Lucas says, "And you go to sleep, so you can grow bigger."
The child says, "I'll never grow bigger, you know that. The doctor said so."
"You misunderstood, Mathias. You will grow. Not as quickly as the other children, but you will grow."
The child asks, "Why not as quickly?"
"Because everyone is different. You won't be as big as the others, but you'll be more intelligent. Your size isn't important. Only intelligence matters."
Lucas goes out. But instead of going into town he goes down to the river. He sits on the damp grass and stares into the dark, muddy water.
3
Lucas says to Victor, "These children's books are all the same. The stories in them are stupid. They're not good enough for a child of four."
Victor shrugs his shoulders. "What can I do? It's the same for adults. Look. Novels written to the greater glory of the regime. You'd think there weren't any writers left in our country."
Lucas says, "Yes, I know those novels. They're not worth the paper they're printed on. What has happened to the old books?"
"Banned. Disappeared. Pulled out of circulation. You might find some at the library, if it still exists."
"A library here in this town? I never knew there was one. Where is it?"
"The first street on the left after the castle. I can't tell you the name of the street, it keeps changing all the time. They're constantly renaming all the streets."
Lucas says, "I'll find it."
The street that Victor described is empty of people. Lucas waits. An old man comes out of a house. Lucas asks him, "Do you know where the library is?"
The old man points to an old, gray, dilapidated building.
"It's there. But not for much longer, I think. It seems like they're moving out. Every week a truck arrives to take away a load of books."
Lucas goes into the gray building. He goes down a long, dark corridor, which ends at a glass-paneled door with a rusted plaque reading PUBLIC LIBRARY.
Lucas knocks. A woman's voice replies, "Come in!"
Lucas enters a huge room lit by the setting sun. A gray-haired woman is sitting behind a desk. She asks, "What do you want?"
"I'd like to borrow some books."
The woman takes off her glasses and looks at Lucas.
"Borrow some books? Since I've been here no one has come to borrow books."
"Have you been here long?"
"For two years. It's my job to put this place in order. I have to sort out the books and eliminate any that are on the index."
"What happens then? What do you do with them?"
"I put them in boxes and they are taken off to be pulped."
"Are there many books on the index?"
"Almost all of them."
Lucas looks at the large boxes filled with books.
"It's a sad job you've got."
She asks, "Do you like books?"
"I've read all the priest's books. He has a lot, but some of them aren't very interesting."
She smiles. "I can believe that."
"I've also read the ones you can buy in the shops. They are even less interesting."
She smiles again. "What sort of books would you like to read?"
"The books on the index."
She puts her glasses back on. She says, "I'm sorry, that's impossible. Go away now."
Lucas doesn't move. She repeats, "I told you to go away."
Lucas says, "You look like my mother."
"In her younger days, I trust."
"No. My mother was younger than you when she died."
She says, "Forgive me. I'm sorry."
"My mother still had dark hair. You have gray hair and you wear glasses."
The woman gets up. "It's five o'clock. I'm closing."
Out in the street Lucas says, "I'll walk with you. Let me carry your basket. It looks very heavy."
They walk in silence. Near the station, at a small, low house, she stops.
"I live here. Thank you. What is your name?"
"Lucas."
"Thank you, Lucas."
She takes back her basket. Lucas asks, "What's inside it?"
"Charcoal briquettes."
The next day, late in the afternoon, Lucas returns to the library. The gray-haired woman is sitting at her desk.
Lucas says, "You forgot to lend me a book yesterday."
"I told you it's impossible."
Lucas takes a book from one of the big boxes.
"Let me take just one. This one."
She raises her voice. "You haven't even looked at the title. Put that book back in the box and leave!"
Lucas puts the book back in the box.
"Don't get angry. I won't take a book. I'll wait till you close."
"You'll do no such thing! Get out of here, you damn troublemaker! It's disgraceful, at your age!" She starts sobbing. "When will they stop spying on me, watching me, suspecting me?"
Lucas leaves the library. He sits on the steps of the house opposite. He waits. Shortly after five o'clock the woman comes out, smiling.
"Forgive me. I'm so afraid. Afraid all the time. Of everyone."
Lucas says, "I won't ask you for any more books. I came back only because you remind me of my mother." He takes a photo from his pocket. "Look."
She looks at the photo. "I can't see any resemblance. Your mother is young, beautiful, elegant."
Lucas asks, "Why do you wear flat-heeled shoes, and that colorless dress? Why do you go around like an old woman?"
She says, "I'm thirty-five years old."
"My mother was that old in the photo. You could at least dye your hair."
"My hair went white in the space of a single night. It was the night they hanged my husband for high treason. That was three years ago."
She hands her basket to Lucas.
"Walk with me."
Outside her house, Lucas asks, "Can I come in?"
"No one comes into my house."
"Why?"
"I don't know anyone in this town."
"You know me now."
She smiles. "Yes. Come in, Lucas."
In the kitchen, Lucas says, "I don't know your name. I don't want to call you 'madame.' " "My name is Clara. You can carry the basket into the bedroom and empty it next to the stove. I'll make some tea."
