Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

just a child. My little Lili. I never meant . . .’

He has missed the act. Somewhere along the way he must have

dropped off. Weber is noting, with approval, the honourable lady’s

speech. As she leaves the chamber she passes the newly ennobled

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Martin in his ermine, who taps her arm and says, ‘Always did have a nice pair on you, Maureen. Should have been with me, not that

nobody Roy.’

And dark again, and silent. And now so very cold. The English,

they never heat their stately homes. He looks across. There she

is, Marlene or whatever she wants to call herself, in a nurse’s uniform, giving him an eyeful of that soft peach silk. Must get back on that train, though. Bleeding freezing. Time to go. Everybody gets it in the end. No use crying over spilt blood. Get on with it. Not a propitious time for weakness. His fingers are numb. He can’t light his fag. Come on, Bob. Just fucking get on with it. Sylvia’s waiting. Yeah, the ice maiden. No wonder Tommy plays for the other team. He

shivers, and sniffs his fingers. A play. That’s what Lili called it. And she was right. Time now for the final play. One last hustle. Our

Father, Who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name . . . how does it

go again?

Lili

Mother

Father

So cold. So frightened. Forgive me.

Ich . . .

If anyone had been there to hold Hans Taub’s hand and to witness

his passing, they would have reflected that he died peacefully in his sleep with a smile on his face. As it was, there was a minor crisis in the ward at the time and it was not until twenty minutes later that it was discovered that the nice old man in the corner bed away from the window was no longer with them.

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1

Elisabeth’s family are by her bedside. At first Stephen feels like an intruder.

She is in a single room, tastefully furnished in modern light

wood. She is connected to various pieces of equipment by means of

cables and tubes. Flowers in vases all around the room imbue it

with a cloying sweetness, but he knows how much she loves fresh

flowers so it must be to her taste.

She is conscious and seemingly alert. Her children, their partners

and her grandchildren turn to him and he introduces himself.

Andrew knows him, of course.

‘Now then,’ she says brightly enough, though without her nor-

mal vivacity. ‘Would you kindly allow me a few private minutes

with this handsome young man?’

They obey without a word and pass him with expressions that

vacillate between weary anticipatory grief and welcoming, down-

cast smiles. They look bewildered. She beckons him forward and he

sits at the chair beside the bed. He takes her hand and she smiles.

‘Sweet Stephen,’ she says.

‘Are you in pain?’ he asks.

‘A little. But I’ve asked them not to dope me up with morphine.

I’ve managed to keep my marbles until now, so why should I choose

to lose them in my final few days?’

He smiles.

‘There’s no need for you to cry,’ she says. ‘On my account at least.

For yourself, perhaps. But I died during the war. All those things

that happened to me. I became indifferent. Their prophecy had

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come true. I had become subhuman. I was dead. Then, when I left

the camps, I lived again. I’ve had a marvellous life. Death, then

rebirth. That’s what my life has been. And who knows, I may yet

live again, in another unknown dimension. I doubt it somehow,’ she

adds quietly, as if considering a conundrum. ‘And Hans is definitely gone?’

She knows, but requires confirmation.

‘Hans died more than eighteen months ago,’ he reassures her.

‘Yes, of course. It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it?’ she says in apparent puzzlement.

‘What is?’

‘That there are people like him in the world. But there are. So

many of them. So unhappy. Just be glad you’re not one of them.’

They talk for a few minutes longer and he realizes it is time for

him to go. If she is to belong to anyone, he thinks, it should be her family.

As he stands, she says, ‘Platitudes are best at such moments. Let’s not go searching for profundity. It’s been lovely to see you again, Stephen. You look so well.’

She nods at him, prompting.

‘And you too, Elisabeth,’ he lies obediently. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ she says, and he turns decisively towards the door.

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