rr.eastofealing-第20部分

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　After　a　somewhat　pregnant　pause；　Jim　said；　'I've　had　enough　of　all　this；　John。'
　Omally　nodded　thoughtfully。　'It　is　not　very　much　to　my　own　liking；'　said　he；　gulping　away　the　nearest　pint。　'If　you　want　my　considered　opinion　I　feel　that　we　should　both　do　very　well　to　have　it　away　from　this　district　post　haste。'
　'Look　at　those　bastards。'　Jim　gestured　towards　the　brewery　henchmen　who　were　even　now　tearing　up　the　Swan's　antique　carpeting　to　run　a　power…line　across　the　floor。
　'Rio　would　be　your　man；'　said　John。　'Dusky　maidens　rolling　green　cigars　upon　their　bronzed　thighs。　A　train…robber　chum　of　mine　has　lodgings　thereabouts。　The　climate　so　they　say　is　ideal　for　the　professional　drinking　man　or　the　unemployed　war　criminal。'
　Pooley　considered　his　printed　palm。　'I　can't　be　having　with　all　this　stuff。　Things　are　no　longer　healthy　hereabouts。'
　'So　let　us　away。'
　Jim　chewed　upon　a　thumbnail。　'I　think　you're　right；'　said　he。　'But　what　about　all　this　Revelations　business？　Do　you　think　that　the　Professor　is　correct　in　his　theories？　If　it　is　the　end　of　the　world　then　it　might　catch　up　with　us　even　in　Rio。'
　Omally　downed　another　pint。　'I　have　my　doubts　about　the　whole　thing。　Listen；　with　the　old　currant　bun　beaming　down　and　a　bottle　or　two　of　duty…free　on　the　patio　table　we　can　give　the　matter　serious　thought。　What　do　you　say？'
　'I　say　it's　time　we　had　a　holiday。'
　'Good　man。　Now　the　travel　agent's　in　the　Baling　Road　closes　at　six；　I　can　be　up　there　in　five　minutes　on　the　bike　and　back　in　another　five；　I'll　book　us　aboard　an　aeroplane　for　first　thing　tomorrow。'
　'Do　it　then。'　Jim　dragged　out　another　bundle　of　banknotes　and　thrust　them　at　John。　'Go　at　once。　I'll　get　some　bottles　to　take　out；　this　place　is　beginning　to　depress　me。'
　'Right　then；　I　will　be　back　directly。'　Omally　left　the　Swan　and　mounted　up　Marchant；　who　had　set　himself　in　for　an　evening　kip。　He　bumped　down　the　kerb　and　pedalled　furiously　up　the　Haling　Road。　Cresting　the　railway　bridge　he　swept　down　the　other　side；　legs　outspread；　past　the　Mowlem's　building。　Without　warning　he　suddenly　came　into　contact　with　a　great　body　of　halted　traffic。　The　road　was　a　shambles　of　stalled　automobiles　and　shouting　drivers。　Cars　were　parked　at　crazy　angles　across　the　road；　and　those　at　the　vanguard　lay；　their　bonnets　stove　in　and　steam　issuing　from　their　shattered　radiators。　A　blank　wall　of　dark　light　rose　from　the　street　at　the　junction　with　the　Great　West　Road。　It　soared　into　the　sky；　an　impenetrable　barrier　blocking　all　further　progress。　Omally　dragged　on　his　brakes　but　his　iron　stallion　appeared　to　have　developed　ideas　of　its　own。　It　rocketed　him　headlong　into　the　boot　of　a　stalled　Morris　Minor。　John　sailed　forward　in　a　blizzard　of　whirling　banknotes；　to　tumble　down　on　to　the　bonnet　of　the　defunct　automobile　and　roll　on　to　the　roadway。　Cursing　and　spitting　he　slowly　dragged　himself　to　his　feet　and　stared　up　at　the　grim　barrier　ahead；　struck　dumb　with　amazement　and　disbelief。　The　curtains；　which　the　Professor　had　observed　for　so　many　weeks　through　his　rooftop　viewer；　had　finally　closed　upon　the　borders　of　the　Brentford　triangle。