Lucas empties the charcoal briquettes into a wooden box. He goes to the window; he sees the small, overgrown garden, and beyond that a railway embankment infested with weeds.
Clara comes into the room.
"I forgot to buy sugar."
She puts a tray on the table. She comes up to Lucas.
"It's quiet here. There are no trains anymore."
Lucas says, "It's a nice house."
"It's a civil service house. It used to belong to some people who fled the country."
"The furniture too?"
"The furniture in this room, yes. The furniture in the other room is mine. My bed, my desk, my bookcase."
Lucas asks, "Can I see your room?"
"Another time, perhaps. Come and drink your tea."
Lucas takes a sip of bitter tea, then says, "I have to go, I've got work to do. But I could come back later."
She says, "No, don't come back. I go to bed very early to save on charcoal."
When Lucas gets home, Yasmine and Mathias are in the kitchen. Yasmine says, "The little one wouldn't go to bed without you. I've already fed the animals, and I've milked the goats."
Lucas tells Mathias a story. Then he goes to the priest's house.
Finally he goes back to the little house on Station Street. There are no lights on.
Lucas waits in the street. Clara comes out of the library. She hasn't got her basket. She says to Lucas, "Surely you don't intend to wait for me every day?" "Why not? Does it bother you?"
"Yes. It's stupid and pointless."
Lucas says, "I'd like to walk back with you."
"I haven't got my basket. Besides, I'm not going straight home. I've got some s
hopping to do."
Lucas asks, "Can I come around later this evening?"
"No!"
"Why not? It's Friday today. You don't have to work tomorrow. You don't have to go to bed early."
Clara says, "That's enough! Don't interest yourself in me, or the time I go to bed. Stop waiting for me and following me like a little dog."
"So I won't see you until Monday?"
She sighs and shakes her head. "Not on Monday, not on any day. Stop pestering me, Lucas, please. What do you want from me?"
Lucas says, "I like seeing you. Even in your old dress and with your gray hair."
"Don't be impertinent!"
Clara turns on her heel and heads off in the direction of the main square. Lucas follows her.
Clara goes into a clothes shop, then into a shoe shop. Lucas waits a long time. Then she goes into a grocery shop. She is fully laden as she sets off down the road to Station Street. Lucas catches up with her.
"Let me help you."
Clara speaks without stopping. "Don't bother me! Go away! Don't let me see you again!"
"Very well, Clara. You won't see me again."
Lucas goes home. Yasmine says to him, "Mathias is already in bed."
"Already? Why?" "I think he's sulking."
Lucas goes into Grandmother's room.
"Are you asleep, Mathias?"
The child doesn't answer. Lucas leaves the room. Yasmine asks, "Will you be back late this evening?"
"It's Friday."
She says, "We make enough from the garden and the animals. You should stop playing in the bars, Lucas. It's not worth spending the whole night there for the few pennies you earn."
Lucas doesn't answer. He does his evening chores and goes to the priest's house.
The priest says, "We haven't played chess for ages."
Lucas says, "I'm very busy at the moment."
He goes into town, enters a bar, plays the harmonica. He drinks. He drinks in all the bars in town, and goes back to Clara's house.
At the kitchen window there is a crack of light through the curtains. Lucas walks around the block, then comes back along the railway line. He goes into Clara's garden. On this side the curtains are thinner; Lucas makes out two silhouettes in the room where he was yesterday. A man paces up and down in the room. Clara is leaning on the stove. The man approaches her, withdraws, approaches her again. He is speaking. Lucas hears his voice but can't make out the words.
The two silhouettes join. They stay like that a long time. They separate. The light goes on in the bedroom. The living room is now empty.
When Lucas goes to the other window, the light goes out.
Lucas goes back to the front of the house. Hidden in the shadows, he waits.
Early in the morning a man leaves Clara's house and walks off quickly. Lucas follows him. The man goes into one of the houses in the main square.
Back home, Lucas goes into the kitchen for a drink of water. Yasmine comes out of Grandmother's room.
"I waited for you all night. It's six o'clock in the morning. Where were you?"
"In the street."
"What's wrong, Lucas?"
She reaches out a hand to touch his face. Lucas brushes it away, walks out of the kitchen, and locks himself in his room.
On Saturday evening, Lucas goes from one bar to another. The people are drunk and generous.
Suddenly, through a cloud of smoke, Lucas sees her. She is sitting alone, near the entrance; she is drinking red wine. Lucas sits at her table.
"Clara! What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to be with people."
"These people?"
"Any people. I can't stay in the house alone, always alone."
"You weren't alone yesterday evening."
Clara doesn't reply, she pours some wine, she drinks. Lucas takes the glass from her hands.
"You've had enough!"
She laughs. "No. I've never had enough. I want to drink and go on drinking."
"Not here! Not with them!"
Lucas grips Clara's wrist. She looks at him, she murmurs, "I was looking for you."
"You didn't want to see me."
She doesn't reply; she turns her head away.
The customers are demanding some music.
Lucas throws some coins onto the table. "Come!"
He takes Clara by the arm, he leads her to the exit. Remarks and rude laughter follow them out.
