gns.snakes-第18部分

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　　All　sorts　of　fears　crammed　his　frustrated　mind；　relegating　escaped　snakes　to　incidentals。　Maybe　the　Davis　family　had　left　Stainforth　for　the　time　being；　were　keeping　clear　until　it　was　safe。　Kirsten's　parents　were　like　that；　the　kind　who　would　have　fled　to　America　at　the　outbreak　of　war。　They　were　the　bloody　cowards；　not　him。
　　
　　Today　he　had　to　do　something　positive。
　　
　　'You　two　haven't　had　a　tiff；　have　you？'　Oh　Christ；　Mother　was　always　so　persistent；　never　let　anything　drop。
　　
　　'Of　course　not。　She　mentioned　something　about　they　might　be　going　to　stay　with　relatives　until　the　snakes　were　all　caught。'
　　
　　'Then　you　don't　have　any　reason　to　go　out；　Keith。'
　　
　　Oh　bloody　hell！　'I'm　going　up　to　Yardleys'。　All　I　have　to　do　there　is　to　cut　the　lawns。　I　don't　have　to　weed　overgrown　borders　where　。　。　。　where　snakes　might　be　lurking。'
　　
　　'The　lawns　don't　need　cutting。'　Joan　Doyle　was　tight…lipped；　clutching　at　straws　now。　'Nobody　wants　their　lawns　mowing　when　the　sun's　scorching　up　the　grass　day　after　day。　The　lawn　will　die　if　you　mow　it。'
　　
　　'It'll　grow　long　and　straggly　if　I　don't　take　the　top　off　it　very　soon。'
　　
　　'I　wanted　you　to　do　a　job　for　me　today。'
　　
　　'Like　what？'
　　
　　She　hesitated　for　a　second　or　two。　'The　garden　shed　needs　a　good　tidy　out。'
　　
　　'I　tidied　it　out　last　week；　or　hadn't　you　noticed？'
　　
　　'Oh　。。。　and　the　attic's　due　for　a　turn　out。　There's　so　much　lumber　up　there　now　that　there　isn't　room　to　put　anything　else　in　it。'
　　
　　'You'd　suffocate　up　there　in　weather　like　this；'　he　said；　walking　towards　the　door。　'I'm　going　up　to　the　Yardleys'。　I　could　be　back　mid…afternoon。　Depends　if　she　wants　me　to　do　anything　else　apart　from　mowing　the　lawns；　so　don't　you　get　fretting。'
　　
　　He　stepped　outside　into　the　hot　morning　sunlight；　slammed　the　door　behind　him；　end　of　bloody　conversation！　'Strewth；　it　was　going　to　be　a　bloody　stinker　again　today；　it　wasn't　nine　o'clock　yet　and　you　could　feel　the　heat　building　up。　He　looked　up　into　the　clear　blue　sky；　tried　to　spot　a　wisp　of　fluffy　white　cloud　somewhere　but　there　wasn't　one。　The　weathermen　had　it　easy；　they　did　not　even　have　to　rely　on　satellite　pictures。　Hot　and　dry；　outlook…continuing。
　　
　　Keith　reversed　the　van　out　into　the　road。　He　was　low　on　petrol；　the　needle　hovering　on　the　red　warning　line　at　the　bottom　of　the　gauge；　but　there　was　enough　to　get　him　up　to　the　Yardleys'　and　back。　Right　now　he　did　not　have　the　inclination　to　go　up　to　the　Esso　garage　on　the　main　road。
　　
　　As　he　pulled　away　he　became　aware　at　once　of　the　absence　of　parked　vehicles　along　the　village　main　street。　The　police　had　put　road…blocks　on　the　roads　leading　in　and　out　of　Stainforth。　You've　had　your　fun；　Joe　Public；　now　piss　off　and　let　us　deal　with　the　snakes。　There　would　doubtless　be　the　usual　outcry　from　those　evicted；　a　police　state　and　all　that　balls。
　　