　And　the　parish　was　now　pletely　sealed　off　from　the　outside　world。
　
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　As　word　spread　from　house　to　house　that　the　veil　was　drawn　down；　the　people　of　the　parish　flocked　into　the　streets。　They　flowed　hurriedly　towards　the　borders　to　stand；　their　noses　pressed　against　the　walls　of　hard　air；　staring　out　into　the　beyond。　The　vista；　normally　so　mundane　as　to　be　invisible；　now　assumed　a　quality　of　remoteness　and　unreality。　That　none　might　any　longer　pass　into　that　world　made　it　fairyland　and　the　figures　that　moved　there　became　exaggerated　and　larger　than　life。　And　though　they　shouted　and　coo…eed　and　smote　the　barrier　with　sticks　and　staves；　the　world　beyond　did　not　see　them；　nor　hear　their　cries　for　help。　The　world　beyond　simply　went　on　doing　that　which　it　had　always　done　…　which　wasn't　very　much；　although　it　seemed　so　now。　Although　the　trapped　people　watched　desperately　for　some　sign　which　might　signal　the　recognition　of　their　plight　by　the　free　folk；　who　now　passed　within　inches；　none　came。　Their　faces　never　turned　and　they　went　about　their　business　as　ever　they　had。　To　the　world　outside　it　seemed　that　Brentford　had　simply　ceased　to　exist。
　What　attempts　were　made　to　stir　up　a　bit　of　healthy　rioting　were　stifled　almost　as　soon　as　they　were　begun　by　the　arrival　of　police　snatch　squads。　Strange　pale　young　men　in　protective　uniforms；　sporting　minuscule　headphones；　and　carrying　small　black　boxes　attached　to　their　belts；　moved　swiftly　into　the　crowds　to　bear　away　the　outspoken　to　waiting　meat…wagons。　Those　who　had　voiced　plaint　reappeared　hours　later　passive　and　unplaining；　clearing　their　throats　before　speech　with　curiously　mechanical　coughing　sounds。　Brentford's　ghost　people　drifted　back　to　haunt　their　houses　and　closed　their　doors　behind　them。
　Days　began　to　pass　one　upon　another；　each　one　the　same　as　the　last。　Pooley　and　Omally　sat　in　the　Swan　bitterly　regarding　the　new　barman　as　he　soullessly　directed　the　redecoration　of　the　grand　old　watering　hole。　Through　the　Swan's　upper　windows；　now　being　double…glazed；　the　dark　walls　shimmered。　Beyond　them　the　sun　shone；　but　here　in　Brentford　a　thin　drizzle　hissed　upon　the　pavements　and　trickled　down　the　gutters。　Old　Pete　hobbled　in；　shaking　rain　from　his　cap　and　muttering　under　his　breath。　As　he　passed　his　coinage　over　the　counter　the　young　barman　tut…tutted　and　warned　him　that　such　cash　transactions　would　soon　be　impermissible。　Old　Pete　muttered　something　in　reply　but　it　was　only　the　word　'pox'　that　caught　the　ears　of　John　and　Jim。　Pooley　lit　up　a　Passing　Cloud　and　drew　deeply　upon　it；　he　opened　his　mouth　to　speak　but　no　word　came。　Omally　read　the　expression　and　the　open　mouth　and　nodded　hopelessly。　There　was　no　need　for　either　question　or　answer；　nobody　knew　what　they　were　going　to　do　next；　or　even　why。　When　the　barman　called　time　six　minutes　early　the　two　men　parted　with　no　words　spoken　and　wandered　away　into　the　night。　
　The　disappointments　and　the　hopelessness　of　it　all　were　beginning　to　take　their　irrevocable　toll。
