The Book of Lies (20 page)

‘Bloody typical,' Michael mumbled. ‘They buy a house, spend a fortune doing it up and then bugger off to Monaco. Half the houses on Fort George are empty. Tax status, my arse.'

I told Michael it was probably about time Donnie got his tan more realistic. I mean, if he has houses all over the world why should he stay here for winter?

‘He won't be back.'

I felt a bit let down, and then a bit itchy. It had just stopped drizzling and there were midges all over us. Michael grabbed at one, then pulled his fist into his chest to take a closer look.

‘I was meant to go with him.'

I watched as he rubbed his fingers together.

‘That's what he promised. He said he had a job for me. I was going to help him manage his properties.'

I tried to work out if I should be happy or sad – I couldn't.

‘That's amazing!'

Michael stared up at the trees.

‘It won't happen now. Get a chance and I blow it. There's a fucking self-destruct button hardwired into my brain. I'll never get away. I'm a liability, a fucking waste of space like everyone says.'

I felt really sorry for him and gave him a nudge. Perhaps too hard because he staggered forward.

‘You could still find Donnie if you wanted to. He's not been gone long and he could've left a forwarding address at the Guernsey Post Office.'

Michael shrugged. ‘I'm not going to break my neck.' Then he grinned like that was a joke.

I smiled back and he shoved his hands in his pockets and carried on squelching up the path. I tried to loop my arm through his, but that made his limp more obvious.

We'd walked a short way before I realised Michael was watching me out of the corner of his eye.

‘You didn't know he was going?'

‘No,' I said quickly, shivering in the cold. ‘Why would I?' Then I remembered a few things. ‘But . . .'

Michael faltered. ‘But
what
?'

We were now moving slower than two snails on crutches. I wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was getting stuck in the mud.

I stopped and turned to face him. ‘I did see Donnie quite a bit.'

‘Yeah?'

I nodded. ‘When things were getting tricky between me and Nic I'd go there on the weekends. He needed help with the garden.'

Michael raised his luscious eyebrow(s).

‘Course he did.'

‘He talked about you all the time. He knew you'd pull through. He said you reminded him of how he used to be as a teenager.'

Michael made a little snorting noise.

‘He likes teenagers, or hadn't you noticed?'

I thought this was a stupid thing to say. Of course I'd noticed. Headline News: I Am Not An Idiot! But I'd always felt sorry for Donnie: he was lonely and no proper adults would talk to him. He told me often enough that he had no family of his own. He regretted this, most definitely, and having young people around made him feel young. Personally, I never really noticed the age difference. Mum was fifteen years younger than Dad, and nobody ever said anything bad about that (within my earshot).

But Michael was looking so sly/smug, like he knew something I didn't.

‘Did Donnie tell you anything else?'

I was totally stuck in those pools-of-treacle eyes.

‘Is this an official interrogation or am I allowed a phone call?'

For the (police) record, my friendship with Donnie was always totally innocent. I liked spending time with him. He made fresh lemonade and had big deckchairs to sit on. That's it, I swear. Well, that's not entirely it. Nic was always with Lisa and I needed somewhere/one to escape to. I was tired of competing with Lisa or Pete or whoever else came along. Plus, Nic had gone and got herself a part-time job at Etam. Mum said I was too young to work so Donnie gave me a bit of money to help him with the weeding. Most of the time I'd just sit in the kitchen and watch him clean. He had a house-keeper but he still loved to clean. He'd dismantle his yogurt-maker or Magimix or SodaStream and line up all its parts under the window and check how it gleamed in the sunlight. Then he'd sit me on one of his high stools and tidy his fridge and say things like ‘Fat is a State of Mind' and ‘The Universe has an Order'. We'd talk about Fate and Karma and Life-after-Death, and have all sorts of intellectual-style debates.

It was a very meaningful time for me. We talked a lot about Michael but we also talked about Dad. Donnie had never met Dad so he was interested to hear about his wide-ranging achievements/obsessions. I even showed him my press-cuttings file, which included the article about Dad's (Un)Official Occupation Memorial. Of course the photo's no good because Dad's hiding his bad hand and squinting. Donnie joked that Dad looked like a war veteran himself, but Dad was just a baby in the War and, like Mum said, age didn't matter.

