首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第45部分

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‘Hi；　how　–　Mary；　what’s　wrong？’

Her　whole　face　was　wet；　her　eyes　brimming　with　diamond…bright　tears。　She　gulped　once　or　twice；　shook　her　head；　and　then；　without　quite　knowing　how　it　had　happened；　Gavin　found　himself　holding　her　in　his　arms　on　the　doorstep。

‘Mary？　Has　something　happened？’

He　felt　her　nod。　Acutely　aware　of　their　exposed　position；　of　the　open　road　behind　him；　Gavin　manoeuvred　her　inside。　She　was　small　and　fragile　in　his　arms；　her　fingers　clutched　at　him；　her　face　pressed　into　his　coat。　He　relinquished　his　briefcase　as　gently　as　he　could；　but　the　sound　of　it　hitting　the　floor　made　her　withdraw　from　him；　her　breath　short　as　she　covered　her　mouth　with　her　hands。

‘I’m　sorry　…　I’m　sorry　…　oh　God；　Gav　…’

‘What’s　happened？’

His　voice　sounded　different　from　usual：　forceful；　take　mand；　more　like　the　way　Miles　sometimes　talked　in　a　crisis　at　work。

‘Someone’s　put　…　I　don’t　…　someone’s　put　Barry’s　…’

She　beckoned　him　into　the　home　office；　cluttered；　shabby　and　cosy；　with　Barry’s　old　rowing　trophies　on　the　shelves；　and　a　big　framed　photograph　on　the　wall　of　eight　teenage　girls　punching　the　air；　with　medals　around　their　necks。　Mary　pointed　a　trembling　finger　at　the　puter　screen。　Still　in　his　coat；　Gavin　dropped　into　the　chair　and　stared　at　the　message　board　of　Pagford　Parish　Council’s　website。

‘I　w…was　in　the　delicatessen　this　morning；　and　Maureen　Lowe　told　me　that　lots　of　people　had　put　messages　of　condolence　on　the　site　…　so　I　was　going　to　p…post　a　message　to　s…say　thank　you。　And　–　look　…’

He　spotted　it　as　she　spoke。　Simon　Price　Unfit　to　Stand　for　Council；　posted　by　The　Ghost　of　Barry　Fairbrother。

‘Jesus　Christ；’　said　Gavin　in　disgust。

Mary　dissolved　into　tears　again。　Gavin　wanted　to　put　his　arms　back　around　her；　but　was　afraid　to；　especially　here；　in　this　snug　little　room　so　full　of　Barry。　He　promised　by　taking　hold　of　her　thin　wrist　and　leading　her　through　the　hall　into　the　kitchen。

‘You　need　a　drink；’　he　told　her；　in　that　unfamiliarly　strong　and　manding　voice。　‘Sod　coffee。　Where’s　the　proper　stuff？’

But　he　remembered　before　she　answered；　he　had　seen　Barry　take　the　bottles　out　of　the　cupboard　often　enough；　so　he　mixed　her　a　small　gin　and　tonic；　which　was　the　only　thing　he　had　ever　known　her　drink　before　dinner。

‘Gav；　it’s　four　in　the　afternoon。’

‘Who　gives　a　damn？’　said　Gavin；　in　his　new　voice。　‘Get　that　down　you。’

An　unbalanced　laugh　broke　her　sobs；　she　accepted　the　glass　and　sipped。　He　fetched　her　kitchen　roll　to　mop　her　face　and　eyes。

‘You’re　so　kind；　Gav。　Don’t　you　want　anything？　Coffee　or　…　or　beer？’　she　asked；　on　another　weak　laugh。

He　fetched　himself　a　bottle　from　the　fridge；　took　off　his　coat　and　sat　down　opposite　her　at　the　island　in　the　middle　of　the　room。　After　a　while；　when　she　had　drunk　most　of　her　gin；　she　became　calm　and　quiet　again；　the　way　he　always　thought　of　her。

‘Who　d’you　think　did　it？’　she　asked　him。

‘Some　total　bastard；’　said　Gavin。

‘They’re　all　fighting　over　his　council　seat；　now。　Squabbling　away　over　the　Fields　as　usual。　And　he’s　still　in　there；　putting　his　two　cents　in。　The　Ghost　of　Barry　Fairbrother。　Maybe　it　really　is　him；　posting　on　the　message　board？’

Gavin　did　not　know　whether　this　was　meant　as　a　joke；　and　settled　for　a　slight　smile　that　might　be　quickly　removed。

‘You　know；　I’d　love　to　think　that　he’s　worrying　about　us；　wherever　he　is；　about　me　and　the　kids。　But　I　doubt　it。　I’ll　bet　he’s　still　most　worried　about　Krystal　Weedon。　Do　you　know　what　he’d　probably　say　to　me　if　he　was　here？’

She　drained　her　glass。　Gavin　had　not　thought　that　he　had　mixed　the　gin　very　strong；　but　there　were　patches　of　high　colour　on　her　cheeks。

