Where the Memories Lie

 

 

‘But what if the person you’re trying to protect should know the truth? What if they would want to know whatever you’re trying to spare them from?’

 

‘Well, take you, for example. I would want to protect you from harm. If I knew something that could potentially upset you or have a negative impact on your life, as your mother, it’s my job to protect you. I would think of it as a necessary good in some situa-tions.’ I peel the onion and begin chopping, glad for once that it’s making my eyes stream. I want to cry again as I think about the vii

 

Sibel Hodge enormity of everything that’s happened, and the onion will mask it. I sniff. Wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. ‘What else can you think of ?’

 

‘Don’t women lie about their age?’

 

‘Some men do, too. Let’s not be sexist here.’

 

‘Is that good or bad, then?’

 

‘Probably pretty inconsequential, unless it affects someone else.’

 

‘So, there are harmless lies.’ She writes that down and under-lines it a few times. ‘And politicians lie, don’t they?’

 

‘Probably every time they open their mouths.’

 

‘Well, that’s definitely a con.’ I hear her scribbling furiously behind me. ‘They’re supposed to be working for the benefit of their people and they’re lying about a lot of things. That is so hypocritical, too!’

 

My daughter has strong ethics. She’s intelligent and inquisitive.

 

Old and wise beyond her years. I was glad we’d moved on from the Capital Punishment homework she’d had recently because Anna becomes a little obsessed about things sometimes. She works hard at school. Reads a lot of books that are probably beyond her years, but if she feels strongly about something, she’ll go on and on about it. Read about it. Research it on the Internet morning, noon and night. I’d been forced to watch documentaries and films about prisoners on death row for weeks on end. I can now envision being bombarded with research about lying, and I don’t need to be reminded, thanks all the same.

 

‘Don’t people lie on their tax returns?’

 

I smile, despite myself. ‘Yes. And their CVs.’

 

‘That could be an offence, though, couldn’t it? The tax return, I mean.’

 

‘It’s actually how they caught Al Capone in the end.’

 

‘Who’s he?’

 

I wave the knife around. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

 

viii

 

Where the Memories Lie ‘OK, so, that’s actually a bad one, then. If you know your lie is covering up a crime?’

 

My stomach twists. I transfer the onion to the frying pan, put the lid on and wipe my eyes again with my knuckles.

 

‘Isn’t it?’ Anna prompts me again, jerking me out of the thoughts I’m lost in about her. About what happened. How it only takes one split second. One wrong move to make everything implode.

 

I think again about how far I’d go to protect my daughter, my family. The lies I’d tell. And I convince myself again that not all lies are the same.

 

And when the memories lie, sometimes it’s best to let the truth stay hidden.

 

ix

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

By the time they found her remains, I hadn’t thought about her for years. I’d been too busy getting on with my life.

 

A life I thought was normal.