ib.thewaspfactory-第36部分

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ing　what　was　the　best　thing　to　do。　I　didn't　feel　right　about　leaving　the　island；　but　I　had　a　suspicion　that　it　was　in　or　near　the　town　that　things　might　start　happening。　I　thought　of　calling　Jamie　up；　but　he　probably　wasn't　in　the　best　condition　to　go　traipsing　round　Porteneil　looking　for　Father　or　keeping　his　nostrils　open　for　the　smell　of　burning　dog。
　　
　　I　sat　down　on　the　path　and　tried　to　think。　What　would　Eric's　next　move　be？　He　might　wait　for　night　to　approach　（I　was　sure　he　would　approach；　he　wouldn't　e　all　this　way　just　to　turn　away　at　the　last　moment；　would　he？）；　or　he　might　have　risked　enough　already　in　telephoning　and　consider　he　had　little　left　to　lose　by　heading　for　the　house　right　away。　But　of　course　he　might　as　well　have　done　that　yesterday；　so　what　was　keeping　him　？　He　was　planning　something。　Or　maybe　I　had　been　too　abrupt　with　him　on　the　phone。　Why　had　I　hung　up　on　him？　Idiot！　Perhaps　he　was　going　to　give　himself　up；　or　turn　tail！　All　because　I　had　rejected　him；　his　own　brother！
　　
　　I　shook　my　head　angrily　and　stood　up。　None　of　this　was　getting　me　anywhere。　I　had　to　assume　that　Eric　was　going　to　get　in　touch。　That　meant　that　I　had　to　go　back　to　the　house；　where　either　he　would　phone　me　or　he　would　arrive　sooner　or　later。　Besides；　it　was　the　centre　of　my　power　and　strength；　and　also　the　place　I　had　the　most　need　to　protect。　Thus　resolved；　heart　lightened　now　that　I　had　a　definite　plan…even　if　it　was　more　a　plan　of　inaction　than　anything　else…I　turned　for　the　house　and　jogged　back。
　　
　　The　house　had　grown　still　more　stuffy　while　I　had　been　away。
　　
　　I　plonked　myself　down　in　a　chair　in　the　kitchen；　then　got　up　to　wash　the　glass　and　dispose　of　the　whisky…bottle。　I　had　a　long　drink　of　orange　juice；　then　filled　a　pitcher　full　of　juice　and　ice；　took　a　couple　of　apples；　half　a　loaf　of　bread　and　some　cheese　and　transported　the　lot　up　into　the　attic。　I　got　the　chair　which　normally　sits　in　the　Factory　and　propped　it　up　on　a　platform　of　ancient　encyclopedias；　swung　the　skylight　facing　the　mainland　right　back；　and　made　a　cushion　from　some　old；　faded　curtains。
　　
　　I　settled　into　my　little　throne　and　started　watching　through　the　binoculars。　After　a　while　I　fished　out　the　old　bakelite…and…valves　radio　from　the　back　of　a　box　of　toys　and　plugged　it　into　the　second　light　fixture　with　an　adaptor。　I　turned　on　Radio　Three；　which　was　playing　a　Wagner　opera；　just　the　thing　to　put　me　in　the　mood；　I　thought。　I　went　back　to　the　skylight。　Holes　had　broken　in　the　cloud…cover　in　a　few　places；　they　moved　slowly；　putting　patches　of　land　into　a　brassy；　glaring　sunlight。　Sometimes　the　light　shone　on　the　house；　I　watched　the　shadow　of　my　shed　move　slowly　round　as　the　late　afternoon　became　early　evening　and　the　sun　moved　round　above　the　frayed　clouds。　A　slow　pattern　of　reflecting　windows　glinted　from　the　new　housing　estate　in　the　trees；　slightly　above　the　old　part　of　the　town。　