PART Ⅳ-4

  IdrovebacktotheGee,dumpedthethegarage,andhadalatecupoftea.AsitwasSundaythebarwouldn’topenforanotherhourortwo.Inthecooloftheevenioutandstrolledupinthedireofthechurch.

  Iwasjustcrossingthemarket-placewhenInoticedawomanwalkingalittlewayaheadofme.AssoonasIseteyesonherIhadamostpeculiarfeelingthatI’dseenhersomewherebefore.Youknowthatfeeling.Icouldn’tseeherface,ofcourse,andsofarasherbackviewwenttherewasnothingIcouldidentifyaIcouldhaveswornIknewher.

  ShewentuptheHighStreetandturneddowheside-streetstht,theonewhereUncleEzekielusedtohavehisshop.Ifollowed.Idon’tquiteknowwhy—partlycuriosity,perhaps,andpartlyasakindofprecaution.MyfirstthoughthadbeenthathereatlastwasohepeopleI’dknownintheolddaysinLowerBinfield,butalmostatthesamemomentitstruckmethatitwasjustaslikelythatshewassomeonefromWestBletchley.InthatcaseI’dhavetowatchmystep,becauseifshefoundoutIwashereshe’dprobablysplittoHilda.SoIfollowedcautiously,keepingatasafedistandexaminingherbackviewaswellasIcould.Therewasnothingstrikingaboutit.Shewasatallish,fattishwoman,mighthavebeenfortyorfifty,inarathershabbyblackdress.She’dnohaton,asthoughshe’djustslippedoutofherhouseforamoment,andthewayshewalkedgaveyoutheimpressionthathershoesweredownatheel.Allinall,shelookedabitofaslut.Aherewasnothingtoidentify,onlythatvaguesomethingwhiewI’dseenbefore.Itwassomethinginhermovements,perhaps.Presentlyshegottoalittlesapershop,thekindoflittleshopthatalwayskeepsopenonaSunday.Thewomanwhokeptitwasstandinginthedoorway,doingsomethingtoastandofpostcards.Mywomanstoppedtopassthetimeofday.

  Istoppedtoo,assoonasIcouldfindashopwindowwhichIcouldpretendtobelookinginto.Itlumber’sanddecorator’s,fullofsamplesofaperandbathroomfittingsandthings.BythistimeIwasn’tfifteenyardsawayfromtheothertwo.Icouldheartheirvoicesgawayihosemeaninglessversationsthatwomenhavewhenthey’rejustpassiimeofday.‘Yes,that’sjestaboutit.That’sjestwhereitis.Isaidtohimmyself,Isaid,“Well,whatelsedoyouexpect?”Isaid.Itdon’tseemright,doit?Butwhat’stheuse,youmightaswelltalktoasto’sashame!’andsoonandsoforth.Iwasgettingwarmer.Obviouslymywomanwasasmallshopkeeper’swife,liketheother.Iwasjustwwhethershemightn’tbeohepeopleI’dknowninLowerBinfieldafterall,wheurnedalmosttowardsmeandIsawthree-quartersofherfadJesusChrist!ItwasElsie!

  Yes,itwasElsie.Noistake.Elsie!Thatfathag!

  Itgavemesuchashoindyou,seeingElsie,butseeingwhatshe’dgrowntobelike—thatforamomentthingsswaminfrontofmyeyes.ThebrasstapsandballstopsandporcelainsinksandthingsseemedtofadeawayintothedistahatIbothsawthemanddidhem.AlsoforamomentIwasinadeadlyfunkthatshemightreizeme.Butshe’dlookedbanginmyfadhadn’tmadeanysign.Amomentmore,aurnedaon.AgainIfollowed.Itwasdangerous,shemightspotIwasfollowingher,andthatmightstartherwwhoIwas,butIjusthadtohaveanotherlookather.Thefactwasthatsheexercisedakindofhorriblefasationonme.InamannerofspeakingI’dbeenwatgherbefore,butIwatchedherwithquitedifferenteyesnow.

  Itwashorrible,aIgotakindofstifickickoutofstudyingherbackview.It’sfrightening,thethingsthattwenty-fouryearsdotoawoman.Onlytwenty-fouryears,andthegirlI’dknown,withhermilky-whiteskinandredmouthandkindofdull-goldhair,hadturothisgreatround-shoulderedhag,shamblingalongontwistedheels.ItmademefeeldhtgladI’maman.Nomanevergoestopiecesquitesopletelyasthat.I’mfat,Igrantyou.I’mthewrongshape,ifyoulike.ButatleastI’mAshape.Elsiewasn’tevenparticularlyfat,shewasmerelyshapeless.Ghastlythingshadhappeoherhips.Asforherwaist,ithadvanished.Shewasjustakindofsoftlumpyder,likeabagofmeal.

