首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第67部分

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s　in　a　bad　mood。

‘Sorry；　it’s　been　a　dreadful　day；’　she　said；　although　he　had　not　plained；　and　they　had　barely　exchanged　greetings。　‘I　was　late　back；　I　meant　to　be　further　on　with　dinner；　e　through。’

From　upstairs　came　the　insistent　crash　of　drums　and　a　loud　bass　line。　Gavin　was　surprised　that　the　neighbours　were　not　plaining。　Kay　saw　him　glance　up　at　the　ceiling　and　said；　‘Oh；　Gaia’s　furious　because　some　boy　she　liked　back　in　Hackney　has　started　going　out　with　another　girl。’

She　seized　the　glass　of　wine　she　was　already　drinking　and　took　a　big　gulp。　Her　conscience　had　hurt　her　when　she　called　Marco　de　Luca　‘some　boy’。　He　had　virtually　moved　into　their　house　in　the　weeks　before　they　had　left　London。　Kay　had　found　him　charming；　considerate　and　helpful。　She　would　have　liked　a　son　like　Marco。

‘She’ll　live；’　said　Kay；　pushing　the　memories　away；　and　she　returned　to　the　potatoes　she　was　boiling。　‘She’s　sixteen。　You　bounce　at　that　age。　Help　yourself　to　wine。’

Gavin　sat　down　at　the　table；　wishing　that　Kay　would　make　Gaia　turn　the　music　down。　She　had　virtually　to　shout　at　him　over　the　vibration　of　the　bass；　the　rattling　saucepan　lids　and　the　noisy　extractor　fan。　He　yearned　again　for　the　melancholy　calm　of　Mary’s　big　kitchen；　for　Mary’s　gratitude；　her　need　for　him。

‘What？’　he　said　loudly；　because　he　could　tell　that　Kay　had　just　asked　him　something。

‘I　said；　did　you　vote？’

‘Vote？’

‘In　the　council　election！’　she　said。

‘No；’　he　replied。　‘Couldn’t　care　less。’

He　was　not　sure　whether　she　had　heard。　She　was　talking　again；　and　only　when　she　turned　to　the　table　with　knives　and　forks　could　he　hear　her　clearly。

‘…　absolutely　disgusting；　actually；　that　the　parish　is　colluding　with　Aubrey　Fawley。　I　expect　Bellchapel　will　be　finished　if　Miles　gets　in　…’

She　drained　the　potatoes　and　the　splatter　and　crash　drowned　her　temporarily　again。

‘…　if　that　silly　woman　hadn’t　lost　her　temper；　we　might　be　in　with　a　better　shot。　I　gave　her　masses　of　stuff　on　the　clinic　and　I　don’t　think　she　used　any　of　it。　She　just　screamed　at　Howard　Mollison　that　he　was　too　fat。　Talk　about　unprofessional　…’

Gavin　had　heard　rumours　about　Dr　Jawanda’s　public　outburst。　He　had　found　it　mildly　amusing。

‘…　all　this　uncertainty’s　very　damaging　to　the　people　who　work　at　that　clinic；　not　to　mention　the　clients。’

But　Gavin　could　muster　neither　pity　nor　indignation；　all　he　felt　was　dismay　at　the　firm　grip　Kay　seemed　to　have　on　the　intricacies　and　personalities　involved　in　this　esoteric　local　issue。　It　was　yet　another　indication　of　how　she　was　driving　roots　deeper　and　deeper　into　Pagford。　It　would　take　a　lot　to　dislodge　her　now。

He　turned　his　head　and　gazed　out　of　the　window　onto　the　overgrown　garden　beyond。　He　had　offered　to　help　Fergus　with　Mary’s　garden　this　weekend。　With　luck；　he　thought；　Mary　would　invite　him　to　stay　for　dinner　again；　and　if　she　did；　he　would　skip　Howard　Mollison’s　sixty…fifth　birthday　party；　to　which　Miles　seemed　to　think　he　was　looking　forward　with　excitement。

‘…　wanted　to　keep　the　Weedons；　but　no；　Gillian　says　we　can’t　cherry…pick。　Would　you　call　that　cherry…picking？’

‘Sorry；　what？’　asked　Gavin。

‘Mattie’s　back；’　she　said；　and　he　had　to　struggle　to　recollect　that　this　was　a　colleague　of　hers；　whose　cases　she　had　been　covering。　‘I　wanted　to　keep　working　with　the　Weedons；　because　sometimes　you　do　get　a　particular　feeling　for　a　family；　but　Gillian　won’t　let　me。　It’s　crazy。’

‘You　must　be　the　only　person　in　the　world　who　ever　wanted　to　keep　the　Weedons；’　said　Gavin。　‘From　what　I’ve　heard；　anyway。’

