Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

‘You have to look after yourself. I’ve seen a lot in my lifetime. You don’t get to our age without having a history, do you?’

It is not a question and she has heard this refrain before, despite his reluctance to talk about his past and his occasional contradictory insistence that he has led a humdrum life. He could at least make

the effort to be consistent. Evidently he sees her as the gullible type.

He barrels on regardless. ‘Maybe I’ve seen more than you. I’m

glad you’ve led a sheltered life, truly I am. You wouldn’t have wanted to see some of the things I have. But then again I’ve learned about preserving the important things in life. You have to look after

all you’ve worked to secure. Your assets, your interests, your fam-

ily. You’ll want to leave a future for Michael, and Stephen and

Emma, when you, I mean . . . Let’s face it, we both have to be real-istic. We’re well into that age when at any moment . . .’

She smiles meekly at him, as if he were reading the weather

forecast from his newspaper.

‘I mean, if at any stage you’d like a word with Vincent . . .’

But for now he is gone to settle whatever affairs are to be settled, and she has some breathing space.

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Stephen is with her. His offer to drive Roy to his home was

brusquely declined.

‘Piece of cake. Wouldn’t mind a lift to the station, but then

change at Reading, cab from Paddington and Bob’s your uncle. I

probably won’t be back until tomorrow. Lots to sort out.’

The air is easier without him, which is not in the least surprising.

There seems to be a sustained exhalation as they potter in the kit-

chen and there is almost a relaxed elegance in their counterpoint

movements around the house. He grinds coffee beans at the counter

as she washes parsley. As she turns to cut the herbs, he moves with perfect timing to the cupboard to locate the cafetière. He pours the boiling water from the kettle as she reaches for the biscuit tin. They complete this wordless choreography by walking together into the

lounge and settling by the pile of Saturday broadsheets, she in her upright chair, he sprawling somewhat on the sofa.

The herbs are drying on kitchen paper for the omelette she will

cook for their lunch in an hour or so. Then they may go out for a

short drive into the countryside before he deals with his emails and a few other pressing IT matters at the kitchen table. She may have a nap in her chair or perhaps simply listen to Bach with her eyes

closed. They have talked of ordering in an Indian meal in the even-

ing. Roy cannot abide spicy food, so this will be a treat.

2

Vincent opens his mouth but does not speak. He seems to be work-

ing his way up to something. Eventually he says, ‘Why are you

doing this, Roy? You can do without the bother. You must be well

enough off. You can’t need the money.’

Well, a little disclosure will do no harm, at this stage in his life. It will be good to explain, if only to Vincent, his only legatee so to speak in this world.

‘I can always do with more,’ he replies. ‘You can never have too

much cash. Besides, it’s what I do. I do it because I can, because I’m good at it. And these people. These stupid complacent people. They

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don’t know what it is like to suffer. They sit at the centre of their own lives, warm and cosy. They need shaking up.’

He could have added, it’s a weakness, a compulsion. The pains-

taking construction of the lie and its intricate underpinnings: they make the adrenalin flow. In a previous life he was taught not to

show joy at getting away with the big lie, and to avoid the urge to embroider to within an inch of believability just for the thrill of mocking the mark. One big lie is all you ever need, he knows

through experience, and to feel the joy solely internally is gratifying enough. It’s necessary not to ignore the endgame; but that’s not

where the sense of accomplishment lies for Roy. It’s in the execu-

tion, the act of deception. But Vincent wouldn’t understand. He’s a singularly joyless person.

‘They’re nice enough people,’ he continues quickly, ‘of their sort.

Privileged, smug, small- minded. You’ll get to meet them. You’ll

probably like her. I do.’

‘And yet it doesn’t stop you?’ says Vincent

‘Why should it? It’s an important lesson for her. Albeit at a rather advanced age. I like her, but I only know her because she presented herself. From the get- go. In my time I’ve had to . . . deal with . . .

plenty of people who’ve been pleasant enough.’

It is not imperative, though, to do this; he could scrape by on

what he has left, though it has dwindled alarmingly over the past

few years. But this is where he derives his satisfaction and while he likes her he also sneers at her. And as for her dreadful family, good grief.

They return to the business at hand, after the rather embarrass-

ing partial opening- up. No, on reflection disclosure is not a good thing, thinks Roy. It doesn’t salve the soul. It invites questions, not least from oneself, and upsets the certainty at which one has arrived.

At his age he can do without such perturbations.

Vincent will be called in when Roy has been able to persuade

Betty that she needs his advice. This will take some tenacity, though he has started along the way. He runs through who else Betty may

wish to have there: with luck the callow Stephen, with slightly less luck her son, Michael. Both should, ultimately, be manageable. Roy

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takes some care in prescribing how Vincent should present himself,

his demeanour and even the clothes he should wear. Vincent is not

offended; he knows well Roy’s attention to detail and that, gener-

ally, he is right.

They run through the basic script. It can only be an outline since

they will need to extemporize considerably, not least to deal with

queries that Betty may have. Roy reinforces the key messages and

the boundaries beyond which they must not stray. There are some

tricky areas that have to be gone over more than once, mainly con-

cerning how to manoeuvre Betty into entering into it all jointly

with Roy. Vincent and Roy could manage separate accounts, but

this would involve more technical wizardry than they would prefer

and expose the whole venture to greater risk than normally

acceptable.

Finally, they tackle the information technology issues. The

accounts are already set up and Roy has tested online access dis-

creetly on the slim tablet computer that he keeps concealed in his

bedroom at Betty’s. Roy explains that when it comes to the moment

he wants, for the sake of dramatic verisimilitude, them both to

transfer funds to a joint account in their names in an obscure off-

shore financial institution. Vincent feels that this may be problematic but realizes that Roy, as ever, wants to do things with a flourish. He emphasizes just how important it is for Roy to shift the funds on

from there at the earliest opportunity. The endgame will then be on them and he will need to have made his next plans in advance, ready to deploy immediately.

They may well not have a further opportunity to confer at length

before the wheels are in motion. After that their chances to talk may be snatched and unreliable, so it is important that both are entirely clear on the collective vision and contingencies should events take an unexpected turn. With Betty, Roy will want to maintain the