首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第73部分

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wiftly　erased。　She　was　crying　because　she　never　seemed　to　laugh　any　more；　and　also　because　the　previous　evening；　while　they　had　been　listening　to　the　jubilant　distant　thump　of　the　disco　in　the　church　hall；　Vikram　had　said；　‘Why　don’t　we　visit　Amritsar　this　summer？’

The　Golden　Temple；　the　holiest　shrine　of　the　religion　to　which　he　was　indifferent。　She　had　known　at　once　what　Vikram　was　doing。　Time　lay　slack　and　empty　on　her　hands　as　never　before　in　her　life。　Neither　of　them　knew　what　the　GMC　would　decide　to　do　with　her；　once　it　had　considered　her　ethical　breach　towards　Howard　Mollison。

‘Mandeep　says　it’s　a　big　tourist　trap；’　she　had　replied；　dismissing　Amritsar　at　a　stroke。

Sukhvinder　had　crossed　the　lawn　without　Parminder　noticing。　She　was　dressed　in　jeans　and　a　baggy　sweatshirt。　Parminder　hastily　wiped　her　face　and　squinted　at　Sukhvinder；　who　had　her　back　to　the　sun。

‘I　don’t　want　to　go　to　work　today。’

Parminder　responded　at　once；　in　the　same　spirit　of　automatic　contradiction　that　had　made　her　turn　down　Amritsar。　‘You’ve　made　a　mitment；　Sukhvinder。’

‘I　don’t　feel　well。’

‘You　mean　you’re　tired。　You’re　the　one　who　wanted　this　job。　Now　you　fulfil　your　obligations。’

‘But—’

‘You’re　going　to　work；’　snapped　Parminder；　and　she　might　have　been　pronouncing　sentence。　‘You’re　not　giving　the　Mollisons　another　reason　to　plain。’

After　Sukhvinder　walked　back　to　the　house　Parminder　felt　guilty。　She　almost　called　her　daughter　back；　but　instead　she　made　a　mental　note　that　she　must　try　and　find　time　to　sit　down　with　her　and　talk　to　her　without　arguing。

V
Krystal　was　walking　along　Foley　Road　in　the　early　morning　sunlight；　eating　a　banana。　It　was　an　unfamiliar　taste　and　texture；　and　she　could　not　make　up　her　mind　whether　she　liked　it　or　not。　Terri　and　Krystal　never　bought　fruit。

Nikki’s　mother　had　just　turfed　her　unceremoniously　out　of　the　house。

‘We　got　things　to　do；　Krystal；’　she　had　said。　‘We’re　going　to　Nikki’s　gran’s　for　dinner。’

As　an　afterthought；　she　had　handed　Krystal　the　banana　to　eat　for　breakfast。　Krystal　had　left　without　protest。　There　was　barely　enough　room　for　Nikki’s　family　around　the　kitchen　table。

The　Fields　were　not　improved　by　sunshine；　which　merely　showed　up　the　dirt　and　the　damage；　the　cracks　in　the　concrete　walls；　the　boarded　windows　and　the　litter。

The　Square　in　Pagford　looked　freshly　painted　whenever　the　sun　shone。　Twice　a　year；　the　primary　school　children　had　walked　through　the　middle　of　town；　crocodile　fashion；　on　their　way　to　church　for　Christmas　and　Easter　services。　（Nobody　had　ever　wanted　to　hold　Krystal’s　hand。　Fats　had　told　them　all　that　she　had　fleas。　She　wondered　whether　he　remembered。）　There　had　been　hanging　baskets　full　of　flowers；　splashes　of　purple；　pink　and　green；　and　every　time　Krystal　had　passed　one　of　the　planted　troughs　outside　the　Black　Canon；　she　had　pulled　off　a　petal。　Each　one　had　been　cool　and　slippery　in　her　fingers；　swiftly　being　slimy　and　brown　as　she　clutched　it；　and　she　usually　wiped　it　off　on　the　underside　of　a　warm　wooden　pew　in　St　Michael’s。

She　let　herself　into　her　house　and　saw　at　once；　through　the　open　door　to　her　left；　that　Terri　had　not　gone　to　bed。　She　was　sitting　in　her　armchair　with　her　eyes　closed　and　her　mouth　open。　Krystal　closed　the　door　with　a　snap；　but　Terri　did　not　stir。

Krystal　was　at　Terri’s　side　in　four　strides；　shaking　her　thin　arm。　Terri’s　head　fell　forwards　onto　her　shrunken　chest。　She　snored。

Krystal　let　go　of　her。　The　vision　of　a　dead　man　in　the　bathroom　swam　back　into　her　subconscious。

‘Silly　bitch；’　she　said。

Then　it　occurred　to　her　that　Robbie　was　not　there。　She　pounded　up　the　stairs；　shouting　for　him。