‘No；’　he　said　cautiously。

‘He’d　tell　me　that　I’ve　got　support；’　said　Mary；　and　to　Gavin’s　astonishment；　he　heard　anger　in　the　voice　he　always　thought　of　as　gentle。　‘Yeah；　he’d　probably　say；　“You’ve　got　all　the　family　and　our　friends　and　the　kids　to　fort　you；　but　Krystal；”’　Mary’s　voice　was　being　louder；　‘“Krystal’s　got　nobody　to　look　out　for　her。”　D’you　know　what　he　spent　our　wedding　anniversary　doing？’

‘No；’　said　Gavin　again。

‘Writing　an　article　for　the　local　paper　about　Krystal。　Krystal　and　the　Fields。　The　bloody　Fields。　If　I　never　hear　them　mentioned　again；　it’ll　be　too　soon。　I　want　another　gin。　I　don’t　drink　enough。’

Gavin　picked　up　her　glass　automatically　and　returned　to　the　drinks　cupboard；　stunned。　He　had　always　regarded　her　and　Barry’s　marriage　as　literally　perfect。　Never　had　it　occurred　to　him　that　Mary　might　be　other　than　one　hundred　per　cent　approving　of　every　venture　and　crusade　with　which　the　ever…busy　Barry　concerned　himself。

‘Rowing　practice　in　the　evenings；　driving　them　to　races　at　the　weekends；’　she　said；　over　the　tinkling　of　ice　he　was　adding　to　her　glass；　‘and　most　nights　he　was　on　the　puter；　trying　to　get　people　to　support　him　about　the　Fields；　and　getting　stuff　on　the　agenda　for　council　meetings。　And　everyone　always　said；　“Isn’t　Barry　marvellous；　the　way　he　does　it　all；　the　way　he　volunteers；　he’s　so　involved　with　the　munity。”’　She　took　a　big　gulp　of　her　fresh　gin　and　tonic。　‘Yes；　marvellous。　Absolutely　marvellous。　Until　it　killed　him。　All　day　long；　on　our　wedding　anniversary；　struggling　to　meet　that　stupid　deadline。　They　haven’t　even　printed　it　yet。’

Gavin　could　not　take　his　eyes　off　her。　Anger　and　alcohol　had　restored　colour　to　her　face。　She　was　sitting　upright；　instead　of　cowed　and　hunched　over；　as　she　had　been　recently。

‘That’s　what　killed　him；’　she　said　clearly；　and　her　voice　echoed　a　little　in　the　kitchen。　‘He　gave　everything　to　everybody。　Except　to　me。’

Ever　since　Barry’s　funeral；　Gavin　had　dwelled；　with　a　sense　of　deep　inadequacy；　on　the　paratively　small　gap　that　he　was　sure　he　would　leave　behind　in　his　munity；　should　he　die。　Looking　at　Mary；　he　wondered　whether　it　would　not　be　better　to　leave　a　huge　hole　in　one　person’s　heart。　Had　Barry　not　realized　how　Mary　felt？　Had　he　not　realized　how　lucky　he　was？

The　front　door　opened　with　a　loud　clatter；　and　he　heard　the　sound　of　the　four　children　ing　in；　voices　and　footsteps　and　the　thumping　of　shoes　and　bags。

‘Hi；　Gav；’　said　eighteen…year…old　Fergus；　kissing　his　mother　on　top　of　her　head。　‘Are　you　drinking；　Mum？’

‘It’s　my　fault；’　said　Gavin。　‘Blame　me。’

They　were　such　nice　kids；　the　Fairbrother　kids。　Gavin　liked　the　way　they　talked　to　their　mother；　hugged　her；　chatted　to　each　other　and　to　him。　They　were　open；　polite　and　funny。　He　thought　of　Gaia；　her　vicious　asides；　silences　like　jagged　glass；　the　snarling　way　she　addressed　him。

‘Gav；　we　haven’t　even　talked　about　the　insurance；’　said　Mary；　as　the　children　surged　around　the　kitchen；　finding　themselves　drinks　and　snacks。

‘It　doesn’t　matter；’　said　Gavin；　without　thinking；　before　correcting　himself　hastily；　‘shall　we　go　through　to　the　sitting　room　or　…？’

‘Yes；　let’s。’

She　wobbled　a　little　getting　down　from　the　high　kitchen　stool；　and　he　caught　her　arm　again。

‘Are　you　staying　for　dinner；　Gav？’　called　Fergus。

‘Do；　if　you　want　to；’　said　Mary。

A　surge　of　warmth　flooded　him。

‘I’d　love　to；’　he　said。　‘Thanks。’

IV
‘Very　sad；’　said　Howard　Mollison；　rocking　a　little　on　his　toes　in　front　of　his　mantelpiece。　‘Very　sad　indeed。’

