The Book of Ebenezer le Page (68 page)

‘I suppose you know, or don't you?' he said, ‘you have been breaking the law for a considerable number of years.' ‘Have I?' I said. ‘Well, if I have been breaking the law, it is for you to mend the break for me, isn't it? That is what a lawyer is for.' ‘I fear you have a very exalted view of our profession,' he said. ‘I sincerely hope I shall be able to live up to it. At present, I must confess I am completely at a loss.' ‘Why, can't you do it, then?' I said. ‘If that hoard of yours is dug up at this date,' he said, ‘it may well have to be regarded as treasure trove.' ‘What do you mean?' I said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Property of the Crown, possibly,' he said. ‘Property of the Crown!' I said. ‘If it is going to be given to the Queen, for God's sake find out quick and let me know; and I will dig it up and throw it in the sea!' I was on my feet and was trembling and my old heart was thumping.

Mr de Lisle got up and came round the desk. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mr Le Page,' he said. ‘I ought to have known better than to give voice to the worst possibility. The law may not prove as drastic as I suggest.' ‘I want Neville to have those sovereigns,' I said. ‘Yes, yes, I understand,' he said, ‘but calm yourself now.' ‘If you got to pass a little from hand to hand under the table,' I said, ‘then do it and I will pay.' He didn't say he would; but I looked at him and he looked at me; and one Guernseyman understand another. He said I must give him a week at least to consult certain people. There had been an amendment to the law in the matter of gold lately, and he wasn't sure himself just how it stood. He said, ‘For young Neville's sake, as well as for your own now I know you, I will do my utmost to get as much for you as I can.' ‘Thank you: I am sure you will do your best,' I said. He can't help being a crook: he is a lawyer; but at heart he is an honest man.

He put a hand on my shoulder and took me through the outer office where the Fitch girl was sitting, and came with me right to the front door. ‘By the way,' he said, ‘how does Neville react to the prospect?' ‘He don't know,' I said, ‘and he must never know while I am about.' ‘He won't learn of it through me,' he said, ‘or from anyone in my employ.' ‘I am glad to know that,' I said. ‘He comes to see me because he likes coming. He wouldn't come near me, if he thought he was going to get something out of me. He is the last boy to crawl.' ‘I believe you are right there,' he said. ‘Nevertheless, he has been singularly fortunate in getting into your good graces.' He shook hands and wished me good-bye. ‘Until next Friday the same time,' he said; and waved as I went down the steps.

I was disappointed it wasn't settled, and feeling shaky after the excitement; but it wouldn't do for me to get into a state. I used to laugh at my mother's lot because they put D.V. at the bottom of every notice of a meeting; but, when you come to think of it, they was right really. Even if what you want to do is for the best, it is only D.V. I had done all I could. I wasn't going to worry. I was surprised going down the High Street how many people nodded, or called out to me. Half of them I had forgotten, or never known. I noticed the visitors wandering about already, looking like the lost sheep of the House of Israel. I didn't fancy having my dinner in Town, and went straight down to the bus. I wanted to get home. I feel safer at home. Neville said he would bring a frame for my picture; but I couldn't expect him to bring it until the following Thursday. I was sure he would bring it. He was not one to make promises right and left; but, if he gave his word, he would keep it.

The Saturday afternoon I had just finished having my tea, when in walked young Jean Le Boutillier. I mean the father of John and Peter. He is not so young now, and I wish I could say he is the man his father was: but he isn't; and have changed for the worse, I think, since the Occupation. I liked him well enough in those days, even if he did work for the Germans. These days he is doing well, what with growing and summer visitors, and he is a good-living man and goes to the Catholic Church regularly; but when he speak to you he never have a good word to say for anybody. He said he hoped I didn't mind him butting in, but he felt it was his Christian duty to give me a word of warning. The boys had seen me out walking with young Falla from Paradise; and, another time, he himself had seen him down on the beach painting. Was I having him in the house? I said he came along to see me now and again; and was a very good friend of mine. Jean Le Boutillier said I couldn't know what I was doing.

