there was a space at the end for more names to be added, when new information came out. This list proved (Dad said) that Guernsey people didn’t just SUFFER IN SILENCE47 during the Occupation.
The plaque is now part of the harbour wall, and I should feel very proud of it/Dad, only I can’t be because of what he did.
I was in the crowd with Mum, and Dad was on the platform with the Bailiff.48 After a little introduction by said Bailiff, Dad was meant to give a speech about the bravery of families during the War and the unsung heroes who were put in prison for no good reason, and how the past was not behind us but all around us and still shaping us, etc. Only he totally embarrassed himself and the Bailiff had to jump in front of him, giving the cord a quick tug and going: ‘How splendid! Look at that!’
Dad disappeared behind the camera flashes, leaving me with Mum in the crush of people. She dragged me off to the car because she was so embarrassed, and I was too scared to ask her what was wrong. Then she told me it was nothing and that Dad was just Emotional because of the big unveiling.
It was only when I found the bottles that I realised Emotional was code for Drunk.
I know drinking is bad for you. Nic and I both drank too much but she was the hypocrite – blaming me for giving alcohol to Michael. I did call the police and tell them about the various whiskies he’d drunk before his accident and I’m very très glad I did. The duty sergeant promptly told me that an empty bottle of Absolut had been found in Michael’s jacket. I went and reported all of this back to Nic and do you know what? She told me I was acting very guilty for someone who’d done nothing wrong.
I don’t know if she fancied Michael. I don’t know if I care. He’s not the reason I killed her, but I need to tell him that I killed her. Michael’s the one person I can 100% trust. I met him today, just like we’d arranged, and it was amazing. He was waiting for me by the cemetery gates, looking ruggedly sinister. I was wearing one of Dad’s old shirts which I’d tie-dyed dark purple. It matched my Clobber Box leggings and cropped denim jacket. Michael was meant to notice how much thinner I looked and how much longer my fringe was. I wanted him to make some comment about how he hardly recognised me. But he didn’t.
He just said: ‘How are you?’
His voice sounded different to how I remembered.
‘Fine, and you?’
‘Oh, you know.’
Of course I didn’t know, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched himself over like a tortoise going into its shell.
‘When did you get back?’
‘Last week. So I missed all the excitement, eh?’
I nodded.
He kicked at the ground.
‘Shall we walk for a bit? I’m slow but the doctors say I’ve got to walk every day.’
I said that was fine, and that I was in no hurry.
We took the path down through the cemetery and climbed over the low fence at the back to get into Bluebell Woods. Michael managed really well. I asked him about Southampton and whether he’d liked it there and would go again, and what hospital food had tasted like, and what parts of his body still hurt. He answered back in a quiet voice, and sometimes paused and looked about. It turns out there’s a big cinema in the town centre, he didn’t like it much, hospital food was mostly wood-pulp and he might need another operation in a year.
‘We all thought you were going to die and Nic and Lisa blamed me because I saw you last. I’d given you a lot to drink but you maybe won’t remember. I wished I could’ve done something. All I could think about was how I’d climbed up the Pleinmont Tower with you that time and what a long way down it was.’
Michael nodded. ‘They reckon I was lucky but after all these months it doesn’t feel that way.’
‘Well, you missed a lot of really bad stuff, what with Nic dying so horribly.’
Michael laughed a bit too loudly.
By now we’d walked down to where the cliff path starts, it was quite uneven and I was hoping he’d want to take my arm or lean against me. He didn’t. I suppose I should