‘’M’ere；’　she　heard　him　say；　from　behind　her　own　closed　bedroom　door。

When　she　shouldered　it　open；　she　saw　Robbie　standing　there；　naked。　Behind　him；　scratching　his　bare　chest；　lying　on　her　own　mattress；　was　Obbo。

‘All　righ’；　Krys？’　he　said；　grinning。

She　seized　Robbie　and　pulled　him　into　his　own　room。　Her　hands　trembled　so　badly　that　it　took　her　ages　to　dress　him。

‘Did　’e　do　somethin’　to　yer？’　she　whispered　to　Robbie。

‘’M’ungry；’　said　Robbie。

When　he　was　dressed；　she　picked　him　up　and　ran　downstairs。　She　could　hear　Obbo　moving　around　in　her　bedroom。

‘Why’s　’e　’ere？’　she　shouted　at　Terri；　who　was　drowsily　awake　in　her　chair。　‘Why’s　’e　with　Robbie？’

Robbie　fought　to　get　out　of　her　arms；　he　hated　shouting。

‘An’　wha’　the　fuck’s　that？’　screamed　Krystal；　spotting；　for　the　first　time；　two　black　holdalls　lying　beside　Terri’s　armchair。

‘S’nuthin’；’　said　Terri　vaguely。

But　Krystal　had　already　forced　one　of　the　zips　open。

‘S’nuthin’！’　shouted　Terri。

Big；　brick…like　blocks　of　hashish　wrapped　neatly　in　sheets　of　polythene：　Krystal；　who　could　barely　read；　who　could　not　have　identified　half　the　vegetables　in　a　supermarket；　who　could　not　have　named　the　Prime　Minister；　knew　that　the　contents　of　the　bag；　if　discovered　on　the　premises；　meant　prison　for　her　mother。　Then　she　saw　the　tin；　with　the　coachman　and　horses　on　the　lid；　half…protruding　from　the　chair　on　which　Terri　was　sitting。

‘Yeh’ve　used；’　said　Krystal　breathlessly；　as　disaster　rained　invisibly　around　her　and　everything　collapsed。　‘Yeh’ve　fuckin’—’

She　heard　Obbo　on　the　stairs　and　she　snatched　up　Robbie　again。　He　wailed　and　struggled　in　her　arms；　frightened　by　her　anger；　but　Krystal’s　grip　was　unbreakable。

‘Fuckin’　lerrim　go；’　called　Terri　fruitlessly。　Krystal　had　opened　the　front　door　and　was　running　as　fast　as　she　could；　encumbered　by　Robbie　who　was　resisting　and　moaning；　back　along　the　road。

VI
Shirley　showered　and　pulled　clothes　out　of　the　wardrobe　while　Howard　slept　noisily　on。　The　church　bell　of　St　Michael　and　All　Saints；　ringing　for　ten　o’clock　matins；　reached　her　as　she　buttoned　up　her　cardigan。　She　always　thought　how　loud　it　must　be　for　the　Jawandas；　living　right　opposite；　and　hoped　that　it　struck　them　as　a　loud　proclamation　of　Pagford’s　adherence　to　the　old　ways　and　traditions　of　which　they；　so　conspicuously；　were　not　a　part。

Automatically；　because　it　was　what　she　so　often　did；　Shirley　walked　along　the　hall；　turned　into　Patricia’s　old　bedroom　and　sat　down　at　the　puter。

Patricia　ought　to　be　here；　sleeping　on　the　sofa…bed　that　Shirley　had　made　up　for　her。　It　was　a　relief　not　to　have　to　deal　with　her　this　morning。　Howard；　who　had　still　been　humming　‘The　Green；　Green　Grass　of　Home’　when　they　arrived　at　Ambleside　in　the　early　hours；　had　not　realized　that　Patricia　was　absent　until　Shirley　had　had　the　key　in　the　front　door。

‘Where’s　Pat？’　he　had　wheezed；　leaning　against　the　porch。

‘Oh；　she　was　upset　that　Melly　didn’t　want　to　e；’　sighed　Shirley。　‘They　had　a　row　or　something　…　I　expect　she’s　gone　home　to　try　and　patch　things　up。’

‘Never　a　dull　moment；’　said　Howard；　bouncing　lightly　off　alternate　walls　of　the　narrow　hallway　as　he　navigated　his　way　carefully　towards　the　bedroom。

Shirley　brought　up　her　favourite　medical　website。　When　she　typed　in　the　first　letter　of　the　condition　she　wished　to　investigate；　the　site　offered　its　explanation　of　EpiPens　again；　so　Shirley　swiftly　revised　their　use　and　content；　because　she　might　yet　have　an　opportunity　to　save　their　potboy’s　life。　Next；　she　carefully　typed　in　‘eczema’；　and　learned；　somewhat　to　her　disappointment；　that　the　condition　was　not　infectious；　and　could　not；　therefore；　be　used　as　an　excuse　to　sack　Sukhvinder　Jawanda。