It　took　nearly　all　Kay’s　willpower　not　to　snap　at　him。　She　pulled　the　salmon　fillets　she　had　been　baking　out　of　the　oven。　Gaia’s　music　was　so　loud　that　she　could　feel　it　vibrating　through　the　tray；　which　she　slammed　down　on　the　hob。

‘Gaia！’　she　screamed；　making　Gavin　jump　as　she　strode　past　him　to　the　foot　of　the　stairs。　‘GAIA！　Turn　it　down！　I　mean　it！　TURN　IT　DOWN！’

The　volume　diminished　by　perhaps　a　decibel。　Kay　marched　back　into　the　kitchen；　fuming。　The　row　with　Gaia；　before　Gavin　arrived；　had　been　one　of　their　worst　ever。　Gaia　had　stated　her　intention　of　telephoning　her　father　and　asking　to　move　in　with　him。

‘Well；　good　luck　with　that！’　Kay　had　shouted。

But　perhaps　Brendan　would　say　yes。　He　had　left　her　when　Gaia　was　only　a　month　old。　Brendan　was　married　now；　with　three　other　children。　He　had　a　huge　house　and　a　good　job。　What　if　he　said　yes？

Gavin　was　glad　that　he　did　not　have　to　talk　as　they　ate；　the　thumping　music　filled　the　silence；　and　he　could　think　about　Mary　in　peace。　He　would　tell　her　tomorrow　that　the　insurance　pany　was　making　conciliatory　noises；　and　receive　her　gratitude　and　admiration　…

He　had　almost　cleared　his　plate　when　he　realized　that　Kay　had　not　eaten　a　single　mouthful。　She　was　staring　at　him　across　the　table；　and　her　expression　alarmed　him。　Perhaps　he　had　somehow　revealed　his　inner　thoughts　…

Gaia’s　music　came　to　an　abrupt　halt　overhead。　The　throbbing　quiet　was　dreadful　to　Gavin；　he　wished　that　Gaia　would　put　something　else　on；　quickly。

‘You　don’t　even　try；’　Kay　said　miserably。　‘You　don’t　even　pretend　to　care；　Gavin。’

He　attempted　to　take　the　easy　way　out。

‘Kay；　I’ve　had　a　long　day；’　he　said。　‘I’m　sorry　if　I’m　not　up　to　the　minutiae　of　local　politics　the　second　I　walk—’

‘I’m　not　talking　about　local　politics；’　she　said。　‘You　sit　there　looking　as　if　you’d　rather　be　anywhere　else　–　it’s　–　it’s　offensive。　What　do　you　want；　Gavin？’

He　saw　Mary’s　kitchen；　and　her　sweet　face。

‘I　have　to　beg　to　see　you；’　Kay　said；　‘and　when　you　e　round　here　you　couldn’t　make　it　clearer　that　you　don’t　want　to　e。’

She　wanted　him　to　say　‘that’s　not　true’。　The　last　point　at　which　a　denial　might　have　counted　slunk　past。　They　were　sliding；　at　increasing　speed；　towards　that　crisis　which　Gavin　both　urgently　desired　and　dreaded。

‘Tell　me　what　you　want；’　she　said　wearily。　‘Just　tell　me。’

Both　could　feel　the　relationship　crumbling　to　pieces　beneath　the　weight　of　everything　that　Gavin　refused　to　say。　It　was　with　a　sense　of　putting　them　both　out　of　their　misery　that　he　reached　for　words　that　he　had　not　intended　to　speak　aloud；　perhaps　ever；　but　which；　in　some　way；　seemed　to　excuse　both　of　them。

‘I　didn’t　want　this　to　happen；’　Gavin　said　earnestly。　‘I　didn’t　mean　it　to。　Kay；　I’m　really　sorry；　but　I　think　I’m　in　love　with　Mary　Fairbrother。’

He　saw　from　her　expression　that　she　had　not　been　prepared　for　this。

‘Mary　Fairbrother？’　she　repeated。

‘I　think；’　he　said　（and　there　was　a　bittersweet　pleasure　in　talking　about　it；　even　though　he　knew　he　was　wounding　her；　he　had　not　been　able　to　say　it　to　anyone　else）；　‘it’s　been　there　for　a　long　time。　I　never　acknowledged　–　I　mean；　when　Barry　was　alive　I’d　never　have—’

‘I　thought　he　was　your　best　friend；’　whispered　Kay。

‘He　was。’

‘He’s　only　been　dead　a　few　weeks！’

Gavin　did　not　like　hearing　that。

‘Look；’　he　said；　‘I’m　trying　to　be　honest　with　you。　I’m　trying　to　be　fair。’

‘You’re　trying　to　be　fair？’

He　had　always　imagined　it　ending　in　a　blaze　of　fury；　but　she　simply　watched　him　putting　on　his　coat　with　tears　in　her　eyes。

‘I’m　sorry；’　he　said；　and　walked　out　of　her　house　for　the　last　time。

On　the　pavement；　he　experienced　a　rush　of　elation；　and　hurried　to　his　car。　He　would　be　able　to　tell　Mary　about　the　insurance　pany　tonight；　after　all。