Maureen　had　just　finished　telling　them　all　about　Catherine　Weedon’s　death；　she　had　heard　everything　from　her　friend　Karen　the　receptionist　that　evening；　including　the　plaint　from　Cath　Weedon’s　granddaughter。　A　look　of　delighted　disapproval　was　crumpling　her　face；　Samantha；　who　was　in　a　very　bad　mood；　thought　she　resembled　a　monkey　nut。　Miles　was　making　conventional　sounds　of　surprise　and　pity；　but　Shirley　was　staring　up　at　the　ceiling　with　a　bland　expression　on　her　face；　she　hated　it　when　Maureen　held　centre　stage　with　news　that　she　ought　to　have　heard　first。

‘My　mother　knew　the　family　of　old；’　Howard　told　Samantha；　who　already　knew　it。　‘Neighbours　in　Hope　Street。　Cath　was　decent　enough　in　her　way；　you　know。　The　house　was　always　spotless；　and　she　worked　until　she　was　into　her　sixties。　Oh；　yes；　she　was　one　of　the　world’s　grafters；　Cath　Weedon；　whatever　the　rest　of　the　family　became。’

Howard　was　enjoying　giving　credit　where　credit　was　due。

‘The　husband　lost　his　job　when　they　closed　the　steelworks。　Hard　drinker。　No；　she　didn’t　always　have　it　easy；　Cath。’

Samantha　was　barely　managing　to　look　interested；　but　fortunately　Maureen　interrupted。

‘And　the　Gazette’s　on　to　Dr　Jawanda！’　she　croaked。　‘Imagine　how　she　must　be　feeling；　now　the　paper’s　got　it！　Family’s　kicking　up　a　stink　–　well；　you　can’t　blame　them；　alone　in　that　house　for　three　days。　D’you　know　her；　Howard？　Which　one　is　Danielle　Fowler？’

Shirley　got　up　and　stalked　out　of　the　room　in　her　apron。　Samantha　slugged　a　little　more　wine；　smiling。

‘Let’s　think；　let’s　think；’　said　Howard。　He　prided　himself　on　knowing　almost　everyone　in　Pagford；　but　the　later　generations　of　Weedons　belonged　more　to　Yarvil。　‘Can’t　be　a　daughter；　she　had　four　boys；　Cath。　Granddaughter；　I　expect。’

‘And　she　wants　an　inquiry；’　said　Maureen。　‘Well；　it　was　always　going　to　e　to　this。　It’s　been　on　the　cards。　If　anything；　I’m　surprised　it’s　taken　this　long。　Dr　Jawanda　wouldn’t　give　the　Hubbards’　son　antibiotics　and　he　ended　up　hospitalized　for　his　asthma。　Do　you　know；　did　she　train　in　India；　or—？’

Shirley；　who　was　listening　from　the　kitchen　while　she　stirred　the　gravy；　felt　irritated；　as　she　always　did；　by　Maureen’s　monopolization　of　the　conversation；　that；　at　least；　was　how　Shirley　put　it　to　herself。　Determined　not　to　return　to　the　room　until　Maureen　had　finished；　Shirley　turned　into　the　study　and　checked　to　see　whether　anyone　had　sent　in　apologies　for　the　next　Parish　Council　meeting；　as　secretary；　she　was　already　putting　together　the　agenda。

‘Howard　–　Miles　–　e　and　look　at　this！’

Shirley’s　voice　had　lost　its　usual　soft；　flutey　quality；　it　rang　out　shrilly。

Howard　waddled　out　of　the　sitting　room　followed　by　Miles；　who　was　still　in　the　suit　he　had　worn　all　day　at　work。　Maureen’s　droopy；　bloodshot；　heavily　mascara…ed　eyes　were　fixed　on　the　empty　doorway　like　a　bloodhound’s；　her　hunger　to　know　what　Shirley　had　found　or　seen　was　almost　palpable。　Maureen’s　fingers；　a　clutch　of　bulging　knuckles　covered　in　translucent　leopard…spotted　skin；　slid　the　crucifix　and　wedding　ring　up　and　down　the　chain　around　her　neck。　The　deep　creases　running　from　the　corners　of　Maureen’s　mouth　to　her　chin　always　reminded　Samantha　of　a　ventriloquist’s　dummy。

Why　are　you　always　here？　Samantha　asked　the　older　woman　loudly；　inside　her　own　head。　You　couldn’t　make　me　lonely　enough　to　live　in　Howard　and　Shirley’s　pocket。

‘No；　you　haven’t。　Well；　good；　because　Mum　and　Dad　have　invited　us　over。’　And　before　she　could　protest；　he　had　added　sharply；　‘It’s　nothing　to　do　with　the　council。　It’s　to　discuss　arrangements　for　Dad’s　sixty…fifth。’

Anger　was　almost　a　relief；　it　eclipsed　her　anxiety；　her　fear。　She　had　followed　Miles　out　to　the　car；　cradling　her　sense　of　ill…usage。　When　he　asked；　at　last；　on　the　corner　of　Evertree　Crescent；　‘How　was　your　day？’　she　answered；　‘Absolutely　bloody　fantastic。’

‘Wonder