The Book of Lies (10 page)

I was in the watchtower for ages with Michael, but I don't know what we talked about. I only remember three little words going round and round in my head. ‘The Nazis Won'. Very romantic, it was.

I suppose I'd smoked a lot by then, which made it hard to climb down. Somehow I managed it, but by the time I got outside my head was spinning. No wonder I fell flat on my face and decided to stay there. The rain had stopped so Michael propped me on some rocks with my head between my knees. I think I stayed like that for quite a long time, which is obviously embarrassing. But it was more embarrassing that Mr McCracken found me.

Yes. I know. This is another illustration of how small Guernsey is.

I never understood why Mr McCracken was driving into the Pleinmont car park at the precise moment that I was hugging it. I certainly didn't have him down as a Sunday-Afternoon-Driver,
²⁹
but maybe he was lost in the fog.

I don't remember seeing him drive in, but I do remember his headlights were on. Then I heard his voice.

‘What are you doing here?'

For some reason Michael got the giggles and said we'd been repelling enemy invaders.

I sat up and assured Mr Mac that I was honestly A-OK.

Mr Mac looked from me back to Michael.

‘Has she been drinking? You know she's under-age.'

‘Oooo! Are you a policeman?' Michael wiggled his fingers. ‘Like I'm scared.'

Mr McC told Michael not to be such a bloody idiot, but I couldn't hear most of it because my ears were ringing, and all I knew for sure was that my bum was getting cold. Michael had lent me his
100
% acrylic Burton jumper (I still have it) but my legs had scary purple goosebumps. I stood up (a bit too quickly).

The next thing I knew I was in the McMobile, being bombarded with awful hippy music.

‘Where are we going?' I asked. ‘You can't take me home.'

Mr Mac sighed. ‘Well, I can't leave you
there
. What were you doing anyway?'

So I talked about my long-standing fascination with the Nazi German fortifications and how the guns the Germans had used at Pleinmont were manufactured by Skoda, which was the same make as his car, and wasn't that remarkable? I then admitted that the view from the top of the tower was quite disappointing, and therefore not strategic.

Big Mac said that it was very dangerous to go climbing the old German towers, but I explained that there was nothing else for young people to do on a Sunday afternoon on account of THE GAPING WOUND/Vacuum. It was therefore inevitable that we would all turn into hooligans and do stupid and dangerous things that might eventually get us killed. At this point McCrack stopped at a filter-in-turn.
³⁰
He squinted from left to right and seemed unsure about which way to go. I told him it was left.

‘Bloody roads!' he muttered.

I explained how during the Occupation the islanders took down all the signposts so as to confuse the Germans, and never put them back up because they realised it was the best way to cause endless suffering for holiday-makers. I thought McDoodle was enjoying my stories, I mean, that little nugget was right up the Rue-McClever. But he gave me such a filthy look.

‘How did you let yourself ever get in such a state?'

I pretended not to understand, only McClobber wasn't having any of it. He told me I was far too young to be drinking and that I should know better.

‘It's just as well I came along when I did. You could've got yourself in serious trouble.'

But the trouble was now in my stomach. Mr Mac had no inkling I might vomit in his car (and I didn't expect it, either). I was feeling all churned up (made worse by the gear changes). I opened my mouth to defend myself but before I could speak something else came out. He reached over to open my door as it spilled onto the road. Seconds later I was hunched over a hedgerow with McCrackers at my side. He asked what I'd drunk because my vomit was the colour of Radox tropical bubble bath. I admitted I couldn't remember, and continued to empty my stomach. Then I blew my nose and said sorry. Mr Mac got a few more tissues from his car.

‘You shouldn't be mixing with the likes of Michael Priaulx. I don't like to go by what I've heard but it's clear he's too old for you. Who else were you with?'

I was feeling so sick and hot and cold and scared.

It's not good to feel so many things at once.

‘What do you care?' I asked. ‘Are you worried I'll get you in trouble?'

‘It's not that, Cathy. I
do
understand. I was young once.'

It was round about then that I had a major freak-out. I went on and on about how I was more misunderstood than Hitler, and how I did miss Dad and how I got everything wrong. Mighty Mac put his arm around me and I snivelled on his woolly shoulder.

