The Book of Lies (31 page)

He blinked. ‘What?'

I didn't stop to think about what I was saying. ‘If you're going then I'm going. I've got to get away, as well. You don't know what I've done but I can't stay here any more than you can.'

Michael looked me up and down and inside out.

‘What have you done?'

I had to give in. I had to.

‘Can't you guess?'

Michael looked melt-in-the-mouth gorgeous.

‘What?'

There was another pin-drop moment.

‘I'll only tell you if you agree to take me with you.'

He hesitated. ‘You got any money? There's a ferry at
9
.
30
tomorrow night. Last one before Christmas.'

‘I'll meet you at the entrance to Fort George at
8
. We'll take the cliff path down to Town.'

Michael was staring intently. ‘Why the cliff path?'

‘We should stay off the main road,' I said, standing up, ‘and if you want me to tell you what I've done I may as well show you while I'm at it.'

I don't know if he understood, but the way he looked at me made me turn to jelly so I had to leg it out of there. And now I'm just so excited. I feel amazing. I'll take him to where I killed Nic and tell him the truth, and then I'll never have to tell anyone ever-ever again. It's going to be my big confession for one night only. I'll have to write it down, just so I don't miss anything out. Yes, that's it. I'll prepare a speech.

Property of Emile Philippe Rozier

Handwritten notes, presumably intended for E.P.R.'s speech at Occupation Memorial unveiling ceremony [Transcribed by Catherine Rozier,
20
/
11
/
85
]

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bailiff,

My name is Emile Rozier and I have a confession. I have built up something of a reputation as an expert on our German Occupation, but today, standing before you, I am a man who knows nothing.

I was only a child during the War, so I personally remember very little about it, yet I have spent my life trying to compensate for that fact. I, like many of you here today, have been told every kind of Occupation story, stories that show the resilience of islanders in the face of the enemy, stories that tell of heartbreak and hardship, and still other stories that tell of betrayal, wrongful accusations and even death. We hear so many different stories that it is hard to believe they were once based on single, simple fact.

The German Occupation was not marked by bloody conflict, but its History has been quite another matter. For many years there was silence, when people preferred not to share their troubled memories of that time. More recently our States Tourist Board has done an excellent job of packaging it into a kind of light entertainment for outsiders.

My hope has always been that the names on this memorial will prove more solid and immovable than popular opinion and marketing campaigns.

These names listed here are our names. They should ground us and remind us that we have nothing to be ashamed of. My father, Hubert Rozier, is included. He was shot by German soldiers in
1942
. He was only guilty of continuing the work that he loved. My brother, Charles Rozier, was arrested for collecting information about the German fortifications. He was deported and imprisoned. The loss and suffering within my own family only made me more determined to set the record straight. But the desire to uncover deception can be self-deceiving.

For many years my brother thought he was betrayed by a person in his confidence. In fact, that is the fate that befell
me
. The past has foretold the future in a way even I could not have expected.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bailiff,

I'm deeply moved to stand here today and see this memorial unveiled. It is proof of the trials and tribulations of some very brave individuals who stood up to the Nazi occupier. Not everyone was so brave, however, and there are some who resorted to a lifetime of lies. Despite their denials we cannot deny them, and so their lies define us. There is one name listed here which should not be.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bailiff,

I have fought a long battle for a true and complete account of the German Occupation. I thought the truth would mean an end to any doubts and uncertainties, but the lies are all that's certain now.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bailiff . . .

24TH DECEMBER 1985
,
5
.
30
a.m.

[In prison (
kidding
)]

I know it's not enough to say something, and if I say it over and over it won't make it better. But. I never planned or meant to kill Nic. I didn't even want her to die, and even after it happened I didn't believe she was really D.E.A.D. I thought I was imagining it, that maybe it was a dream, so I went to bed and tried to wake up. Perhaps it was a bit like that for Mum. She probably saw Dad lying there and assumed he was sleeping off a hangover. Did she think his breathing sounded strange? Did she check he'd taken his insulin? Did she check
how much
?

I suppose it only occurred to her afterwards, when it was too late. We'll never know how much he took.