Nic knew I went to see Donnie because I didn't try to keep it a secret. I also wanted to show her that I had other friends. I told her about his wine cellar and video library, and fitness studio with its instruments of torture. I wasn't trying to make her jealous but I (sort of) hoped she was. I thought it was funny that she'd be stuck in a shop all summer whereas I was going to get paid for having fun.

But I need to make it clear that I never invited Nic over. I'm sure I never did. And if I did, well, I didn't mean to. Honestly and truthfully, it was the last thing I expected when she came barging through the door. It was a Saturday afternoon so she should've been working.

‘Hope I'm not interrupting,' she smiled.

I was gob-smacked, as was Donnie, who eyed her rah-rah skirt and said nothing.

‘So! What are you two up to? Got anything good open? Come on, Golden Boy. You going to get us drunk?'

I felt so embarrassed. I didn't want Donnie to think I'd been telling tales about him.

I asked Nic what she was doing here.

‘I missed you, that's all. Can't I stay?' She turned back to Donnie. ‘You wouldn't mind, would you?'

Donnie shook his head. ‘Of course I wouldn't. It's nice to see you again.'

His tone was very clipped and formal.

Nic wandered around the kitchen, picking up various utensils and putting them down in all the wrong places. ‘It's a great pad. Perfect for a party.' She parked herself on a bar stool and started swivelling round. ‘I really enjoyed the
last
one. When was that?'

Donnie smiled. ‘If I have another you'll be the first to know about it.'

‘We could have one now!' Nic stopped spinning and stared at him. ‘We could have cocktails
.
'

He nodded. ‘Help yourself. I'm sure you remember where everything is.' His voice tailed off, and Nic lowered herself onto his lino and sauntered towards the door.

Once she was in the hall I told Donnie how sorry I was and crossed-my-heart that I'd never invited her over.

‘Don't fret.' He tilted his head back and rolled his eyes skywards. ‘Nicolette is hardly a girl one needs to
ask
.'

Before we could say anything else Nic had waltzed back in, twirling a little paper parasol between her fingers. She pointed the parasol at Donnie and speared him in the chest.

‘I need you to come and help. I can't decide what to have and you're much better at
mixing
things than me.'

Donnie looked at me. ‘Would you like that?'

I shrugged but also nodded.

Pretty soon we were back in the kitchen with various coloured potions and three types of rum. Donnie started chopping up strawberries and Nic and I sat there, eyeing each other. But after the first cocktail we relaxed, and after the second we were laughing. I suppose half of me was glad she was there. I thought it meant she cared. Then we started playing this game where Donnie would invent a cocktail that we'd have to name. I'll admit it was a lot of fun. Nic told Donnie that he made the best cocktails ever and he was really pleased.

‘You know,' he said, ‘this is
better
than a party because I haven't had to invite my tedious neighbours when I know they'll never ask me anywhere!'

Nic knocked back her drink. ‘It's nice for us to have some grown-up company, too. I can see why Cat likes you so much, but you probably know she's got a thing for older men.'

That sobered me up a bit.

‘Don't be
shy
,' Nic giggled. ‘Donnie approves, don't you, Donnie? It's like you once said to me, girls mature quicker than boys so it's only right we don't waste time on them.'

Donnie was crushing ice for our Fruity-Booty-Transgender-Sex-Fiend.

‘You are both very mature for your age. Did I really say that about boys and girls? I'm no expert. All I know is everyone's different and they should take their time doing whatever it is they choose to do.'

Nic stood up and leaned over the breakfast bar.

‘You're so wise. We could learn a lot from you, couldn't we?'

Donnie stopped.

‘I don't think you two girls need any help from me.

I'm past it, wouldn't you say?' He winked at me. ‘Trust me, that ship has sailed.'

I focused on the polished lino floor and waited for it to swallow me. Nic told Donnie he wasn't that old but he promised her he was.