He was about to say something when another car appeared behind us and started beeping its horn. I wiped my nose and tried to look sane, which was just as well since it was Mrs Senner. Mrs Senner (aka Radio Senner) is Vicky's mum and Dr Senner's wife, and is hard to avoid on account of her fluorescent fuchsia lipstick, which never comes off despite her kissing people in the Belgian way.
³¹
When she saw who was blocking the road she slowed down and asked if everything was ‘all righty'. I thought for one terrible minute she might actually get out. Mr McCracken panicked, too, and waved her along quite brusquely, saying everything was fine and I was just a little carsick.

‘It's my fault,' he shrugged. ‘I'm not used to all these narrow lanes and hidden turnings. It's all stop-start-stop-start with me.'

Mrs Senner laughed and told him he should have got used to it by now.

‘I know, I know!' He rolled his eyes and smiled.

As she drove off I couldn't help but look at Mr Mac with Super-Gluey eyes. What Mr McCrack did was so noble and generous. He'd preserved what was left of my dignity. Mrs Senner would've gone absolutely nuts if she'd examined me more closely/smelt/inspected my vomit. She'd have marched round to our house and told Mum all about it, and then Mum would've got upset about everyone knowing our business. But Mr Mac had been my Knight-in-Shining-Skoda, and he obviously really cared since he suggested we stop at Island Wide for a can of Coke and something to eat.

‘You'll probably feel a lot better now it's all out of your system.'

I nodded meekly, got back in the car and he was right, after a few minutes I did start to feel better. I told him I was sorry for ruining his Sunday and he laughed and said there was nothing to be ruined.

‘Truth is, I hadn't made any plans.'

He then watched me guzzle two packets of Quavers and a Fanta, which kind of proved the point.

It was only after I'd scoffed the lot that I dared ask him what he was going to tell Mum.

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. ‘I don't know. Will she be at home yet?'

I shook my head. ‘She's at work. She's working all hours to save the business because you might not know this but Dad left us terrible debts. She's got enough on her plate, trust me, she needs this like a hole in the head.'

Mr Mac pulled a face.

‘So, what do I do with you?'

I stared at my hands. ‘I'm meant to be at Nicolette Prevost's house. It's just round the corner.'

Mr Mac raised his eyebrows to make little quote marks over his face.

‘You and Nicolette, I should've known. She was at Pleinmont with you, wasn't she?' He shook his head. ‘Bang goes my star pupil.' But then, unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘I'll drop you back there now, shall I?'

I was amazed/terrified/appalled. I couldn't understand why Mr Mac would do such a thing, but I assumed he just wanted to humiliate me further. He found the way to Les Paradis with only two more gear crunches and when we pulled into the drive Therese was (thankfully) dressed and at the door.

She was very surprised to see me without Nicolette, and with Mr McCracken.

‘Is everything all right? Cathy, where's Nicolette?'

There was a note of panic in her voice.

‘I'm sorry,' I said quickly, ‘Nic and I got separated, there was a mix-up over lifts, she'll be back very soon, I'm sure. Can I wait for her in her room?'

Therese frowned. ‘Yes, that's fine, go on up, but I'm cross with Nicolette for leaving you. Mr McCracken, I don't know what to say. This is unexpected. How kind of you to go out of your way and bring Cathy back.'

Mr Mac smiled. ‘It was nothing.'

Then Mr Prevost came out into the hallway and draped an arm over Therese, who stiffened as per a post. Her eyes darted anxiously from me back to her husband.

‘Roger, Nicolette's gone AWOL again. Poor Mr McCracken here has doubled up as a taxi service. We have to talk to her, it's getting out-of-hand.'

Mr Prevost shook his head, still smiling. ‘She'll be back when she gets hungry, I don't doubt.' Then he rolled his eyes at Mr McCracken. ‘Kids, eh? It's like we talk a different language. I'm surprised you can be bothered.'

Mr McCracken was smiling at Therese.

‘Well, I'm sure it's all just a silly mistake.'

Mr Prevost nodded. ‘Bound to be. I owe you a drink.