  Ifollowedheralongway,outoftheoldtownandthroughalotofmeanlittlestreetsIdidn’tknow.Finallysheturnedinatthedoorwayofanothershop.Bythewayshewentin,itwasobviouslyherown.Istoppedforamomentoutsidethewindow.‘G.Cookson,feerandTobaist.’SoElsiewasMrsCookson.Itwasamangylittleshop,muchliketheotheronewhereshe’dstoppedbefore,butsmallerandalotmoreflyblown.Didosellanythingexcepttobadthecheapestkindsofsweets.IwonderedwhatIcouldbuythatwouldtakeamiwo.ThenIsawarackofcheappipesinthewindow,ain.IhadtobraerveupalittlebeforeIdidit,becausethere’dobesomehardlyingifbyanyceshereizedme.

  She’ddisappearedintotheroombehindtheshop,butshecamebackasItappedontheter.Sowewerefacetoface.Ah!nosign.Didn’treizeme.Justlookedatmethewaytheydo.Youknowthewaysmallshopkeeperslookattheirers—utterlackofi.

  ItwasthefirsttimeI’dseenherfullfadthoughIhalfexpectedwhatIsaw,itgavemealmostasbigashockasthatfirstmomentwhenI’dreizedher.Isupposewhenyoulookatthefaeoneyoung,evenofachild,yououghttobeabletoforeseewhatit’lllooklikewhenit’sold.It’sallaquestionoftheshapeofthebones.Butifithadeveroccurredtome,whenIwastwentyawenty-two,towonderwhatElsiewouldlooklikeatforty-seven,itwouldn’thavecrossedmymindthatshecouldeverlooklikeTHAT.Thewholefacehadkindofsagged,asifithadsomehowbeendraards.Doyouknoeofmiddle-agedwomanthathasafacejustlikeabulldog?Greatunderhungjaw,mouthturneddownattheers,eyessunken,withpouchesunderh.Exactlylikeabulldog.Awasthesameface,I’dhaveknownitinamillion.Herhairwasn’tpletelygrey,itwasakindofdirtycolour,andtherewasmuchlessofitthanthereusedtobe.Shedidn’tknowmefromAdam.Iwasjustaer,astranger,anuingfatman.It’squeerwhataninchortwooffatdo.IwonderedwhetherI’dgedevehanshehad,orwhetheritwasmerelythatshewasn’texpegtoseeme,orwhether—whatwasthelikeliestofall—she’ssimplyfotteence.

  ‘Devening,’shesaid,inthatlistlesswaytheyhave.

  ‘Ie,’Isaidflatly.‘Abriarpipe.’

  ‘Apipe.lemmesee.Iknowwegossomepipessomewhere.NowwheredidI—ah!‘Ereweare.’

  Shetookacardboardboxfullofpipesfromsomewhereuheter.Howbadherathadgot!OrmaybeIwasjustimaginingthat,becausemyownstandardshadged?Butno,sheusedtobeso‘superior’,allthegirlsatLilywhite’swereso‘superior’,andshe’dbeenamemberofthevicar’sReadingCircle.Iswearsheneverusedtodropheraitches.It’squeerhowthesewomengotopiecethey’remarried.Ifiddledamongthepipesforamomentaeolookthemover.FinallyIsaidI’dlikeohanambermouthpiece.

  ‘Amber?Idon’tknowaswegotany—’sheturowardsthebackoftheshopandcalled:‘Ge-e!’

  Sotheotherbloke’snamewasGeetoo.Asoundedsomethinglike‘Ur!’camefromthebackoftheshop.

  ‘Ge-e!Wherejuputthatotherboxofpipes?’

  Geecamein.Hewasasmallstoutishchap,inshirtsleeves,withabaldheadandabiggingery-colouredsoupstrainermoustache.Hisjainaruminativekindofway.Obviouslyhe’dbeeninterruptedinthemiddleofhistea.Thetwoofthemstartedpokingroundinsearchoftheotherboxofpipes.Itwasaboutfiveminutesbeforetheyranittoearthbehindsomebottlesofsweets.It’swonderful,theamountoflittertheymaoaccumulateinthesefrowsylittleshopswherethewholestockisworthaboutfiftyquid.