　　The　van　missed；　picked　up　again。　It　was　due　for　a　service；　Keith　reminded　himself。　Maybe　tomorrow　he　would　go　up　to　the　garage；　fill　up　with　petrol　and　get　them　to　service　it。　There　wasn't　going　to　be　much　work　available　in　the　near　future。　Jesus　Christ；　fancy　Eversham　being　stupid　enough　to　go　out　after　the　snakes　in　the　barley。　The　firemen　had　found　his　charred　corpse　after　the　blaze　had　been　put　out。　Presumably　the　snakes　had　got　him。　They　had　certainly　killed　Barbara　Brown　and　her　baby。　Now　everybody　in　Stainforth　was　really　looking　over　their　shoulders。

　　
　　Keith　wondered　about　going　to　the　Evershams'　again。　Not　just　yet；　anyway。　Cynthia　Eversham　would　not　want　to　be　bothered　with　the　garden　for　some　time；　another　regular　job　gone　overboard　thanks　to　these　fucking　snakes。　She　would　probably　sell　up　and　go　back　down　south　to　her　family。
　　
　　The　Yardleys　lived　in　a　modern　detached　house　at　the　very　end　of　the　main　street。　A　stark　box；　'No　taste；'　as　everybody　in　the　village　said…a　box　and　a　quarter　of　an　acre　of　lawn。　They　had　not　even　got　any　borders。　Suburbia　had　e　to　Stainforth　with　disgusting　authenticity。
　　
　　He　pulled　his　van　into　the　tarmac　drive　and　the　engine　was　only　too　ready　to　die。　Climbing　out；　aware　of　the　stillness；　the　absence　of　muter　cars　backing　out　into　the　road；　heading　east　to　the　town。　Wasn't　anybody　going　to　work　today？　Maybe　everybody　had　moved　out　temporarily；　we'll　e　back　when　those　awful　snakes　have　gone。
　　
　　Eileen　Yardley　appeared　in　the　doorway　of　the　house；　an　expression　of　mingled　disbelief　and　disapproval　on　her　moonish　face。　Tall　and　thin；　any　grey　in　her　shoulder…length　hair　obliterated　by　a　jet…black　rinse；　she　had　a　reputation　for　plaining。　She　plained　regularly　to　the　council；　the　electricity　board；　the　post　office；　and　wrote　a　good　many　more　letters　to　the　local　newspaper　than　they　ever　published；　something　else　which　she　plained　about。　At　forty…five　she　was　reasonably　attractive　but　her　goal　in　life　was　a　mystery　to　everybody　who　knew　her。　She　was　in　search　of　some　level　of　status；　obviously；　and　perhaps　with　her　husband　having　failed　in　his　attempt　to　secure　promotion　at　the　local　council　then　she　had　to　draw　attention　to　herself；　a　constant　battle　to　get　her　own　way　against　the　System。　Nobody　really　knew　and　perhaps　she　did　not　either。
　　
　　'You're　not　going　to　work　today；　surely；　Mr　Doyle？'　A　harsh　accent　that　jarred　the　nerves　of　anybody　within　earshot。　'Not　in　this　terribly　hot　weather。　And　I　heard　you'd　had　a　most　frightful　experience　up　at　the　Evershams。'
　　
　　'Grossly　exaggerated。'　Christ；　he　couldn't　tell　the　whole　story　all　over　again。　'But　the　lawns　need　cutting；　Mrs　Yardley；　else　that　spiky　grass　will　grow　so　that　the　mower　won't　take　it；　I　thought　I'd　raise　the　blades　a　bit；　just　take　the　top　off；　tidy　it　up　a　bit。'
　　
　　'If　you　really　want　to。'　She　pulled　the　door　another　inch　or　two　towards　her；　she　ought　not　to　have　it　open　at　all。　'It's　entirely　up　to　you。　My　husband's　stopped　over　in　town；　these　road　blocks　waste　such　a　lot　of　time　and　in　the　evening　there　is　a　queue　almost　to　the　motorway。'
　　
