ib.thewaspfactory-第8部分

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ng　in　what　was　then　the　bicycle…shed　（now　my　shed）　when　our　cousin；　who　had　e　to　spend　the　weekend　with　us　along　with　his　parents；　decided　it　would　be　fun　to　ride　Eric's　bike　into　the　soft　mud　at　the　south　end　of　the　island。　This　he　duly　did　while　Eric　and　I　were　out　flying　kites。　Then　he　came　back　and　filled　the　Flame…thrower　with　petrol。　He　sat　in　the　back　garden　with　it；　obscured　from　the　windows　of　the　lounge　（where　his　parents　and　our　father　sat）　by　the　washing　blowing　in　the　breeze；　he　lit　the　'thrower　and　sprayed　our　two　hutches　with　flame；　incinerating　all　our　beauties。
　　
　　Eric　in　particular　was　very　upset。　He　cried　like　a　girl。　I　wanted　to　kill　Blyth　there　and　then；　the　hiding　he　got　from　his　father；　my　dad's　brother　James；　was　not　enough　as　far　as　I　was　concerned；　not　for　what　he'd　done　to　Eric；　my　brother。　Eric　was　inconsolable；　desperate　with　grief　because　he　had　made　the　thing　Blyth　had　used　to　destroy　our　beloved　pets。　He　always　was　a　bit　sentimental；　always　the　sensitive　one；　the　bright　one；　until　his　nasty　experience　everybody　was　sure　he　would　go　far。　Anyway；　that　was　the　start　of　the　Skull　Grounds；　the　area　of　the　big；　old；　partially　earthed…over　dune　behind　the　house　where　all　our　pets　went　when　they　died。　The　burned　rabbits　started　that。　Old　Saul　was　there　before　them；　but　that　was　just　a　one…off　thing。
　　
　　I　hadn't　said　anything　to　anybody；　even　Eric；　about　what　I　wanted　to　do　to　Blyth。　I　was　wise　in　my　childishness　even　then；　at　the　tender　age　of　five；　when　most　children　are　forever　telling　their　parents　and　friends　that　they　hate　them　and　they　wish　they　were　dead。　I　kept　quiet。
　　
　　When　Blyth　came　back　the　next　year　he　was　even　more　unpleasant　than　before；　having　lost　his　left　leg　from　above　the　knee　in　a　road　accident　（the　boy　he　was　playing　'chicken'　with　was　killed）。　Blyth　resented　his　handicap　bitterly；　he　was　ten　by　that　time；　and　very　active。　He　tried　to　pretend　that　the　nasty　pink　thing　he　had　to　strap　on　didn't　exist；　that　it　had　nothing　to　do　with　him。　He　could　just　about　ride　a　bike　and　he　liked　wrestling　and　playing　football；　usually　in　goal。　I　was　just　six　then；　and　while　Blyth　knew　that　I　had　had　some　sort　of　little　accident　when　I　was　much　younger　I　certainly　seemed　to　him　to　be　a　lot　more　able…bodied　that　he　was。　He　thought　it　was　great　fun　to　throw　me　about　and　wrestle　with　me　and　punch　and　kick　me。　I　made　a　convincing　show　of　joining　in　all　this　horse…play　and　appeared　to　enjoy　it　hugely　for　a　week　or　so　while　I　thought　about　what　I　could　do　to　our　cousin。
　　
　　My　other　brother；　a　full　brother；　Paul；　was　still　alive　at　the　time。　He；　Eric　and　I　were　supposed　to　keep　Blyth　entertained。　We　did　our　best；　taking　Blyth　to　our　favourite　places；　letting　him　play　with　our　toys；　and　playing　games　with　him。　Eric　and　I　had　to　restrain　him　at　times　when　he　wanted　to　do　something　like　throw　little　Paul　into　the　water　to　see　if　he'd　float；　or　like　when　he　wanted　to　fell　a　tree　over　the　railway　line　that　goes　through　Porteneil；　but　as　a　rule　we　got　on　surprisingly　well；　even　though　it　rankled　to　see　Eric；　who　was　the　same　age　as　Blyth；　obviously　in　fear　of　him。