Somebody's boat had been damaged, somebody's car had been pushed over a cliff, shop windows in Town had been smashed, and a boy had been stabbed at the Salerie and it was only by luck he wasn't killed. It wasn't known who actually was the culprits, but Neville Falla was behind it; for if it wasn't him, it was his gang. Jean Le Boutillier said it was as much as his boys' life was worth to be seen talking to Neville: if he caught them, he would lambast them black and blue. I could have told him Neville had nothing to do with the gang now; but I thought to make excuses would only make Jean more suspicious. It was a case of give a dog a bad name. It stuck. ‘He paint nice pictures,' I said. ‘That won't keep the wolf from the door,' he said. ‘He don't paint pictures to keep the wolf from the door,' I said. ‘He paint pictures because he like the island he live on.' I pointed to the one on the mantelpiece; but he didn't look at it. ‘D'you keep any money in the house?' he said. ‘A few shillings,' I said. ‘Then whatever you do, lock your back door when you go to bed,' he said, ‘or he'll be in one night and cosh you on the head for it.' ‘I hope he don't do that,' I said, ‘I don't want him to get himself into trouble over me.' ‘It is a waste of time talking to you,' he said. ‘You have no moral sense.' I thanked him for coming to warn me. He meant well.

The Sunday night I was sitting up to the table writing in my book, when suddenly there was a loud knocking on the back door, and I heard Neville shouting, ‘Hullo there! Are you awake yet?' ‘Yes, yes!' I called out: ‘Come on in!' I was vexed, though, for him to catch me writing my book; but I didn't have time to put it away before he was standing in the doorway, looking down at me. I had never seen him looking so handsome; and he was wearing a well-cut dark blue suit with a blue silk shirt and a red tie. It wasn't a murderer's look on his face, either, but eyes wrinkled up in a most friendly smile. He had the frame under his arm. ‘I have only come to bring this,' he said, ‘I was afraid you might think I had forgotten about it.' ‘I knew you wouldn't forget,' I said. The frame was of smooth painted wood, and much the same colour as parts of the picture. ‘It matches,' I said. He took down the picture from off the mantelpiece and fitted it in. ‘Just right,' he said. ‘Where shall we hang it? What d'you say to on the wall behind the green-bed? Then it can keep an eye on you while you're asleep.' ‘Good,' I said, ‘and it won't keep me awake looking at it.' He had brought some cord and a bracket; and I found him a hammer. The job was done in no time. He is very quick with his hands.

I said I would get him ready a bit of supper, and was hoping to get my book out of the way at the same time, without him noticing it; but he said, ‘Am I interrupting your accounts?' ‘No, it's not accounts,' I said, ‘it's only something I am writing.' I didn't say what it was, but I could see he was curious; and then I thought why on earth should I keep secrets from him, anyway? ‘I will tell you what it is,' I said, ‘but promise you won't tell anybody.' ‘Of course I won't!' he said: ‘you can trust me for that.' ‘This is only one part of it,' I said, ‘the last part'; and I showed him the other two books in the drawer. ‘I wrote it for company really,' I said. ‘I don't expect anybody will ever want to read it. It is my life-story, but have a lot in it about my relations and friends, and people living on Guernsey for the last sixty or seventy years.' ‘I bet you haven't written all you have done in your life,' he said. ‘I know you wouldn't have.' ‘I have tried to put down the worst as well as the best,' I said, ‘but you got to read between the lines.'

He launched off into a long harangue about how lucky us old ones had been. I couldn't see that, myself. He said we had the experience of the First World War and the Occupation and the years between; but his age-group had nothing but the years since, and all they had to look forward to was the Big Bang. I said, ‘Well, perhaps they will put it off.' ‘The threat is always there,' he said. ‘I jibe at the kids; but you can't blame them for not caring what they get up to, when the world they live in might be blown to smithereens tomorrow. It wasn't the same in your time.' I said, ‘Well, no: because Progress hadn't got so far, and wasn't going so fast. I have tried to write down how it was in my time, though I don't know that I have done it very well.' ‘God, I'd like to read that book of yours!' he said. ‘Good gracious, no!' I said. I didn't want him reading what I had written about myself; and, now I came to think of it, there was something about him even in the first book. Otherwise I could have let him have that one, as it is the part which is most about Guernsey in the old days. ‘Why not?' he said, ‘I will take care of it.' ‘It isn't finished yet,' I said, ‘but I tell you what I will do. I am going to give you my book: the whole three parts; but it will only be yours to read after I am gone.' ‘I would rather have you here,' he said. ‘I believe you honestly would,' I said, ‘but I won't always be; and then you can read my book. I am going to put your name on it now and you can come and claim it when the time comes.' On the front page of the first book I had written the title I had decided on at the start. The next page I hadn't written anything on at all. I thought I might put a text, as they do at the beginning of a book sometimes; only I had never been able to think of any words from the Bible that would suit. I now opened the first book to the blank page, and wrote across the middle in capital letters THE PROPERTY OF NEVILLE FALLA.

