The Book of Lies (28 page)

Read The Book of Lies Online

Authors: Mary Horlock

Tags: #FIC000000, #FIC043000

BOOK: The Book of Lies
11.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

But by the time we got to the park she was acting as shifty as a tax dodger. I kept suggesting stuff to do or eat, but she wasn't interested. All she did was stare off into the distance, and I wondered if she was looking out for girls from our class.

‘Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?' I asked.

‘Don't be daft!' she replied. ‘You're so paranoid.'

I said sorry (of course), but then I lost her in the queue for the sparklers. The minute my back was turned she vanished. I wasn't surprised, really. I assumed she'd gone to find someone more exciting.

I'm not too fond of crowds and I didn't want to go on any of the rides by myself. I therefore focused on the food, of which there was a lot. I'd eaten two slices of ham and pineapple pizza and some Dolly Mixtures when the display started, and as pink stars exploded in the sky everyone was looking up and making ‘ooh-aaah' noises. But I wasn't in the mood to be all filled with wonder, what with everyone elbowing me.

I decided I'd had enough and walked all around the bonfire, still looking for Vicky. As I milled about the people's faces, all lit up by the flames, began to look quite devilish. I had a strange feeling, and it wasn't indigestion. I walked past Mum's stand but she wasn't on it. Then I did a circuit of the beer tent. Everyone was chatting and laughing – families together, young couples, etc. Then I thought I saw Vicky walking off into the wooded bit of the park. I ran after her, calling out, past groups of people or couples snogging. I was heading towards the children's playground, away from the crowds, which was maybe not too clever. Then I felt someone tug at the hood of my anorak and I heard a clicking sound. It took me a minute to work out what was happening and by then I smelt burning. Nic stood back, holding a cigarette lighter with its little flame still flickering. She'd tried to set fire to the fur trim of my anorak. It was fake fur and had therefore melted, but the smell was disgusting.

She shoved me and I fell, and then I heard Lisa laugh. I remember blinking as liquid was poured onto me. It was White Spirit (I recognised the smell from art class) and I shook my head about. I also tried to stand back up but Lisa put her hands on my shoulders.

Nic flicked the lighter and held it up. ‘Scared now?'

I don't know for sure if they'd have done it, or if they were just trying to scare me.

Nic said ‘You are a filthy little liar! Repeat after me:

“I'm a filthy little liar!”'

‘No,' I spluttered. ‘Why?'

Out of the darkness someone called ‘Hey there!'

I vaguely focused on a fluorescent jacket and realised it was one of the safety-wardens-cum-parking-attendants. ‘Bloody kids. What are you playing at? Get back to the fair or I'll take you to the police tent.'

I stood up and brushed myself down. Of course everyone else had vanished. I said thank you to the man but he gave me a dirty look, like it was all my fault, and propelled me back towards the bonfire. The last thing I wanted to do was go back into the fair. I wondered where Vicky was. Had she been watching? Had she lured me into a trap? She must've really hated me, to do something so low. I checked the time on my Swatch.
9
.
15
. Mum had arranged for me to get a lift back with Mrs Senner at
10
, which meant I still had
45
minutes.
Quel nightmare
. I made for the main part of the park, knowing Nic and Lisa were lurking somewhere, getting ready to come after me again. I thought about calling Mum but the nearest phone box was on the Cobo Road, and all my money had gone from my pockets. Had I spent all my money on pizzas or had someone stolen it? I spun round and stared hard into every dark corner, but with all the noise and commotion and crowds, I couldn't see much. I just knew I had to get out so I followed painted arrow signs to the car park. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest. I kept checking over my shoulder to see if I was being followed. Then I imagined myself on fire as per a real-life human Catherine Wheel, and Nic laughing demonically whilst Lisa spun me round.

I was about
10
metres from the big ‘Way Out' sign when it happened. WHAM! I was face-down in the gravel. It was like I'd been knocked over by a car or lorry until I felt something hard between my shoulders. The heel of a shoe.

‘Get off me!' I tried to push myself up but ended up on my side with Nic crouching over me.

‘Look at me.' She tried to turn my head. ‘Look at me!'