  IwatchedoldElsiepokingaboutamoerandmumblingtoherself.Doyouknowthekindofshuffling,round-shoulderedmovementsofanoldwomanwho’slostsomething?ryingtodescribetoyouwhatIfelt.Akindofcold,deadlydesolatefeeling.You’tceiveitunlessyou’vehadit.AllIsayis,iftherewasagirlyouusedtocareabouttwenty-fiveyearsago,goandhavealookathernow.Thenperhapsyou’llknowwhatIfelt.

  Butasamatteroffact,thethoughtthatwaschieflyinmymindwashowdifferentlythingsturnoutfromwhatyouexpect.ThetimesI’dhadwithElsie!TheJulynightsuhechestnuttrees!Wouldn’tyouthinkitwouldleavesomekindofafter-effectbehind?Who’dhavethoughtthetimewouldeverewhentherewouldbejustnofeelingwhateverbetweenus?HerewasIandherewasshe,ourbodiesmightbeayardapart,andwewerejustasmuchstrangersasthoughwe’d.Asforher,shedidn’tevenreizeme.IfItoldherwhoIwas,verylikelyshewouldn’tremember.Andifshedidremember,whatwouldshefeel?Justnothing.Probablywouldn’tevenbeangrybecauseI’ddoyowasasifthewholethinghadneverhappened.

  Andoherhand,who’deverhaveforeseenthatElsiewouldenduplikethis?She’dseemedthekindofgirlwho’sboundtogotothedevil.Iknowthere’dbeeohermanbeforeIhadmether,andit’ssafetobettherewereothersbetweehesedGee.Itwouldn’tsurprisemetolearnthatshe’dhadadozenaltogether.Itreatedherbadly,there’sionaboutthat,andmanyatimeithadgivenmeabadhalf-hour.She’llenduporeets,Iusedtothink,orstickherheadinthegasoven.AndsometimesIfeltI’dbeenabitofabastard,butothertimesIreflected(whatwastrueenough)thatifithadn’tbeewouldhavebeensomebodyelse.Butyouseethewaythingshappen,thekindofdullpointlessway.Howmanywomenreallyenduporeets?Adamnsightmoreendupatthemangle.Shehadn’tgohebad,ortothegoodeither.Justendeduplikeeverybodyelse,afatoldwomanmuddlingaboutafrowsylittleshop,withagingery-moustachedGeetocallherown.Probablygotastringofkidsaswell.MrsGeeCookson.Livedrespectedanddiedlamented—andmightdiethissideofthebankruptcy-court,ifshewaslucky.

  They’dfoundtheboxofpipes.Ofcoursethereweren’tanywithambermouthpiecesamongthem.

  ‘Idon’tknowaswegotanyamberonesjustatpresent,sir.Notamber.Wegossomenicevuliteones.’

  ‘Iwantedanamberone,’Isaid.

  ‘Wegossomenicepipes‘ere.’Sheheldo.‘That’sanicepipe,now.‘Alfa,thatoneis.’

  Itookit.erstouched.Nokiorea.Thebodydoesn’tremember.AndIsupposeyouthinkIboughtthepipe,justforoldsake’ssake,toputhalfainElsie’spocket.Butnotabitofit.Ididn’twahing.Idon’tsmokeapipe.I’dmerelybeenmakingapretexttoeintotheshop.Ituroverinmyfingersaitdownontheter.

  ‘Doesn’tmatter,I’llleaveit,’Isaid.‘GivemeasmallPlayers’.’

  Hadtobuysomething,afterallthatfuss.Geethesed,ormaybethethirdorfourth,routedoutapacketofPlayers’,stillmungawaybehhismoustache.IcouldseehewassulkybecauseI’ddraggedhimawayfromhisteafornothing.Butitseemedtoodamnsillytowastehalfa.IclearedoutandthatwasthelastIeversawofElsie.

  IwentbacktotheGeeandhaddinner.AfterwardsIwentoutwithsomevagueideaofgoingtothepictures,iftheywereopen,butinsteadIlandedupihebignoisypubsinthenewpartofthetown.ThereIranintoacoupleofchapsfromStaffordshirewhoweretravellinginhardware,aalkingaboutthestateoftrade,andplayingdartsanddrinkingGuinness.ByclosingtimetheywerebothsoboozedthatIhadtotakethemhomeinataxi,andIwasabituheweathermyself,amIwokeupwithaworseheadthanever.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读

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