Remember what Michael said: accidents don't just happen, people make them happen. Dad decided his fate and I decided Nic's. That's the real reason I can't go back to school – I can't face Vicky or Lisa or in fact any of the girls in my class. They'll see straight through me. They knew Nic and I were fighting. They must wonder about it. I suppose they never saw me at the party so they can't imagine how I could be involved.

I should've told the truth from the start, but the truth is slippery, like soap in the bath. Everybody would want to know why I was out on the cliffs after dark, and then they'd think it was too much of a coincidence that Nic turned up as well.

Beaucoup de Bollocks.
Why did I have to go out that night? Why couldn't I stay in and watch bad telly as per usual? Why did I have to sneak over to Vicky's house and spy on that stupid bloody party? Of course that was what Nic wanted, but why did I play into her hands? Well, there
is
(at last) a single, simple answer – I went because of Michael.

It was after six on the night of the party and Mum was out in the garden, weeding or pruning or something. There was a knock at the door and without even thinking I went to answer it. Like I said before, we never lock our doors in Guernsey so Nic was already in the hallway. I walked slowly down the stairs, hoping and praying Mum would come in any minute.

‘What do you want?'

‘Oh, you know,' Nic smiled, ‘I wanted to ask if you were coming to Vicky's. Everyone'll be there. We'll have a laugh.'

I held on tight to the banister. ‘Of course I'm not coming!'

‘That's a shame,' Nic carried on smiling, ‘Michael will be there. Oh well, I'll be able to fill him in on what you've been up to. I'll tell him all about your lies and poor Mr McCracken. What fun that'll be!'

The news that Michael was back hit me like a train. I didn't know if it was true, but it definitely could have been.

‘You're bluffing!'

Nic shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I must say I'm
really
looking forward to seeing him. You know there was always that spark, and I'd like to see if it's still there. Maybe I'll take him out onto the cliffs with me and show him a good time.'

I heard Mum come in from the garden. She was wiping her feet on the doormat in the kitchen.

‘Hello Nicolette,' she called. ‘Haven't seen you for a while. How are you?'

‘I'm fine thanks, Mrs Rozier. I'm just trying to persuade Cat to come to Vicky's party tonight.'

‘Oh? I'd forgotten.' Mum pulled off her gardening gloves. ‘Aren't you going to go, Cathy? You hadn't said anything.'

‘That's because I'm not going. I'm not feeling great and, well, I'm not in the mood.'

Mum looked puzzled. ‘Well, if you're sure.'

‘
Boooo-ring
!' Nic cocked her head to one side and tried to look saccharine-sweet. ‘Oh well, if you change your mind I'm going over there now to help Vicky get ready.'

Mum nodded. ‘I'll try and persuade her.'

But she didn't. We didn't say another word about it. Instead we had dinner on our laps in the sitting room. I watched
Doctor Who
whilst Mum read a library book, and I got the feeling she was glad to have me there. She told me things were ‘getting back to normal' (and she'd bought Arctic Roll for dessert so I knew she meant it). Trouble is, I only pretended to have an early night just like she did, then I was up and out the back door, and crouched in a rhododendron bush by approximately
10
p.m. I'd already been past Vue du Lac five times and found no sign of Michael, so I was
99
.
99
% sure he wasn't back, but I had to go to Vicky's house to check. The Senners' house is at the end of Becquet Road. There's a wide row of bushes facing their driveway so it was dead easy to hide.

There was such a lot of people, sitting out on the front lawn and crowding around the porch. I craned my neck to look for Michael but it was hard to see anything. Poor Vicky – her house was full to bursting. Inside, I could see right into the chaos in the kitchen, and all the lights were on upstairs. Nic was easy to spot in a sparkly mini-dress. She hung around the porch and nibbled at a plastic cup whilst flirting with Paul Kelley. Paul Kelley is two years above us at the Grammar and has spiky blond hair and these excellent trousers mostly made of zips. I wondered what Pete thought of him, but Pete was now with Nikki Guillemette. Everyone knew that.