　　With　any　other　woman　I'd　take　that　as　an　invitation；　Doyle　smiled　wryly。　Either　George　Yardley　was　staying　in　town　because　he　had　a　ready…made　excuse　to　be　away　from　his　wife's　incessant　plaining　or　else　he　was　scared　stiff　of　the　snakes。　Eileen　wouldn't　get　up　to　anything　whilst　he　was　away。　She　would　simply　brood　and　write　more　letters　to　the　paper。
　　
　　'You　do　what　you　think　best。'　There　was　only　a　crack　of　open　door　now；　the　dark…haired　woman　peering　out　from　behind　it。　'Ring　the　bell　when　you've　finished　and　I'll　pay　you　your　money。'
　　
　　He　walked　up　to　the　garage；　could　not　help　a　shudder　as　he　lifted　the　up…and…over　door；　all　so　reminiscent　of　the　Evershams'。　But；　like　a　racing　driver　who　has　walked　out　of　a　bad　pile…up；　he　had　to　get　right　back　behind　the　wheel　if　he　wasn't　going　to　lose　his　nerve。
　　
　　The　mower　was　a　fifteen…year…old　Atco。　You　tugged　your　guts　out　until　it　fired　and　then　dodged　the　cloud　of　pungent　fumes。　Keith　had　cleaned　the　plugs；　fiddled　with　the　carburettor　on　more　than　one　occasion　but　it　made　no　difference。　Age　caught　up　with　everything　eventually。
　　
　　The　lawn　was　virtually　a　patch　of　uncut　hay；　it　really　did　not　need　cutting。　An　excuse　really；　the　need　to　be　doing　something。　Anything。　But　whatever　he　did　he　could　not　get　Kirsten　off　his　mind。　He　had　to　know　today　what　had　bee　of　her；　whether　their　relationship　had　finally　tottered　over　the　brink。　He　could　not　stand　not　knowing　any　longer。
　　
　　Up　and　down　that　lawn；　cutting　dead　brown　swathes　that　would　need　weeks　of　rain　to　recover。　Emptying　the　grass…box　on　the　pile　behind　the　flowering　cherry　tree；　mowing　again；　now　hurrying　because　he　wanted　to　get　finished。　Then　he　would　go　up　to　the　Davis　household。　If　they　were　not　at　home　then　perhaps　the　neighbours　might　have　some　idea　where　they　had　gone。
　　
　　In　the　midst　of　his　thoughts　the　engine　stuttered；　cut　out　in　a　final　puff　of　two…stroke　smoke；　an　ageing　monster　that　had　finally　given　up　its　battle　with　life。
　　
　　Silence；　plete　and　utter。　You　could　not　even　hear　the　cars　on　the　distant　motorway。　It　was　like　standing　in　the　middle　of　a　ghost　village　that　stank　of　lawn　mower　fumes　and　burned　barley。　The　smell　of　death。
　　
　　'Hi；　there。'
　　
　　Keith　Doyle　turned　slowly；　saw　the　dark…bearded　young　man；　roughly　his　own　age；　ing　up　the　drive　towards　him。　He　nodded；　remembered　having　seen　him　around　the　village　but　could　not　quite　place　him。　A　visitor；　one　who　had　been　before。
　　
　　'You're　Keith　Doyle。'　The　stranger　extended　a　hand；　'My　name's　John　Price。　I'm　staying　down　at　Mrs　Harrison's。'
　　
　　'Of　course。'　Keith　just　checked　himself　from　blurting　out；　'The　old　lady　who　had　a　heart　attack　when　a　grass　snake　got　in　the　house？'　'You're　the　zoologist　who　is　helping　them　hunt　the　snakes。'　It　all　clicked　into　place。
　　
　　'That's　right。　And　not　having　much　luck；　I'm　afraid。　I　heard　about　your　own　experience；　it　must　have　been　absolutely　terrifying。'
　　
　　'I　had　a　near　scrape。'　Keith's　legs　felt　wobbly　just　recalling　that　flight　from　the　border　with　the　fattier　hard　after　him；　once　he　reached　the　garage；　though；　he