The Book of Lies (33 page)

I sighed and fidgeted and felt guilty as per ever.

‘Yes. I know, he told me, but I also know he didn't mean it and he's very sorry.'

Vicky looked up. ‘Really?'

‘Don't worry about Michael. As of tonight you won't ever have to see him again.'

Vicky asked me what I meant and my mind raced ahead of my mouth and fell over.

‘Me and Michael, we're running away together,' I said.

Vicky looked impressively morbidified. ‘You what?'

‘We're going to England first and then we'll work our way round the world and hopefully, eventually, end up in Australia. He's got an uncle there I want to meet.'

Vick shook her head. ‘You've lost it. You are totally off your head.'

‘No,' I replied. ‘You're the one who's off her head if you think you're to blame for what happened to Nic. You have to put it behind you. She got what she deserved. I'm going tonight and I don't like to think that you'll be left sitting here feeling guilty plus miserable over something you can't change. I'm sorry I was a bad friend and I went off with Nic and I'm sorry I got stuff wrong. I hope you can forgive me. Blame me if you have to blame anyone.'

Vicky wiped her nose. ‘Why should I blame you?'

I would have maybe answered but Mrs S. came in with a big box of jumble.

‘It's for your darling mother,' she smiled. ‘She asked me to have a clear-out and we seem to have an awful lot of rather useless things. Be an angel and take it back with you.'

I smiled politely and said something very deep about how you can't hold onto the past for ever.

When I looked across at Vicky I knew she wanted to ask me more, but I said I had to go.

I've got no idea what Vicky's going to do. She might tell her mum and dad what I've got planned, and then they'll ring Mum in a panic. Is that what I secretly want? But then it's just as likely that Vicky will keep quiet. She knows I tend to exaggerate and she probably thinks I'm bluffing. I'm not, though. I might not make it as far as Australia but I swear I'll get on that boat and I won't look back. I'll ignore the nagging feeling that is telling me to wait. It's stupid! I hate this miserable rock, so why do I suddenly not want to leave? It's what I
should
do. Actually, I'm in a bit of a hurry so I'd better just get a move on. I'm all packed up and ready – I've packed spare socks and trousers, my sleeping bag and two cans of Impulse Vitality. There's no room for any books, in fact, not even ones by Dad. And maybe that's a good thing. I won't need them where I'm going, and I think I've told you what you need to know.

So. Mum, now you have the full History I know you'll be upset. It can't be nice – to find out that your daughter's killed someone. The fact that I killed a Prevost might make it seem less awful. I don't especially like the name Prevost now I know what it means. That's not a good enough reason to do what I did, though. I'm probably crazy to think if I get away from here it'll finally make everything right, but at least now I'm sure about Michael, and I want us to leave together. We'll be in Southampton for Christmas. How cool is that?

Mum, I'll miss you and I'm sorry for putting you in this horrible situation. Now you know what I've done you'll want to do the right thing and tell Constable Priaulx. As a good Christian you should have me stopped and arrested, so that I can face a proper punishment. If it's not murder, it's manslaughter – right? Taking away any life is wrong as per the Bible and I must be punished. Justice must be served.

But if you
are
going to the police then you'd better be careful what you tell them, and you certainly won't want to show them this. You should come and talk to me first. I'm sure you must realise that there are quite a few secrets that I've kept for you. It's here in black-and-white if you read between the lines. Dad's heart stopped working for a very particular reason and I know that you lied. Did he leave a note? Did you get rid of it? How long did you have to wait before calling Dr Senner? Did you lie for the money or was there another reason? I've read every book in this house, every letter, every file, and every scrap of paper left, but there are still some questions I can't answer. I think it's time you answered them, otherwise I'll imagine all sorts. And, Mum, I do imagine all sorts.

It's easy to kill someone and make it look like a suicide, and it's easy to make a suicide look like something else. I now understand why people prefer lies. The truth isn't easy. Still, here it is: Nic's dead and I'm to blame. I might not have meant to kill her but I saw it happen and I didn't stop it. Does that sound familiar? If you turn a blind eye to something, if you sit back and watch, you are still guilty. You're as guilty as anyone else.

