The Book of Lies by Mary Horlock

person Dad ever told off, but when I went through his old files I realised I was wrong. He was always writing letters, complaining about this or that. Nothing and no one escaped his scrutiny. He’d even been through our local telephone directory, making notes by people’s names or occasionally giving them a star. I counted 245 Le Poidevoins, half of which were crossed out.
    FYI: There wasn’t much action on the Prevost pages, even though there were 247 listed. That’s quite a lot, and it may explain why Therese acted so posh, if she felt she had a lot to compete with. I thought the fact that there were so many Prevosts was a sign of their success. After all, Therese had her own BMW and full-time cleaner who did all the dirty washing. By contrast us Roziers were dwindling year by year. We were dying out as per the panda bears. I mean, even Grandma (Dad’s mother) had gone back to her maiden name after she was widowed. There was/is something wrong with being called Rozier.
    But there are worse names you could have. Exhibit ‘A’: Donnie Golden. Yes, it’s ridiculous, but then he was from England so what would you expect? I can’t precisely remember when he moved into his swanky new home on the cliffs by Fort George. It was called the White House and he had a big party to show it off. Everyone from the Village 19 was invited, and even though Mum announced that she was far too busy, Nic and I persuaded her to go. We told her it was about time she went out and had some fun, and offered to come along for not-very-moral support. I think she felt flattered that we cared, and she even wore shoulder pads for it.
    I should explain that for years Mum only ever wore long shirts and jeans and Nivea hand cream on her face, but when she took over the business she tried to smarten up. That’s when she permed her hair and started wearing power suits. Mum and I never fought over clothes like Nic and Therese, but we did once go to Jersey on a shopping spree. We spent a hundred pounds in BHS. You can get a lot for your money in BHS, and I joked that I got a brand new mum.
    I should’ve been happy we were doing stuff together, and she looked almost presentable as we marched up to the electric gates of the White House. But she hadn’t been to any parties since Dad had died, preferring to read P.D. James in the bath, and I could tell that she was nervous. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. I said we’d present A UNITED FRONT (meaning our neighbours were THE ENEMY), but as it turned out everyone was stupendously drunk and sliding down the wallpaper before nine o’clock, and they all agreed that it was good to see Mum out.
    Of course, Guernsey people don’t ever say what they mean. They are an excellent word called Fickle. I know I said that when the Germans took over most people ignored them, but actually the population was split down the middle. Some people stuck their noses in the air and carried on like normal, whilst others made the Germans their friends and may have even helped them. Because of this, there was a lot of bad feeling, although it was never very clear who was good and who was bad because the collaborators covered their tracks, and even accused their neighbours and friends of the very things they’d done. So innocent people were arrested and suffered for no good reason. This is an example of how dangerous gossip can be.
    Which means those people who said mean things vis-à-vis Mum’s new career should know better. She shouldn’t have to apologise to anyone. All she wanted was to make something out of what Dad left behind. If people thought she was quick off the mark, well, they didn’t know all the facts and who were they to judge? Poor Mum. Perhaps I didn’t support her enough. I didn’t want to ask if she was A-OK because I didn’t want to make her think she had to explain herself to me. When someone is arrested they’re advised