I closed my eyes tight. I felt a sharp pain along my spine (lower down this time). It was dark and wet and the gravel was digging in. I tried to cover my face with my hands.

‘Only pigs roll around in shit,' said Nic, pushing me down.

I told her to stop it.

‘And how will you make me?'

Of course I couldn't. Then I felt someone kicking me so I tried to curl up like a hedgehog. Nic had grabbed a chunk of my hair and was trying to pull my head back.

‘Get off me! Leave me alone!'

Then I heard a man's voice and everything stopped.

Nic was muttering ‘We're only mucking about' and tugged roughly at my anorak.

‘It didn't look to me like mucking about.'

I blinked my eyes open. For a second I thought it was an angel and/or Dad.

He leaned down.

‘Cathy, can you stand?'

I sat up and let Donnie hook me under the armpits to pull me to my feet.

‘Come on, let's get you home.'

I hadn't seen him since the summer so of course I was surprised, but I didn't say anything because I was too scared. He had his arm around me as he steered me away from Nic and Lisa, and then I saw Shelley standing right behind them. I thought my legs would give up before we reached his car.

‘You can't take her home, you're not her dad,' Nic tried to grab at him, ‘I'm going to call the pigs on you. You're sick.'

‘Ignore them.' Donnie propelled me forwards.

I stumbled on something, twisting my ankle.

‘I'm talking to you,
perv
.' Nic was tugging at Donnie's cuff. ‘What are you going to do with her?'

I didn't see Donnie push her but he must've done, because she fell.

I heard someone tell him he shouldn't have done that.

He dived round one side of his car and started unlocking the door. I went round to the passenger side but Nic was up and pulling at me. I yanked myself free and by now Donnie was in the car and the inside light was on. I watched him climb over to open the door on my side. Then he reached out his hand and hauled me in.

I slammed my door shut. Donnie started the ignition and went into reverse. I really hoped we'd run someone over. I didn't care. But as we turned Lisa jumped out in front of us, looking a lot like an axe-murderer thanks to the full-beam headlights.

She thumped her hand on the bonnet.

I was now very scared and Donnie didn't much help with his hysterical ‘Christ Alive'-ing. He revved his engine and the car lurched forward, like it might knock Lisa down. She took the hint and got out of the way. We swung the car round and tore out of the exit.

We sped past the Post Office, heading for the coast road. Those pizza slices were doing star-jumps in my stomach and my ribs and shoulder ached. Plus Donnie was bug-eyed and hyper-venting.

‘Donnie,' I said, ‘thank you.'

Donnie didn't take his eyes off the road. I could tell that he was shaken – his skin was shiny and he was driving well over the
35
MPH speed limit. Then we started going faster and faster, and I thought we'd definitely crash off a cliff.

‘Slow down.'

He ignored me and gripped the steering wheel. He wasn't a very good driver, like most people on the island, so I was waiting for us to turn a corner and skid and do a somersault. But I preferred crashing with Donnie to being pulverised/set alight by Nic. Trees and hedges were flashing by, I held my breath and shut my eyes and maybe said a few prayers. Suddenly we hit a bump and the car lurched onto soft ground, coming to a stop on L'Ancresse golf course. All I heard then was our breathing.

Seconds passed. I reached out to try to touch Donnie's shoulder.

‘Don't!'

I'd never seen Donnie angry but I'm glad to report it didn't last long. He breathed in and out a few more times, sat back and pressed his hands into his face, then closed them round his nose. A couple of rockets flew up into the sky and lit up the golf course. I could see a low bunker in the distance.

Donnie turned to look at me.

‘You're all right? Good. Good.' He sighed and swallowed. ‘What just happened back there. What just happened,
didn't
happen, do you understand?'

I didn't.

He wiped the sweat from his chins. ‘You won't tell anyone.'

‘O-K,' I said slowly.

‘You see why. Those girls could have me for assault. It'd be their word against mine and I wouldn't stand a chance.'

‘Don't be daft.' I shifted in my seat and made the leather fart.

Donnie shook his head. ‘Didn't you
hear
them? What if anyone else heard?' His chest rose and fell. ‘They could pin whatever they liked on me and don't pretend your local police force wouldn't take their side. Teenage girls, I'm easy pickings for that lot, aren't I?'