I'm sorry, Mum, I'm très-mega-sorry, but I hope I've finally got your attention. Now it's just you and me and what we know, and you have to decide the next step. Are you going to keep my secret and let me get away from here, or are we going to face our lies together? I used to think that I was so much smarter than everyone else but I'm still a kid and I'm asking you, my mother, to show me what to do. I can't make these decisions on my own. I'm in your hands. If you come now, to Clarence Batterie, you might just catch me. I promise I'll listen to what you've got to say. One of us might still get on that boat, but at least we'd both be free.

Oh Mum, look what I've done. Look at me and look at this. You always had your nose in a book, so I went and wrote one just for you. I hope it has been more than entertaining. In fact, this should be just about the best book you've ever read, what with its gripping conclusion. It's got all the things you like best.

It even has a proper twist at the end.

The twist is that you get to choose it.

Acknowledgements

There are many people I'd like to thank, and top of the list is Georgia Byng, who gave me such good advice just when I needed it. Thank you also to my brilliant agent, Natasha Fairweather, for her unstinting support and critical insights, and to Marie Darrieussecq, for her love and constant encouragement. Writing is a lonely business, but I count myself extremely fortunate to have had the support of Devorah Baum, Claire Bishop, Susie Boyt, Sarah Ghai, Anouchka Grose, Vicken Parsons and Louise Wilson, who reminded me why I wanted to do this, as did Vincent Dachy. I'm also very grateful to Patricia Whitford, for reading various drafts and never taking offence.

The title of this book is deceptive – there is plenty of fact within the fiction. I owe a great deal to the parents and grandparents of my schoolfriends who first shared their memories of the Occupation with me and fired my interest in the subject. I am also indebted to the islanders who recorded and published their own remarkable accounts.
Silent War
by Frank Falla,
Isolated
Island
by V. V. Cortreviend and
Never To Be Forgotten
by Joe Mière are all extraordinary memoirs. Histories of the German Occupation are considerable in number, ranging from
Islands in Danger
, by Mary and Alan Woods, first published in
1955
, and the important and controversial
Model Occupation
by Madeleine Bunting. More recently, Paul Sanders has produced
The British
Channel Islands Under Occupation
1940–1945
, the most comprehensive, detailed and objective study to date.

I read widely, but it was the personal narratives that stayed in my head. Books such as Miriam Mahy's
There
is an Occupation
remain on my bedside table, and it was Miriam and her cousin Cynthia Lenormand who helped me with the Guernsey patois translations. Their patience and good humour was greatly appreciated. I'm also very grateful to Gregory Stevens-Cox, an inspiring teacher, whose many publications on Guernsey history have always been enjoyed and appreciated by my family, and whose recent book on Victor Hugo in the Channel Islands makes fascinating reading. A special thank you also to the real-life Kez Le Pelley and André Duquemin, for letting me use their names in this fictional context, and to Victoria Kinnersly for her wonderful map.

When I first started writing
The Book of Lies
I never imagined anyone else would read it, but I'm so glad the right people
did
read it. Thank you to Jamie Byng for believing in the book, and to Andrea Joyce, Norah Perkins, Anya Serota and everyone at Canongate for their patience, support and enthusiasm. But above all, a massive thank-you to Ailah Ahmed, an excellent editor who reigned in my crazier ramblings and guided me so carefully to this point. She was the perfect other person to talk to besides the characters in my head.

End Notes

1
‘Schoolgirl Killed in Cliff Fall at Clarence Batterie',
Guernsey Evening
Press
,
3
rd December
1985
.

2
Emile Philippe Rozier (
1938–84
), late of Sans Soucis, Village de Courtils, St Peter Port; Guernsey's most famous/only Local/Modern Historian and the founder/editor of The Patois Press and author of its many historical guides to Guernsey and the other, less important Channel Islands.

3
To be more exact: Guernsey is part of the Bailiwick of Guernsey, which is part of the Channel Islands, which is only vaguely part of the United Kingdom and does not want to be part of Europe, and on maps of the World we don't even exist, so the World can bugger off.