It was like the old days when I used to have supper with Jim at Les Gigands: I had never imagined it could happen again. It wasn't Neville had much to say while we was eating; but then Jim didn't have much to say either. It was just the room was full of something because he was there. He didn't thank me for my book; but I swear he knew I had given him all my secrets for him to read some day. He is very understanding, is Neville. I felt as much at peace with him as if he knew all my secrets already and I had nothing to hide. I was sure nothing he would read he would let turn him against me. Those deep-set eyes of his was warm and friendly every time they looked my way; and he often looked at me and smiled, rather than say anything; and his hand went out to pass me things, and he cut the bread for me and poured my tea. I thought of how it say in the Bible ‘they broke bread together.'

While we was drinking our last cups of tea, he said, ‘There is somebody else would very much like to come and see you.' ‘Who on earth can that be?' I said. I couldn't think. ‘Adèle de la Rue,' he said, ‘you remember her, don't you? Can I bring her Thursday?' ‘Of course I remember her!' I said. ‘Bring her, bring her! After you, there is nobody I would like to see more.' He said, ‘She says you are not to make any special preparations, if she comes. She will bring stuff for our tea.' ‘Goodness, I can get something for our tea,' I said. Then I wondered if perhaps she would enjoy bringing something; so I said, ‘All right, if she like, she can bring a cake. I am not all that good at making cake.' He said she had been out with him in his car that day; and he had gone back to her place and had tea with her and her aunt. Her aunt was an old so-and-so. He didn't know how Adèle could put up with her.

It was after midnight before he thought of going. He said he had his car down the road, and it wouldn't take him five minutes to get home. I said, ‘Thanks for the frame and everything. Thursday can't come quick enough.' He said I mustn't expect them before three. Adèle had to serve in the shop until one; and he was going to fetch her after her dinner. I said, ‘Bring her to the front door, mind! It is a state visit.' As he was going he turned round with a teasing grin on his face. ‘Now don't you go getting ideas into your head,' he said. ‘It is not you she is coming to see: it is the masterpiece of that promising young painter, Neville Falla!' ‘Fiche le can', té!' I said. He don't know the patois, but he knew what that meant all right, and went off laughing.

The days passed quick. It would have been perfect, if I could have thought the will was safe in the drawer; but something might go wrong yet. I kept busy. I gave the house a good spring clean, and left young Ogier and his wife to carry on out of doors. They wanted to know what had come over me, because I was singing hymns all over the house. I said I was expecting visitors. The Wednesday I worked in the front garden. I pulled up the few weeds, and cleared away all the dead flowers. It looked nice when I had done with it. I thought of having a chancre for tea; but changed my mind and got young Ogier to chase round and find me a couple of fresh lobsters. I thought they would be easier for me to cut up and serve. I couldn't very well have a hammer on the table.

Thursday came and they arrived soon after two. I had cleared up the dinner things, but hadn't had time to lay the tea. It was lucky I had decided to change first. It was a lucky day altogether. I hadn't cut myself shaving that morning, and that is always a good sign. I didn't think I looked too bad either. I had put on a clean white shirt and my best black trousers. I don't have to wear braces, only a belt, for, thank the Lord, I don't have a tummy like so many old men. The first I heard was a loud rat-a-tat-tat on the front door, and Neville's voice, ‘Hi, open up, there!' I opened the door and there she was: the girl I had thought such a lot of when I saw her on the other side of the counter in the States Offices. I considered I ought to be polite. After all, she was a stranger. ‘Come in, Miss de la Rue, if you please,' I said. ‘I am delighted to see you.' ‘Miss de la Rue, who is she?' she said: ‘Adèle to you!' and she gave me both her hands. Neville was grinning all over his face when I pulled her almost in my arms into the kitchen. ‘Welcome to my house, Adèle!' I said.