I stared down at my muddy hands and remembered the last time I'd seen him.

‘You know what Nicolette's like – she'll say anything to get a reaction.'

I heard Donnie sigh. ‘It's about more than that. You and I both know it.'

Another firework went off and I looked up into the sky, but Donnie was watching me.

‘I've never made anyone do anything they don't want to. I'm not some dirty old man. I shouldn't have to explain myself. There's nothing to explain.'

I glanced back at him and his eyes were glittery from the fireworks.

‘You don't think what she thinks, do you? I'm not some
pervert.

' I remembered Mr McCracken and all the things I'd called him, and then I pictured Donnie, with his shirt unbuttoned, sprawled on his sofa.

I shook my head. ‘You're not a pervert. You've only ever tried to be my friend. Whatever anyone says, I'll back you up.'

He stared off into the distance. I watched him chew at the nail of his index finger and wondered what else to say. I wanted to tell him that I'd missed him.

He sighed again, this time like he was emptying his whole chest.

‘I've tried to keep a low profile, since the summer. They never are.' He glanced across at me. ‘Do you know what that's like?'

I'm sorry for what happened between us and if I overstepped the mark. I hoped things would blow over. I should know better, of course. It is what it is and it always turns out the same. I come somewhere new and think things will be different, people will be different.

I wanted to say I did but I didn't, since I'd never been anywhere foreign except France on our boat (which doesn't count) and Tenerife (which is full of English people). Mum took me there after Dad's life insurance money came through and we stayed in a fancy hotel with two enormous swimming pools. It was my-first-proper-foreign holiday and it should've been the-best-thing-ever, only Mum kept worrying about how much everything cost. I never understood why she worried, since nobody doubted her OFFICIAL VERSION of how Dad died, and they never once asked for the money back.

Mum worried too much – just like Donnie. He was convinced he'd get arrested and thrown into prison and nothing I could say would make a difference. That's the real reason he's packed up and left, by the way. I tried to convince him to stay. I honestly did. I reminded him that Guernsey wasn't like other places on account of its History, but he wasn't listening. If only he'd read Dad's books he'd have realised that in Guernsey guilty people never go to prison – that's why it's full of posho English people and their swish-Swiss bankers.

In Guernsey, guilty people always get a second chance.

Anton A. Vern

56
Bandestrasse

34015
Vienna

12
.
12
.
83

Dear Emile Rozier,

It has been some years since you last wrote to me, and I am sure you have long since given up hope of a reply. I thank you for the many pamphlets and journals that you have sent to me. It is clear to me that you have understood a great deal about your island's history. However, it is your own family history that still troubles you, as I can well understand. You wrote to me in the hope that I might shed some light on the matter and I regret very much that I can. You are the person to whom I must explain things, but this will be a great burden for you. Perhaps you of all people can appreciate that there are more than two sides to any story. The truth is like a prism through which the light shines, but the patterns it creates can distract and confuse.

I am
61
years old – which is perhaps not old, but I have cancer. I am too sick to write, therefore a friend is typing what I speak, and by the time this reaches you I trust I will be dead.

What I would like to say first is sorry. I remember you only as a small child, and since that time you have known much loss. Your late brother endured great hardships and I can well understand why he resisted talking of his experiences for so long. I have often thought of him over the years. I am sorry he did not have children. I have three sons and I am very proud of the men they have become. I will miss them.

I will say what I have to say and no more. I do not like my memories, and my emotions become troubled when I think of your island. It is still beautiful, I have no doubt, but it was never a place I would wish to return to. When I was posted to Guernsey I felt differently; we were very impressed by the beauty of the cliffs, and we felt comfortable and fortunate. I personally did not want to be sent to the Front because I was not convinced by Hitler or his War. I was pleased to be but an administrator, and did my utmost to smooth relations with the local population.

Other books

Whispers at Midnight by Karen Robards
Always and Forever by Harper Bentley
The Map That Changed the World by Simon Winchester
At the Bottom of the River by Jamaica Kincaid
Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Thomas Sweterlitsch
The Morning After by Clements, Sally
Athel by E. E. Giorgi