Gradually　one　set　of　windows　stopped　reflecting；　gradually　others　took　their　place；　all　punctuated　by　occasional　stabs　as　windows　were　shut　or　opened；　or　cars　moved　in　the　council　streets。　I　drank　some　of　the　juice；　held　ice　cubes　in　my　mouth；　while　the　hot　breath　of　the　house　wafted　out　around　me。　I　kept　the　binoculars　on　their　steady　sweepings；　scanning　as　far　to　the　north　and　south　as　I　could　without　falling　out　of　the　skylight。　The　opera　ended；　was　replaced　by　some　awful　modern　music　for　what　sounded　like　Heretic…on…a…rack　and　Burning　Dog；　which　I　let　play　because　it　was　stopping　me　from　getting　sleepy。
　　
　　Just　after　half…past　six；　the　phone　rang。　I　leaped　out　of　the　chair；　dived　down　the　door　out　of　the　loft　and　skidded　down　the　stairs；　flicking　the　phone　off　the　cradle　and　up　to　my　mouth　in　one　clean　movement。　I　felt　a　buzz　of　excitement　at　how　well　co…ordinated　I　was　today；　and　said；　quite　calmly：　'Yes？'
　　
　　'Frang？'　my　father's　voice　said；　slow　and　slurred。　'Frang；　iss　at　you？'
　　
　　I　let　the　contempt　I　felt　creep　into　my　voice：　'Yes；　Dad；　it's　me。　What　is　it？'
　　
　　''M　in　the　town；　son；'　he　said　quietly；　as　though　he　was　about　to　start　crying。　I　heard　him　take　a　deep　breath。　'Frang；　you　know　've　always　loved　you。。。　'm　。。。　'm　callin'　。。。。　callin'　from　the　town；　son。　Want　you　to　e　here；　son；　want　you　to　e。。。　e　here。　They've　caught　Eric；　son。'
　　
　　I　froze。　I　stared　at　the　wallpaper　above　the　little　table　in　the　corner　of　the　turn　of　the　stairs　where　the　phone　sat。　The　wallpaper　was　a　leafy　pattern；　green　on　white；　with　a　sort　of　trellis…work　peeping　through　the　greenery　in　places。　It　was　slightly　squint。　I　hadn't　really　noticed　that　wallpaper　for　years；　certainly　not　in　all　the　years　I　had　been　answering　the　phone。　It　was　horrible。　My　father　was　a　fool　to　have　chosen　it。
　　
　　'Frang？'　He　cleared　his　throat。　'Frank；　son？'　he　said；　almost　clearly；　then　relapsed：　'Frang；　ari　therr？　Say　somin；　son。　'S　me。　Say　somin；　son。　Ah　said　they　caugh'　Eric。　Ji　hear；　son？　Frang；　istill　therr？'
　　
　　'I…'　My　dry　mouth　tripped　me；　and　the　sentence　died。　I　cleared　my　throat　carefully；　began　again。　'I　heard　you；　Dad。　They've　caught　Eric。　I　heard。　I'll　be　right　in。　Where'll　I　meet　you；　at　the　police　station？'
　　
　　'Naw；　naw；　son。　Naw；　mee'　me　ou'side　the。。。　ou'side　the　。。。　lib'ary。　Yeah；　the　lib'ary。　Mee'　me　therr。'
　　
　　'The　library？'　I　said。　'Why　there？'
　　
　　'Righ'；　see　y'；　son。　Mon　hurry　up；　eh？'　I　heard　him　clatter　the　receiver　for　a　few　seconds；　then　the　line　went　quiet。　I　put　the　phone　down　slowly；　feeling　a　sharpness　in　my　lungs；　a　steely　sensation　that　went　with　the　thudding　of　my　heart　and　my　lightened　head。
　　
　　I　stood　for　a　while；　then　went　back　up　the　stairs　to　the　loft　to　close　the　skylight　and　turn　the　radio　off。　My　legs　were　a　little　sore　and　tired；　I　realised　；　perhaps　I　had　been　overdoing　things　a　bit　recently。
　　