Outside, it is raining. Clara staggers; she trips on her high heels. Lucas virtually has to carry her.
In her room, she falls onto the bed. She shivers. Lucas takes off her shoes and covers her up. He goes into the other room. He lights a fire in the stove that warms up the two rooms. He makes some tea in the kitchen. He brings two cups.
Clara says, "There's some rum in the kitchen cupboard."
Lucas brings the rum. He pours some into the cups.
Clara says, "You're too young to drink."
Lucas says, "I'm twenty. I learned to drink at the age of twelve."
Clara closes her eyes. "I'm almost old enough to be your mother."
Later she says, "Stay here. Don't leave me alone."
Lucas sits at the desk, he looks around the room. Apart from the bed, there is only the big desk and a small shelf of books. He looks at the books. They are of no interest; he is familiar with them.
Clara sleeps. Her arm is hanging out of the bed. Lucas takes hold of the arm. He kisses the back of the hand, then the palm. He licks it, running his tongue up to her elbow. Clara doesn't move.
It is warm now. Lucas pulls back the eiderdown. Clara's body lies before him, white and black. While Lucas was in the kitchen, Clara took off her skirt and sweater. Now Lucas takes off her black stockings, her black suspenders, her black bra. He covers up her white body with the eiderdown. Then he burns her underwear in the stove in the next room. He pulls up an armchair and settles down next to the bed. He notices a book on the ground. He looks at it. It is an old, worn-out book. The flyleaf bears the library stamp. Lucas reads. The hours pass.
Clara begins to moan. Her eyes remain closed, her face is covered with sweat. She tosses her head from side to side on the pillow and mutters incomprehensibly.
Lucas goes into the kitchen, dampens a cloth and lays it on Clara's forehead. Her mutterings turn into screams.
Lucas shakes her to wake her up. She opens her eyes.
"In the desk drawer. Tranquilizers. A white box."
Lucas finds the tranquilizers. Clara takes two with the remains of the cold tea. She says, "It's nothing. It's always the same nightmare."
She closes her eyes. When her breathing becomes regular, Lucas leaves. He takes the book.
He walks slowly in the rain through the deserted streets to Grandmother's house, on the other side of town.
On Sunday afternoon, Lucas goes back to Clara's house. He knocks on the kitchen door.
Clara asks, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Lucas."
Clara opens the door. She looks pale. She is wearing an old red dressing gown.
"What do you want?"
Lucas says, "I was passing by. I just wondered if you were all right."
"Yes, I feel fine."
Her hand, which holds the door, is trembling.
Lucas says, "Forgive me. I was afraid."
"Of what? You don't need to be afraid on my account."
Lucas whispers, "Clara, please, let me in."
Clara shakes her head. "You're very persistent, Lucas. Come in, then, and have some coffee."
They sit in the kitchen, they drink coffee.
Clara asks, "What happened last night?"
"You don't remember?"
"No. I've been receiving treatment since the death of my husband. The medication I'm on sometimes has a disastrous effect on my memory."
"I brought you home from the bar. If you're under medication you should stay off alcohol."
She buries her face in her hands. "You can't imagine what I've
been through."
Lucas says, "I know the pain of separation."
"The death of your mother."
"And something else besides. The loss of a brother who was as one with me."
Clara raises her head. She looks at Lucas.
"We too, Thomas and I, we were a single being. They killed him. Did they also kill your brother?"
"No. He went away. He went across the border."
"Why didn't you go with him?"
"One of us had to stay behind to look after the animals, the garden, Grandmother's house. We also had to learn to live without each other. Alone."
Clara rests her hand on Lucas's.
"What is his name?"
"Claus." "He'll come back. Thomas will never come back."
Lucas gets up. "Do you want me to light the fire in the room? Your hands are frozen."
Clara says, "That would be nice. I'll make some pancakes. I haven't eaten anything today."
Lucas cleans the stove. There is no trace of the black underwear. He lights the fire and comes back into the kitchen.
"There's no charcoal left."
Clara says, "I'll go and get some from the cellar." She picks up a tin bucket.
Lucas says, "Let me do it."
"No! There's no light. I know my way."
Lucas sits in the armchair in the living room. He takes Clara's book out of his pocket. He reads.
Clara brings in the pancakes.
Lucas asks, "Who is he, your lover?"
"You spied on me?"
Lucas says, "It was for him that you bought the black underwear, it was for him that you wore high heels. You should have dyed your hair while you were at it."
Clara says, "That's none of your business. What are you reading?"
Lucas hands her the book.
"I borrowed it from you yesterday. I liked it very much."
"You had no right to take it away with you. I have to return it to the library."
"Don't be angry, Clara. I'm sorry."
Clara turns away.
"What about my underwear? Did you borrow that, too?"
"No. I burned it."
"You burned it? What gave you the right?"
Lucas gets up.
"I think it's best if I leave."
"Yes, go on. They're expecting you."
"Who's expecting me?"
"A wife and child, by all accounts."
"Yasmine is not my wife."
"She's been living with you for four years with her child."
The Book of Lies Page 14