The music was blaring out so I'm not surprised Mr Le Lacheur next door complained. Pete and Jason told him to get lost. Then some bikers turned up and there was a commotion. At this point I completely lost track of Nic and got cramp in my left toes. It was cold in that rhododendron bush. The next thing I knew, Dr and Mrs Senner had pulled up in their Volvo estate. A girl with half her head shaved was vomiting in their flowerbed. Mrs S. swore loudly. She then ran inside but Dr Senner couldn't. His hand was frozen fast to the car door handle and he stared up at his house like it was an alien spaceship, and with all the house lights blazing it did look pretty alien. Greasy Caz Mitchell staggered up to him, drinking from a bottle of his homebrew. That's when he exploded. Within a minute he was inside and shouting at everyone to ‘Get the hell out!' The lights upstairs flickered and there was banging and thumping and the sound of smashing glass. People started spilling out into the front garden. I saw Isabelle and Shelley. Shelley had her hair back-combed and looked unbelievably stupid. They huddled together like convicts and I didn't watch too closely where they went. I was still looking for Nic and Michael. But I only saw Vicky in the porch, crying.

I was a good way off from everyone and therefore thought I was safe, but then a group of lads including Jason and Pete came over. They were trying to get some distance from Dr Senner's rabid ranting.

‘What'll we do now?' asked one of them.

‘Where you parked?' asked another.

‘Up by the Military Cemetery.'

Then I heard Nic's voice: ‘Did you see his face!
Fucking loser!
Fuck him if he thinks he can tell us what to do.'

‘Come on, let's go.'

‘What about the
woooods
,' Nic giggled. ‘Come
on
!'

‘You off your head?' snarled Pete.

‘Like you've got any better ideas!'

There was now a little crowd forming but I was too scared to look at their faces. I heard a girl say something about being cold, and then Pagey (I'm sure it was Pagey) slimed up to her and said he'd keep her warm. (Yuck.) There was the sound of clanking bottles and someone told Nic to shut up. She was obviously being bitchy, since she was always bitchy when drinking. There were a few more minutes of idle chat when I held my breath and didn't dare look, then everyone moved off towards the cemetery. I peered out. They were just about to disappear round the corner when Nic turned back.

‘My jacket!'

I froze and waited as she came back up the lane. She ducked around the side of the house – she was going to sneak in the back door.

I waited a few minutes and she didn't reappear. I now know that she was having a row with Vicky. Nic had a row with everyone that night. Slowly, I backed out of my bush and looked up and down the lane. There were still a few people vomiting/waiting for lifts home, and there was a boy and girl having a snogathon. I hadn't seen Michael. Had I missed him in the crowds? I hurried down the road after Pete and Jason, but keeping a good-ish distance.

I followed them off the road and onto the footpath past Bluebell Woods. Vicky and I used to have a lot of fun building dens down there. Jason and Pete had been joined by Pagey and Lisa, Paul Kelley, Isabelle and Shelley, André Duquemin, Caz Mitchell and Nikki Guillemette (the one who'd been sick in front of Mrs Senner). The wind carried their voices back so I knew they weren't far off, but I wondered where Nic was. I kept checking over my shoulder, just in case. Then I reached the entrance to the car park, which is also the entrance to the woods. I headed down to the woods, because I didn't want to get stuck in between Nic coming back from the Senners', and Jason and Pete and their mob.

Like I think I've mentioned, there is a main footpath running all the way through Bluebell Woods which eventually forks – you can go right towards Fermain or left towards Clarence Batterie and Town. I was a little way into the Woods when I heard voices above me and coming closer. I was scared and ran on ahead, climbing off the path the minute I could. Then I waited in a dampish hollow. The mix of voices got nearer and nearer. I heard Nic bickering with someone about Becca Le Messurier (who is or is not a ‘slag'). There were screams and laughter. Then I saw Lisa stumble. Pagey helped her up. Jason was easy to make out because he's so tall, and he was running around howling like a werewolf. The boys were trying to scare the girls, who were shrieking and throwing damp leaves at them. (Very funny, I'm sure.)