If ever you fancy it, there's a gang of us who meet up at the Royal Hotel. A lot of the chaps at the bank are English and have come over on contracts. We go there on Wednesdays and Fridays and sometimes at the weekend. Ha-ha! I should probably move in. But seriously, I bet you'd fit right in.'

‘That's kind.' Mr McCracken was already Mc-backing away. ‘I'll bear that in mind, most definitely. Right now I must be off.'

‘Thanks again,' I called. ‘I really appreciate it.'

Mr McCracken smiled at Therese with what I thought was sympathy. ‘I'm sure Nicolette will be back safe and sound, but if you're at all worried do call me.'

Therese fiddled with a long gold necklace and looked all Lady Di.

‘You're very kind.'

And with that, Super-Mac folded his long body into his car and started the engine without the slightest crunch or scream. He reversed down the drive and in a second he was gone. I couldn't believe it. He hadn't said anything about the state I'd been in or where I'd been or how illegal it all was. I was mystified. I stared up at Therese and Mr Prevost like they'd witnessed a minor miracle. But once the shock wore off I felt a bit confused. I didn't want or need a miracle. I wanted a proper punishment. Or at least a proper parent.

I know Mr Mac wasn't my dad, but he had a duty of care, or whatever you call it. As my form teacher he should've done something. Perhaps he didn't want to get involved, or perhaps he didn't want to make trouble. Either way, they made him a coward. And Mr Prevost was no better. He thought Nic was his little princess and therefore could do no wrong. This is serious black-and-white proof that the adults on this island are utterly useless. They think Guernsey's so peaceful and perfect that their kids can come to no harm. Don't they consider the harm kids can do to each other?

If you give someone an inch they take a mile – isn't that what they say? Remember Guernsey's small, in fact, it's only three miles wide.

15TH DECEMBER 1985
,
4
.
30
p.m.

[Kitchen, having eaten three ‘Lean Cuisines'. Therefore ‘Not Lean'.]

‘
Traitor!
'

It was Monday morning bright and early and Nic had just slammed her satchel on my desk. Her eyes bored into me.

‘I can't believe you went off in a huff and left me like that. Have you forgotten who your friends are?'

The whole of the class went quiet and stared at us.

‘I'm sorry,' I replied, ‘I should never have climbed up the tower with Michael Priaulx. I had no idea he was going to go all nutty like that.'

Nic folded her arms under her boobs. ‘How fucking
dare
you embarrass me like that! And what the hell were you thinking, going back to my house afterwards?'

(I'd waited in Nic's bedroom for over two hours, and then Therese had driven me home.)

‘I was looking for you and I thought you'd be there. What else did you expect me to do?'

‘You could've gone anywhere. You had no right. And I know you went through my stuff. Where's my silver locket, you little thief!'

(She'd definitely said I could borrow it.)

I dug my nails into the sides of the desk.

‘Look, I went there and waited for you because I wanted to say sorry. I thought you'd be back before too long.'

‘More like you were waiting for an excuse to suck up to my mum. I can't trust you. I didn't know what to tell the boys. And as if that wasn't embarrassing enough, you do your little Second World War reenactment with Monobrow Michael and act like a total spaz.
Jesus,
you could've hit the car!'

‘We weren't trying to hit anyone, it was just a laugh.'

‘Were
you
laughing?'

(I couldn't remember.)

Nic shook her head and leaned in, lowering her voice a little but not quite enough.

‘I don't know why I bother. Christ, I'd even set you up with Pagey, did you know that? I'd totally talked you up to him, told him to take it easy because, you know, you hadn't done much
before.
Then,
then
, you start spewing embarrassing facts about
vegetables.
Is it really any wonder we tell you to zip it?'

Anne-Marie enjoyed the reference to vegetables and muttered ‘Cabbage' under her breath. I hissed at her to shut up. I tried to explain to Nic how I honestly hadn't been sulking. But she called me childish and annoying. She also said that I drank too much of everyone else's alcohol without ever supplying my own.

‘You just want a free ride and if you don't get what you want you act like a baby. I mean, how dare you turn up at my house and tell my mum and dad you don't know where I am, and make out that I was the one who was in the wrong to go off and leave you in the middle of nowhere.'