to have it assessed to be sure of what I’d found. Following that day was a pretty much sleepless night, anticipating what the next day would bring. Early the next morning I was up and ready to travel two and a half hours to Musée du Louvre, where I would get my findings looked at. I had met with two people that morning who had taken the items into a room in which I was not allowed. About 2 hours I would’ve been wondering the museum, when I was brought back to the place I handed over the book and pencils. They led me into the room where they had been which was now filled with much more than two people. Walking in, I was showered in applauses which only confirmed my discoveries from the day before. My smile could not be contained along with a few tears. I had someone speak with me about everything they’d just looked into and confirmed. I then had another lady join the conversation which led to me being offered 1.2 million dollars for my findings. To this day I still can’t believe all this came from a run after a storm. I’m forever thankful that it did. For those who are interested, the desk now sits (still on a 70 degree angle) in the Musée du Louvre with it’s draw open showing the charcoal and the pencils. The little black book is displayed above it.