　　The　breaks　in　the　cloud　overhead　were　moving　slowly　inland　as　I　walked　back　up　the　path　towards　the　town。　It　was　dark　for　half…seven；　a　summery　gloom　of　soft　light　everywhere　over　the　dry　land。　A　few　birds　stirred　themselves　lethargically　as　I　went　past。　Quite　a　few　were　perching　on　the　wires　of　the　telephone　line　snaking　its　way　to　the　island　on　skinny　poles。　Sheep　made　their　ugly；　broken　noises；　little　lambs　bleated　back。　Birds　sat　on　barbed…wire　fences　farther　on；　where　the　snagged　tufts　of　dirty　wool　showed　the　sheep　trails　underneath。　Despite　all　the　water　I　had　drunk　during　the　day；　my　head　was　starting　to　ache　dully　again。　I　sighed　and　kept　on　walking；　through　the　slowly　diminishing　dunes　and　past　the　rough　fields　and　straggly　pastureland。
　　
　　I　sat　down；　back　against　sand；　just　before　I　left　the　dunes　entirely；　and　wiped　my　brow。　I　flicked　a　little　sweat　from　my　fingers；　looked　out　over　the　static　sheep　and　the　perched　birds。　In　the　town　I　could　hear　bells；　probably　from　the　Catholic　chapel。　Or　maybe　the　word　had　spread　their　bloody　dogs　were　safe。　I　sneered；　snorted　through　my　nose　in　a　sort　of　half…laugh；　and　looked　over　the　grass　and　scrub　and　weed　to　the　steeple　of　the　Church　of　Scotland。　I　could　almost　see　the　library　from　here。　I　felt　my　feet　plain；　and　knew　that　I　shouldn't　have　sat　down。　They'd　be　sore　when　I　started　walking　again。　I　knew　damn　well　that　I　was　just　delaying　getting　to　the　town；　just　as　I　had　delayed　leaving　the　house　after　my　father　had　telephoned。　I　looked　back　at　the　birds；　strung　like　notes　along　the　same　wires　which　had　brought　the　news。　They　were　avoiding　one　section；　I　noticed。
　　
　　I　frowned；　looked　closer；　frowned　again。　I　felt　for　my　binoculars；　but　I　touched　my　own　chest；　I　had　left　them　back　at　the　house。　I　got　up　and　started　walking　across　the　rough　ground；　away　from　the　path；　then　I　jogged；　then　I　ran；　finally　sprinting　across　the　weeds　and　rushes；　vaulting　a　fence　on　to　the　pasture　where　the　sheep　rose　and　scattered；　cackling　plaintively。
　　
　　I　was　breathless　by　the　time　I　got　to　the　telephone　line。
　　
　　And　it　was　down。　The　freshly　cut　wire　hung　against　the　wood　of　the　land…side　pole。　I　looked　up；　made　sure　I　wasn't　seeing　things。　A　few　of　the　birds　nearby　had　flown　off；　and　they　circled；　calling　in　their　dark　voices　through　the　almost　still　air　over　the　parched　grass。　I　ran　down　to　the　island…side　pole　on　the　other　side　of　the　break。　An　ear；　covered　in　short　white　and　black　fur；　and　still　bleeding；　was　nailed　to　the　wood。
　　
　　I　touched　it　and　I　smiled。　I　looked　round　wildly；　then　calmed　myself　again。　I　set　my　face　to　the　town　where　the　steeple　pointed　like　a　finger；　accusatory。
　　
　　'You　lying　bastard；　；　I　breathed；　then　took　off　for　the　island　again；　gathering　pace　as　I　went；　hitting　the　path　and　letting　rip；　pounding　down　its　beaten　surface；　careering　down　to　the　Jump　and　sailing　over　it。　I　shouted　and　whooped；　then　I　shut　up；　and　kept　my　precious　breath　for　running。
　　
　　I　got　back　to　the　house；　yet　again；　and　raced　up　lathered　in　sweat　to　the　loft；　stopping　briefly　at　the　telephone　to　check　it。
　　
　　Sure　enough；　it　was　quite　dead。　I　ran　on　upstairs；　back　to　the　loft　and　the　skylight；　took　a　quick　look　round　with　the　glasses；　then　got　myself　together；　arming　and　checking。　I　settled　back　into　the　chair；　switched　the　radio　back　on；　and　kept　looking。
　　
　　He