I
Terri　Weedon　was　used　to　people　leaving　her。　The　first　and　greatest　departure　had　been　her　mother’s；　who　had　never　said　goodbye；　but　had　simply　walked　out　one　day　with　a　suitcase　while　Terri　was　at　school。

There　had　been　lots　of　social　workers　and　care　workers　after　she　ran　away　at　fourteen；　and　some　of　them　had　been　nice　enough；　but　they　all　left　at　the　end　of　the　working　day。　Every　fresh　departure　added　a　fine　new　layer　to　the　crust　building　over　her　core。

She　had　had　friends　in　care；　but　at　sixteen　they　were　all　on　their　own；　and　life　had　scattered　them。　She　met　Ritchie　Adams；　and　she　bore　him　two　children。　Tiny　little　pink　things；　pure　and　beautiful　like　nothing　in　the　whole　world：　and　they　had　e　out　of　her；　and　for　shining　hours　in　the　hospital；　twice；　it　had　been　like　her　own　rebirth。

And　then　they　took　the　children　from　her；　and　she　never　saw　them　again；　either。

Banger　had　left　her。　Nana　Cath　had　left　her。　Nearly　everybody　went；　hardly　anyone　stayed。　She　ought　to　be　used　to　it　by　now。

When　Mattie；　her　regular　social　worker；　reappeared；　Terri　demanded；　‘Where’s　the　other　one？’

‘Kay？　She　was　only　covering　for　me　while　I　was　ill；’　said　Mattie。　‘So；　where’s　Liam？　No　…　I　mean　Robbie；　don’t　I？’

Terri　did　not　like　Mattie。　For　one　thing；　she　did　not　have　kids；　and　how　could　people　who　didn’t　have　kids　tell　you　how　to　raise　them；　how　could　they　understand？　She　had　not　liked　Kay；　exactly；　either　…　except　that　Kay　gave　you　a　funny　feeling；　the　same　feeling　that　Nana　Cath　had　once　given　Terri；　before　she　had　called　her　a　whore　and　told　her　she　never　wanted　to　see　her　again　…　you　felt；　with　Kay　–　even　though　she　carried　folders；　like　the　rest　of　them；　even　though　she　had　instituted　the　case　review　–　you　felt　that　she　wanted　things　to　go　right　for　you；　and　not　only　for　the　forms。　You　really　did　feel　that。　But　she　was　gone；　and　she　probably　don’t　even　think　about　us　now；　thought　Terri　furiously。

On　Friday　afternoon；　Mattie　told　Terri　that　Bellchapel　would　almost　certainly　close。

‘It’s　political；’　she　said　briskly。　‘They　want　to　save　money；　but　methadone　treatment’s　unpopular　with　the　District　Council。　Plus；　Pagford　wants　them　out　of　the　building。　It　was　all　in　the　local　paper；　maybe　you　saw　it？’

Sometimes　she　spoke　to　Terri　like　that；　veering　into　a　kind　of　after…all…we’re…in…this…together　small…talk　that　jarred；　because　it　sat　alongside　enquiries　as　to　whether　Terri　was　remembering　to　feed　her　son。　But　this　time　it　was　what　she　said；　rather　than　how　she　said　it；　that　upset　Terri。

‘They’re　closin’　it？’　she　repeated。

‘It　looks　that　way；’　said　Mattie　breezily；　‘but　it　won’t　make　any　difference　to　you。　Well；　obviously　…’

Three　times　Terri　had　embarked　upon　the　programme　at　Bellchapel。　The　dusty　interior　of　the　converted　church　with　its　partition　walls　and　its　flyers；　the　bathroom　with　its　neon…blue　light　（so　you　could　not　find　veins　and　shoot　up　in　there）；　had　bee　familiar　and　almost　friendly。　Lately；　she　had　begun　to　sense　in　the　workers　there　a　change　in　the　way　they　spoke　to　her。　They　had　all　expected　her　to　fail　again；　in　the　beginning；　but　they　had　started　talking　to　her　the　way　Kay　had　talked：　as　if　they　knew　a　real　person　lived　inside　her　pockmarked；　burned　body。

‘　…　obviously；　it　will　be　different；　but　you　can　get　your　methadone　from　your　GP　instead；’　said　Mattie。　She　flipped　over　pages　in　the　distended　file　that　was　the　state’s　record　of　Terri’s　life。　‘You’re　registered　with　Dr　Jawanda　in　Pagford；　right？　Pagford　…　why　are　you　going　all　the　way　out　there？’

‘I　smacked　a　nurse　at　Cantermill；’　said　Terri；　almost　absent…mindedly。

After　Mattie　had　left；　Terri　sat　for　a　long　time　in　her　filthy　chair　in　the　sitting　room；　gnawing　at　her　nails　until　they　bled。