　Pooley　lay　on　his　bed；　hands　cupped　behind　his　head；　awake　to　the　sounds　of　the　night。　The　room　was　now　heaped　with　a　pointless　array　of　useless　and　expensive　articles。　The　wardrobe　overspilled　with　tailor…made　suits；　shirts；　and　shoes。　Quadrophonic　record　players；　all　lacking　plugs；　and　most　not　even　unpacked　from　their　boxes；　lay　half…hidden　beneath　every　Frankie　Laine　record　Jim　had　always　promised　himself。　He　had　riffled　every　Brentford　store　in　the　vain　attempt　to　spend　his　wealth。　Finding　an　estate　agent　with　property　deeds　still　for　sale　he　had　purchased　all　available　for　wallpaper。　The　things　he　ordered　arrived　by　the　hour；　to　lie　in　soaking　stacks　on　the　pavement。　Jim　went　about　the　business　with　a　will　but；　as　with　everything　now；　the　task　was　hopeless。　He　could　never　outspend　his　own　wealth。　Progress　across　the　cluttered　room　was　made　the　more　precarious　for　fear　of　sinking　to　his　doom　in　the　marshland　of　expensive　shagpile　carpets　heaped　one　upon　another。　He　should　have　been　sleeping　the　sleep　of　the　drunk；　but　no　matter　how　many　pints　he　struggled　to　down；　nowadays　he　still　remained　fiercely　sober。　None　of　it　made　the　slightest　bit　of　sense　to　Jim；　there　seemed　no　purpose　to　any　last　bit　of　it。
　Pooley　pressed　the　time…speak　button　on　his　brand　new　Lateinos　and　Romiith　wristlet　watch。　'Eleven　forty…five　and　all　is　well；　Jim；'　said　the　polite　little　voice。　Pooley　made　an　unseemly　sound　and　suggested　that　all　was　very　far　from　being　that。　Professor　Slobe　had　called　him　and　John　to　a　midnight　rendezvous　this　very　night。　No　doubt　the　Professor　felt　the　need　to　impart　to　them　more　prophecies　of　impending　doom。　Jim　did　not　relish　the　thought。　And　to　think　that　he　had　once　considered　the　old　man　to　be　a　stimulating　conversationalist　and　source　of　enlightenment。
　He　climbed　down　from　the　most　expensive　mattress　printed　palms　could　buy　and　sought　out　a　pair　of　matching　shoes　from　the　undisciplined　regiment　which　stood　before　him。　Having　kicked　about　for　several　minutes；　to　Jim's　immense　chagrin　he　unearthed　one　lone　matched　set；　his　tired　old　work…boots。　Muttering　something　about　the　curse　of　the　Pooleys；　Jim　drew　the　wretched　articles　on　to　his　naked　feet。　Having　recently　had　a　nasty　experience　in　the　bathroom　with　a　puterized　umbrella　which　opened　automatically　upon　contact　with　water；　he　left　the　thing　rolled　up　under　the　bed；　and　braved　the　drizzle　in　a　new　tweed　shooting　jacket　with　matching　cap。　Neither　fitted。　Jim　shook　his　head　…　everything　money　could　buy；　but　it　was　all　rubbish。　The　new　calfskin　waistcoat　had　looked　a　bundle　in　the　shop；　but　no　sooner　home　than　the　buttons　had　begun　to　fall　off　and　the　leathery　smell　vanished　away　to　be　replaced　by　one　of　plastic。　The　same　smell　which　permeated　everything　he　had　bought。　Jim　sniffed　at　the　'tweed'　jacket。　Yes；　even　that。　Bewailing　the　millionaire's　lot；　Pooley　slouched　on　to　the　Professor's。
　Omally　was　already　there；　fortably　ensconced　'　in　a　fireside　chair；　wearing　a　natty　three…piece　whistle　Jim　had　given　him；　his　right　hand　wrapped　about　a　whisky　glass。　Professor　Slobe　was　at　his　desk　amongst　his　books　and