From　sheer　force　of　habit；　she　then　typed　in　the　address　of　the　Pagford　Parish　Council　website；　and　clicked　onto　the　message　board。

She　had　grown　to　recognize　at　a　glance　the　shape　and　length　of　the　user　name　The_Ghost_of_Barry_Fairbrother；　just　as　a　besotted　lover　knows　at　once　the　back　of　their　beloved’s　head；　or　the　set　of　their　shoulders；　or　the　tilt　of　their　walk。

A　single　glimpse　at　the　topmost　message　sufficed：　excitement　exploded；　he　had　not　forsaken　her。　She　had　known　that　Dr　Jawanda’s　outburst　could　not　go　unpunished。

Affair　of　the　First　Citizen　of　Pagford

She　read　it；　but　did　not；　at　first；　understand：　she　had　been　expecting　to　see　Parminder’s　name。　She　read　it　again；　and　gave　the　suffocated　gasp　of　a　woman　being　hit　by　icy　water。

Howard　Mollison；　First　Citizen　of　Pagford；　and　long…standing　resident　Maureen　Lowe　have　been　more　than　business　partners　for　many　years。　It　is　mon　knowledge　that　Maureen　holds　regular　tastings　of　Howard’s　finest　salami。　The　only　person　who　appears　not　to　be　in　on　the　secret　is　Shirley；　Howard’s　wife。

pletely　motionless　in　her　chair；　Shirley　thought：　it’s　not　true。

It　could　not　be　true。

Yes；　she　had　once　or　twice　suspected　…　had　hinted；　sometimes；　to　Howard　…

No；　she　would　not　believe　it。　She　could　not　believe　it。

But　other　people　would。　They　would　believe　the　Ghost。　Everybody　believed　him。

Her　hands　were　like　empty　gloves；　fumbling　and　feeble；　as　she　tried；　with　many　a　blunder；　to　remove　the　message　from　the　site。　Every　second　that　it　remained　there；　somebody　else　might　be　reading　it；　believing　it；　laughing　about　it；　passing　it　to　the　local　newspaper　…　Howard　and　Maureen；　Howard　and　Maureen　…

The　message　was　gone。　Shirley　sat　and　stared　at　the　puter　monitor；　her　thoughts　scurrying　like　mice　in　a　glass　bowl；　trying　to　escape；　but　there　was　no　way　out；　no　firm　foothold；　no　way　of　climbing　back　to　the　happy　place　she　had　occupied　before　she　saw　that　dreadful　thing；　written　in　public　for　the　world　to　see　…

He　had　laughed　at　Maureen。

No；　she　had　laughed　at　Maureen。　Howard　had　laughed　at　Kenh。

Always　together：　holidays　and　workdays　and　weekend　excursions　…

…　only　person　who　appears　not　to　be　in　on　the　secret　…

…　she　and　Howard　did　not　need　sex：　separate　beds　for　years；　they　had　a　silent　understanding　…

…　holds　regular　tastings　of　Howard’s　finest　salami　…

（Shirley’s　mother　was　alive　in　the　room　with　her：　cackling　and　jeering；　a　glass　slopping　wine　…　Shirley　could　not　bear　dirty　laughter。　She　had　never　been　able　to　bear　ribaldry　or　ridicule。）

She　jumped　up；　tripping　over　the　chair　legs；　and　hurried　back　to　the　bedroom。　Howard　was　still　asleep；　lying　on　his　back；　making　rumbling；　porcine　noises。

‘Howard；’　she　said。　‘Howard。’

It　took　a　whole　minute　to　rouse　him。　He　was　confused　and　disorientated；　but　as　she　stood　over　him；　she　saw　him　still　as　a　knight　protector　who　could　save　her。

‘Howard；　the　Ghost　of　Barry　Fairbrother’s　put　up　another　message。’

Disgruntled　at　his　rude　awakening；　Howard　made　a　growling　groaning　noise　into　the　pillow。

‘About　you；’　said　Shirley。

They　did　very　little　plain　speaking；　she　and　Howard。　She　had　always　liked　that。　But　today　she　was　driven　to　it。

‘About　you；’　she　repeated；　‘and　Maureen。　It　says　you’ve　been　–　having　an　affair。’

His　big　hand　slid　up　over　his　face　and　he　rubbed　his　eyes。　He　rubbed　them　longer；　she　was　convinced；　than　he　needed。

‘What？’　he　said；　his　face　shielded。

‘You　and　Maureen；　having　an　affair。’

‘Where’s　he　get　that　from？’

No　denial；　no　outrage；　no　scathing　laughter。　Merely　a　cautious　request　for　a　source。

Ever　afterwards；　Shirley　would　remember　this　moment　as　a　death；　a　life　truly　ended。

VII
‘Fuckin’　shurrup；　Robbie！　Shur