The Book of Lies Read Online Free Page A

terrible why tell of it, since words give it fresh life and substance? Bury the past. Deny it as long as you can. The only trouble is, the more you deny something the more power it will have. Look what has happened with our Occupation: our States deputies want it tidied into a tourist guide and treated like a day trip, but there are dead and rotting bodies buried in the tunnels and lying at the bottom of our cliffs. Can’t you smell death? It is a travesty and it is a whitewash!
    Vère dja, j’pourrais t’encaöntair d’pis maïr haôute jusqu’a bass iaôue . . . Emile, I am your big brother, I am your bad brother, and that’s how I’ll be remembered. I’ll admit I did wrong and that I’ve got blood on my hands, but I’ll not stand here alone. There are people on this island who have got away with murder. I’ve been shelled out enough times on this, but I’ll not be silent no more. You write down what I tell you, word for word, and remember it’s all true. Then I’ll die easy.
    You do it for me, Emile, let your pen be my revenge.

13TH DECEMBER 1985 , 5 p.m.
    [Dad’s study]
    I know I shouldn’t call this Dad’s study anymore – he’s been dead a lot longer than Nic – but this is still my favourite room. I do all my best thinking in here, and I like to remember how it used to look. There was a huge desk with paper stacked up all around it, just like the walls of a fortress, and books and box files were jammed onto every spare shelf, or scattered all over the sofa. Dad said he had a system but I never worked out what it was. (Not that I was allowed in here, or could even make it through the door.)
    Today it’s clean and empty: Dad’s books have gone, plus all the files and shelves, and Mum’s painted the whole room white. She said Dad had let things get outof-hand, so what he called his LIFE’S BLOOD was actually mostly scrap paper. There’s a lot more space and light now, and you can even see the carpet, and that definitely makes Mum happy. She’s finally got her own office. People were shocked by how quickly she sprang into action, how she took over the business and turned it around, but she needed a fresh start, and I suppose she had a lot to prove.
    You see, when Dad was alive, our ye olde family business, The Patois 10 Press, wasn’t much of a business at all. Dad’s books never sold as brilliantly as we’d hoped, and we were always tripping over them. Even his magazine, The Occupation Today , which had real-life subscribers and contributors, was running at a loss. Without Mum’s common sense we’d have definitely gone bankrupt. Dad couldn’t accept the trouble we were in because he didn’t care about money/my schooling. Mum said that he was so wrapped up in the past that he couldn’t think about the future. She said you can’t change History – the things that have already happened – but the future is wide open.
    Now, Mum reckons what’s ahead makes her happy and I should want her to be happy. Isn’t that what all children want for their parents?
    And yes, I do admire her, because she kept up appearances and pretended things were fine, when they really weren’t. It was a bit like when the Germans invaded Guernsey: most islanders tried to ignore them and carry on like normal. This is called sang froid , which sounds better in French, because in English it’s cold blood. I wouldn’t call Mum cold-blooded, but she is a pragmatist, and it’s a shame Dad won’t see how she’s transformed the business. A third of Guernsey’s advertising flyers are now produced by The Patois Press, and we’ve (trumpets, please) just launched our first-ever Escape to Guernsey Calendar.
    Mum, it turns out, is an excellent businesswoman.
    Which is why she wasn’t around much after Dad died, and why she never noticed when Nic started to come over.