　　
　　So　one　day；　very　hot　and　insecty；　with　a　faint　breeze　ing　in　off　the　sea；　we　were　all　lying　in　the　grass　on　the　flat　area　just　to　the　south　of　the　house。　Paul　and　Blyth　had　fallen　asleep；　and　Eric　was　lying　with　his　hands　behind　his　neck；　staring　drowsily　up　at　the　bright　blue。　Blyth　had　taken　off　the　hollow　plastic　leg　and　left　it　lying　tangled　in　its　straps　and　the　long　grass　blades。　I　watched　Eric　fall　slowly　asleep；　his　head　gently　tipping　to　one　side；　eyes　closing。　I　got　up　and　went　for　a　walk　and　ended　up　at　the　Bunker。　It　hadn't　assumed　the　full　importance　it　later　would　in　my　life；　though　I　already　liked　the　place　and　felt　at　home　in　its　coolness　and　dark。　It　was　an　old　concrete　pillbox　built　just　before　the　last　war　to　house　a　gun　covering　the　firth；　and　it　stuck　in　the　sand　like　a　big　grey　tooth。　I　went　inside　and　found　the　snake。　It　was　an　adder。　I　didn't　see　it　for　ages　because　I　was　too　busy　sticking　an　old　rotten　fence…post　out　through　the　slits　in　the　pillbox；　pretending　it　was　a　gun　and　firing　at　imaginary　ships。　It　was　only　after　I'd　stopped　doing　that　and　gone　into　the　corner　to　have　a　piss　that　I　looked　over　into　the　other　corner　where　there　was　a　pile　of　rusty　cans　and　old　bottles；　there　I　saw　the　jagged　stripes　of　the　sleeping　snake。
　　
　　I　decided　what　I　was　going　to　do　almost　immediately。　I　went　outside　quietly　and　found　a　length　of　driftwood　of　the　appropriate　shape；　came　back　to　the　Bunker；　caught　the　snake　by　the　neck　with　the　piece　of　wood　and　bundled　it　into　the　first　rusty　can　I　could　find　which　still　had　a　lid。
　　
　　I　don't　think　the　snake　had　fully　wakened　up　when　I　caught　it；　and　I　was　careful　not　to　jar　it　as　I　ran　back　to　where　my　brothers　and　Blyth　were　lying　on　the　grass。　Eric　had　rolled　over　and　had　one　hand　under　his　head；　the　other　over　his　eyes。　His　mouth　was　open　slightly　and　his　chest　moved　slowly。　Paul　lay　in　the　sunlight　curled　up　into　a　little　ball；　quite　still；　and　Blyth　was　lying　on　his　stomach；　hands　under　his　cheek；　the　stump　of　his　left　leg　drawn　up　in　the　flowers　and　the　grass；　sticking　out　from　his　shorts　like　some　monstrous　erection。　I　went　closer；　still　clutching　the　rusty　can　in　my　shadow。　The　gable　end　of　the　house　looked　down　on　us　from　about　fifty　metres　away；　windowless。　White　sheets　flapped　feebly　in　the　back　garden。　My　heart　beat　wildly　and　I　licked　my　lips。
　　
　　I　sat　down　by　the　side　of　Blyth；　careful　not　to　let　my　shadow　cross　his　face。　I　put　one　ear　to　the　can　and　held　it　still。　I　couldn't　hear　or　feel　the　snake　stir。　I　reached　for　Blyth's　artificial　leg；　lying　smooth　and　pink　by　the　small　of　his　back　and　in　his　shadow。　I　held　the　leg　to　the　can　and　took　the　lid　away；　sliding　the　leg　over　the　hole　as　I　did　so。　Then　I　slowly　turned　the　can　and　the　leg　the　other　way　up；　so　that　the　can　was　over　the　leg。　I　shook　the　can；　and　felt　the　snake　fall　into　the　leg。　It　didn't　like　it　at　first；　and　moved　and　beat　against　the　sides　of　the　plastic　and　the　neck　of　the　can　while　I　held　it　and　sweated；　listening　to　the　hum　of　the　insects　and　the　rustling　of　the　grass；　staring　at　Blyth　as　he　lay　there　still　and　silent；　his　dark　hair　ruffled　now　and　again　by　the　breeze。　My　hands　shook　and　the　perspiration　ran　into　my　eyes。
