Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

‘Our fathers were talking about sabotaging the war effort.’

‘And our so- called Jewish heritage?’

‘I thought it was more or less what the Gestapo man wanted to

hear. It was a means of getting where I needed to be.’

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‘It was a lie. We weren’t a Jewish family.’

He looks at her and says, ‘I didn’t know whether or not there was

Jewish blood in your family. I suppose I shouldn’t have done it. It was just . . . necessary. He insisted I say it.’

‘That’s not the point. Whether or not we were Jewish. I’d be

happy to be thought of as Jewish, even though I’m not. I’m proud

to be associated with that suffering. I feel proud of this.’ Since moving to Britain she has been careful to wear long- sleeved clothes, and especially so since living in the same house as him, but now she

pulls up her sleeve and thrusts her forearm towards him, showing

the number with the triangle. He is expressionless. ‘The point is

that your saying anything at all was wrong. It made no difference

whether or not we were Jews. Whatever excuses you may prepare

about your immaturity, you were responsible for what you said.’

He looks at her as if he cannot comprehend what she has said. ‘It

wouldn’t have made any difference if I’d said nothing.’

‘But you didn’t say nothing.’

‘Your father and my father were conspiring against the state. I

told no lies about that.’

‘They were conspiring against evil. You chose to conspire

with it.’

‘I was fourteen years old, for God’s sake. How was I to calculate

all these things?’

Just for a few moments neither of them speaks. It seems that

Elisabeth is spent. But she finds her voice again.

‘I’m curious. You don’t feel guilt?’

‘About what?’

‘Any of it. Me, my family. Your parents. Roy Courtnay. Bob

Mannion.’

‘Guilt. That’s a very difficult emotion. No.’

‘No. You don’t, do you?’

‘It was . . .’

‘Expedient?’

‘That’s rather harsh. It was what I had to do. I had no options. Or I thought I didn’t. I had to do it to survive. You know all about that.’

‘And afterwards?’

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‘Afterwards. Then it was in the past. It couldn’t be undone. I

hadn’t made any of it happen. I had just . . . I had just . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Taken the opportunities that presented themselves. That’s not

so terrible, is it?’

‘And now?’

‘I’m an old man. What’s done is done. I can’t put things right.

What point would there have been in torturing myself with guilt?’

‘I didn’t realize that to feel guilt was an elective decision.’

‘What is it you want from me? Money? I don’t understand.’

She is calmer now, calibrating her voice to a lower pitch and speaking with deliberation. ‘I know. You fail to understand a great deal.

You fail to understand that I may not want anything at all from you.

That there may be no bargain to be struck. There may be no price to pay. I’ve had a change of plan too. Let me tell you something.’

He looks at her but does not speak.

‘When my husband died, I was lost. I’ve no way of judging

whether I was more desolate than any other widow who’s just lost

her husband, but in my mind I went straight back to the end of the

war. You might imagine that liberation was a happy moment, but it

gave me a sense of my fragility and impermanence. An empty vista

of fear. When Alasdair died I had the same fear. I had to discover

meaning. I wasn’t about to find it in religion – I think we can both agree on that. So it had to be something else. Finally I thought I’d found it. The search for the truth, and a reckoning of sorts.’

‘Which is why we’re here,’ he says quietly.

‘Yes. Quite comical in a way,’ she says, ‘two ancient turkeys, their necks creased and wobbling, jabbering away about things that are

all but forgotten. The lessons at least. Scratching for meaning. It rather underlines our irrelevance, wouldn’t you say?’

His eyes flare. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Where were we? Yes, what do I want? It rather evolved, I should

say, as we began to make headway. First of all I simply wanted to

know, then we discovered more or less the truth of that. We knew

it had been you, Hans, and no one else. The challenge then was to

follow your trail. You’re an elusive man.’

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He musters a wry smile and says, ‘Story of my life.’

‘Indeed,’ she says sardonically. ‘It wasn’t so difficult. I won’t take you through it all. But I think we managed to cover most of your

escapades and scrapes. Do you have any mock modesty to dis-

play now?’

He shakes his head.

‘I thought not. Our little search obtained a life of its own as it

gathered momentum. Gerald in particular was like a dog with a

bone. He can be a vindictive man. Most surprising for such a mild

person. Not one to cross. And finally there you were, clear as day.

Roy Courtnay. Vincent was most helpful filling in the details we’d

missed.’

‘Vincent?’ he says in surprise.

‘Yes. Our private detective chappy tracked him down quite easily

once we’d met him. We wondered whether it was worth trying to

have a quiet word with him. Certainly, once we’d established his

antecedents. Did you know his grandfather was a Jewish émigré

from Poland just before the Second World War? Probably not. Ste-

phen did an excellent job of chatting him up and he was more than

happy to oblige. It’s been a bit of a redemption for him. He filled in several of the gaps.’

Hans slumps but looks defiantly at her.

‘We’d found you and we were stuck as mere historians. So we

employed our private detective, a nice young man from Chingford.

He managed to root out all kinds of stuff. Quite remarkable. You

hardly left your flat, but you were heavily involved in internet dating. You can see the direction in which we’re heading. There was a

big, how shall we put it, throughput. Our chap diligently located

many of the prospective partners you’d met and later discarded, and interviewed them. Did you know you once got through five in a single month? I’m actually quite surprised there’s such a large supply line of lonely old women.’

Roy grimaces as Elisabeth continues cheerily.

‘You’ll be familiar with the picture that emerged. Most ladies you

rejected after the first meeting. The ones you met for a second time were of interest. You wanted to advance the relationship very

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rapidly and were fascinated by their financial positions. Nicely

dressed up as due diligence before you committed yourself. Each

time it seemed that either the lady didn’t meet your criteria or she somehow felt uneasy about you. That was the basis of the plan we

formulated. I was keen to come into direct contact with you again,

but at that point lacked that total certainty, despite all the evidence, that you were Hans Taub. So the solution was quite simple.’

‘Meet me through internet dating.’

‘Exactly. Quite neat, don’t you agree? We mapped out a basic

plan. I rented this little cottage on a long- term lease and moved in, ready to see how it went. And I think hook, line and sinker is the

right expression, don’t you? Gerald later came up with the idea of