‘You wait till you hear my taste in music. I'll put on some music, shall I?' He headed for the sitting room. ‘I've got this new stereo from De Gruchy's and they fixed speakers in every room. The whole house vibrates!'

Whilst he was out of the room I told Nic not to be such an embarrassment.

She laughed as per usual. ‘What? You afraid I'll tell Donnie your dirty secrets? Don't tell me you've got a crush on him as well!'

I didn't have any kind of crush on Donnie but I was worried Nic would go and mention Mr McCracken. That was the last thing I needed. My grades were back on track and I was trying really hard again, and because I'd dented the front wheel of my bicycle I was relying on Mr McCracken to give me lifts home from school. Of course, whenever Nic saw us together she pushed her tongue against her cheek, which was really quite revolting. I kept hoping Mr McCracken would give her a proper telling-off. At least now I know why he couldn't. It turns out no one is quite who you think they are.

Even Donnie. I can still see him trying to set the volume on his remote control with Nic wiggling her hips all around him. He was obviously distracted – he preferred sitting down and listening to music properly. We'd already done alternate weekends of Jazz and Blues music, and I had enjoyed sitting in Donnie's greenhouse and discussing the difference between ‘form' and ‘content'. It's a fascinating fact that even though the Blues consists of old men singing about dead dogs or wives, it can still sound remarkably upbeat.

Donnie and I had never danced together before, so I felt a bit awkward when he started shaking himself. Then, very quickly, Nic guided Donnie's hands onto her waist and made him dance with her. But he wasn't very good at it. He kept kicking his legs out at right angles for no obvious reason, then he pulled away and started twirling his hands in the air and pretending to beat an invisible drum. He didn't embarrass easily so I blushed for him. Nic was too busy concentrating on her own routine to notice. She drifted down the corridor and into the sitting room.

‘
Come on!'

Donnie clapped and did a twist manoeuvre and looked so ridiculous that I had to laugh. We were North Show prize turnips but it was good not to care, and the fact that Donnie was waving his hands all over the shop made me feel a hundred times better. We twisted into the sitting room where Nic was and then jumped between the sofas. Donnie and I kept watching Nic and smiling to each other, and at one point Donnie jumped off his sofa and onto mine. He grabbed my hand and rocked me back and forth, and I imagined we were in
Grease: The Movie
. I did a twirl and landed on the floor.

Nic had always told me that dancing was like sex.

She said that if someone was a bad dancer, the chances are they'd be rubbish in bed. Donnie and I were enthusiastically rubbish, and Nic danced like she was having sex already. She was throwing herself at Donnie, grabbing his hands and pushing them against her bottom.

She wanted him to knead her like bread dough. I didn't know where to look. Donnie was sweating a lot and getting red in the face, and his eyes went glassy like they were sweating, too. It scared me, if I'm honest.

Nic was grinding herself against him and lifting up her hair, and then she started to unbutton his shirt. She was smiling as she looked at me.

I hated seeing Nic like this and I didn't understand it. I mean, no offence to Donnie, but the man wasn't exactly a Greek Adonis, and even if his teeth had new crowns the rest of him was massively older than Mr McCracken.

Nic grabbed my hand and pulled me over to him, like she wanted to watch us dance together. She manoeuvred

herself behind me and pushed me closer and closer. I pretended not to mind being caught in this human sandwich, but I could see Donnie's hairless chest plus one nipple. Then he took both my hands and tried to pull me down onto the sofa. I dug my heels into the carpet.

He smiled a little pleadingly. I shook my head. He sank back onto the sofa and Nic was suddenly in front of me, leaning over him. They'd started kissing and I watched his hand move up her skirt. The music carried on and I stood there, not really believing what was happening.

‘
Fuck!
' said Michael
.

(Yes, I was telling Michael all of this.)

‘Fuck
– that's mental!'

He stared at the ground and called it ‘Jesus'. He was obviously impressed by my Compulsive Tale-Telling.

We were walking up through the Village and had nearly reached his house but he had to stop and swear a lot.

‘Nic and Donnie? That is fucked-up. But I shouldn't be surprised.'