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Back The Guardian of Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. CHAPTER ONE
  4. CHAPTER TWO
  5. CHAPTER THREE
  6. CHAPTER FOUR
  7. CHAPTER FIVE
  8. CHAPTER SIX
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT
  11. CHAPTER NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE
  15. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  20. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  21. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  42. CHAPTER FORTY
  43. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. ‘The Survivors’ Ad
  54. ‘The Betrayal’ Ad
  55. ‘The Liberation’ Ad
  56. Copyright

I pulled over and climbed out of the car, stretching my limbs, and drew great lungfuls of the breeze that smelled like nowhere else on earth. It carried in it the salty earth of the Camargue, the wide delta of the Rhône, the rustle of the tall reeds and the warm musky scent of the hides of the wild bulls and horses that roamed the landscape here. I gazed out across the flat marshy fields and watched a pair of white egrets rise into the crystal-clear air, weightless as ghosts, as they drifted south towards the salt lagoons. I felt my heartbeat slow. It knew it had come home, even while my mind insisted I was now a hardened Parisian, here for one purpose only: to find my brother and the person who tried to kill him, and to put my family back together again.

I heard a noisy snort and a sturdy white stallion emerged from the shade of a cluster of tamarisk trees, while his harem of eight mares hung back in the shadows. He tossed his cream mane at me, pawing the ground with his wide front hoof, designed to thrive on marshland.

I started to cry. Silent relentless tears because of what I’d done and what I’d not done. In this familiar landscape my failure lay all around me, because in every tree, every velvety stretch of grassland and in every splash of sunlight on the glassy surface of the cool ponds I saw the pale ghosts of us children. Flitting in and out of sight. I caught glimpses of my brothers everywhere. When the crying was over I climbed back into the car and drove to the Mas Caussade.

Nothing had changed while I’d been gone. I’d turned my back on the Camargue and it hadn’t even noticed.

*

The house hadn’t changed. It stared back at me. Square, solid, part of the landscape. It stood in the middle of nowhere, flanked by my father’s fields that stretched out of sight in every direction.

I drove up the long dirt drive in a cloud of dust, chest tight, heart racing, terrified of what news awaited me. It was a traditional Camarguais mas or farmhouse, built of local stone, two storeys, facing south. Its back was squarely facing north to offer protection from the cold ferocious blasts of the mistral wind that could rip your roof off if it put its mind to it. No windows on that side of the house, just a blank wall to keep out the danger.

Was I a danger?

Did the house need a blank wall between its occupants and me?