　　
　　The　snake　stopped　moving。　I　held　it　longer；　glancing　at　the　house　again。　Then　I　tipped　the　leg　and　the　can　over　until　the　leg　was　lying　at　the　same　angle　on　the　grass　as　it　had　been；　behind　Blyth。　I　took　the　can　carefully　away　at　the　last　moment。　Nothing　happened。　The　snake　was　still　inside　the　leg；　and　I　couldn't　even　see　it。　I　got　up；　walked　backwards　towards　the　nearest　dune；　threw　the　can　way　high　over　the　top　of　it；　then　came　back；　lay　down　where　I'd　been　sitting　earlier；　and　closed　my　eyes。
　　
　　Eric　woke　first；　then　I　opened　my　eyes　as　though　sleepily；　and　we　woke　little　Paul；　and　our　cousin。　Blyth　saved　me　the　trouble　of　suggesting　a　game　of　football　by　doing　it　himself。　Eric；　Paul　and　I　got　the　goalposts　together　while　Blyth　hurriedly　strapped　his　leg　on。
　　
　　Nobody　suspected。　From　the　first　moments；　when　my　brothers　and　I　stood　there　incredulous　as　Blyth　screamed　and　jumped　and　tugged　at　his　leg；　to　the　tearful　farewell　of　Blyth's　parents　and　Diggs　taking　statements　（a　bit　even　appeared　in　the　Inverness　Courier　which　was　picked　up　for　its　curiosity　value　by　a　couple　of　the　Fleet　Street　rags）；　not　one　person　even　suggested　that　it　might　have　been　anything　other　than　a　tragic　and　slightly　macabre　accident。　Only　I　knew　better。
　　
　　I　didn't　tell　Eric。　He　was　shocked　by　what　had　happened　and　genuinely　sorry　for　Blyth　and　his　parents。　All　I　said　was　that　I　thought　it　was　a　judgement　from　God　that　Blyth　had　first　lost　his　leg　and　then　had　the　replacement　bee　the　instrument　of　his　downfall。　All　because　of　the　rabbits。　Eric；　who　was　going　through　a　religious　phase　at　the　time　which　I　suppose　I　was　to　some　extent　copying；　thought　this　was　a　terrible　thing　to　say；　God　wasn't　like　that。　I　said　the　one　I　believed　in　was。
　　
　　At　any　rate；　such　was　the　reason　that　particular　patch　of　ground　got　its　name：　the　Snake　Park。
　　
　　I　lay　in　bed；　thinking　back　on　all　this。　Father　still　hadn't　e　back。　Perhaps　he　was　going　to　stay　out　all　night。　That　was　extremely　unusual；　and　rather　worrying。　Perhaps　he　had　been　knocked　down；　or　had　died　of　a　heart　attack。
　　
　　I've　always　had　a　rather　ambivalent　attitude　towards　something　happening　to　my　father；　and　it　persists。　A　death　is　always　exciting；　always　makes　you　realise　how　alive　you　are；　how　vulnerable　but　so…far…lucky；　but　the　death　of　somebody　close　gives　you　a　good　excuse　to　go　a　bit　crazy　for　a　while　and　do　things　that　would　otherwise　be　inexcusable。　What　delight　to　behave　really　badly　and　still　get　loads　of　sympathy！
　　
　　But　I'd　miss　him；　and　I　don't　know　what　the　legal　position　would　be　about　me　staying　on　here　by　myself。　Would　I　get　all　his　money？　That　would　be　good；　I　could　get　my　motorbike　now　instead　of　having　to　wait。　Jesus；　there'd　be　so　many　things　I　could　do　I　don't　even　know　where　to　start　thinking　about　them。　But　it　would　be　a　big　cha