4
Aka Fortress Guernsey, so-named by the Nazis after they occupied the island in
1940
. FESTUNG denotes (excellent word) the vast amounts of building work ordered by Hitler to fortify/destroy Guernsey's natural beauty (see E.P. Rozier, THE CONCRETE TRUTH, The Patois Press,
1970
).

5
Guernsey has a lot of these modern estates now, and the houses are very elaborate because they are funded by Swiss bankers whose vast/immoral earnings fiddle the local tax laws. Not that there are any tax laws, and not that the bankers are Swiss.

6
Victor Hugo (
1802–85
) is the most famous person to have ever lived in Guernsey (apart from Oliver Reed, who is an excellent drunkard and actor). He (Victor Hugo, not Oliver Reed) lived at Hauteville House in St Peter Port, which is now a museum, which is never open (see E.P. Rozier, VICTOR HUGO'S HOUSE – AN INVENTORY, The Patois Press,
1978
).

7
The French only ever shrug and say ‘n'est-ce pas?' They also add on an extra ‘me' and ‘te' just for effect and sadly Guernsey people do the same (e.g. ‘Where are you going, you?' or ‘I've got three heads, me'). It's just embarrassing.

8
Between
1941
and
1944
about
16,000
foreign slave workers were brought over to the islands to build new defences. A lot were starved, beaten and worked to death. Dad had tracked down some survivors and recorded interviews with islanders telling him what they'd seen. It was properly gory and I can't believe people let it happen. (But they did.)

9
‘The Costa Brava Costa Nothing' according to the
Guernsey Evening
Press
. (Tourism is in a slump due to cheaper flights to/cheaper cocktails in places of guaranteed sunshine.)

10
Only ye olde people (and Dad) can speak Guernsey Patois. It was spoken a lot during the German Occupation, because
most
Germans couldn't understand it. Now it's dying out, as per everything. It's Medieval Norman French mixed with Latin, Welsh, Scotch and Brandy (kidding!). It sounds a lot like someone speaking French badly without their front teeth (see above ref. old people).

11
E.g. the one about the Underground Hospital as a gas chamber, or the one about Guernsey as a breeding ground for the Aryan race, or the testimonies of ex-prisoners from the Alderney Death Camps (see E.P. Rozier, GUERNSEY GAS CHAMBER AND OTHER MYTHS, The Patois Press,
1968/9
).

12
The sea in Fermain is the coldest in Europe. This is the fault of the Gulf Stream but I do not know why.

13
There is at least one definite example of this, when
100
slave workers were caught in a rock fall in the tunnel they were digging by La Vallette, which is, by the way, just under Clarence Batterie. Nobody could get them out and so they were left for dead, but no one will admit it (see E.P. Rozier, BUNKER BAEDEKER, The Patois Press,
1977
, p.
34
).

14
(Hitler clearly didn't have a clue.)

15
‘Sarnia, dear Homeland, Gem of the sea, Island of Beauty my heart longs for Thee'. The Guernsey anthem, composed by George Deighton in
1911
.

16
Note also the ‘Village de Courtils', which has no shops but is called a Village on account of its postbox. Note else, the Priaulx family's house, which is called ‘Vue du Lac', although there isn't even a pond, and ‘Les Paradis', so-named on account of its two dwarf palm trees. Guernsey is so small people have to exaggerate.

17
‘Kentucky Fried Cat!' ran the headline of the
Guernsey Evening Press
.

18
An Ormer is an intriguing mollusc-thingy unique to Guernsey's beaches. It tastes of nothing and is therefore pointless, but people still like to collect it, and can only do so at certain times of the year, which makes them call it a delicacy. (This is a good example of how Guernsey people have too much time on their hands.)

19
The Village = the Village de Courtils (see note
1
6). The original occupants of these houses were turfed out by the Germans during the Occupation, and they became lodgings for lower-ranking German officers. Our house was the mess, which is appropriate if you look at my room. Donnie's house was built after the War, but the house that was there
before
was used by the German Field Police for orgies/interrogations/torture (apparently).