ib.thewaspfactory-第17章

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　　'Yes；　they　do。　I'm　going　now。　You　hit　the　bell　really　hard　and　I'll　listen　really　hard；　right？'
　　
　　'Yes；　Frank。'
　　
　　'You　won't　hit　the　bell　until　I　wave；　will　you？'
　　
　　He　shook　his　head。　'Pomiss。'
　　
　　'Good。　Won't　be　long。'　I　turned　and　started　to　head　for　the　dunes　at　a　slow　run。　My　back　felt　funny。　I　looked　round　as　I　went；　checking　there　was　nobody　about。　There　were　only　a　few　gulls；　though；　wheeling　in　a　sky　shot　with　ragged　clouds。
　　
　　Over　my　shoulder　when　I　looked　back；　I　saw　Paul。　He　was　still　by　the　bomb；　whacking　the　sand　with　his　plank；　using　both　hands　to　hold　it　and　bringing　it　down　with　all　his　strength；　jumping　up　in　the　air　at　the　same　time　and　yelling。　I　ran　faster；　over　the　rocks　on　to　the　firm　sand；　over　the　driftline　and　on　up　to　the　golden　sand；　slower　and　dry；　then　up　to　the　grass　on　the　nearest　dune。　I　scrambled　to　the　top　and　looked　out　over　the　sand　and　rocks　to　where　Paul　stood；　a　tiny　figure　against　the　reflected　brightness　of　the　pools　and　wet　sands；　overshadowed　by　the　tilted　cone　of　metal　beside　him。　I　stood　up；　waited　until　he　noticed　me；　took　one　last　look　round；　then　waved　my　hands　high　over　my　head　and　threw　myself　flat。
　　
　　While　I　was　lying　there；　waiting；　I　realised　that　I　hadn't　told　Paul　where　to　hit　the　bomb。　Nothing　happened。　I　lay　there　feeling　my　stomach　sinking　slowly　into　the　sand　on　the　top　of　the　dune。　I　sighed　to　myself　and　looked　up。
　　
　　Paul　was　a　distant　puppet；　jerking　and　leaping　and　throwing　back　his　arms　and　whacking　the　bomb　repeatedly　on　the　side。　I　could　just　hear　his　lusty　yells　over　the　whisper　of　the　grass　in　the　wind。　'Shit；'　I　said　to　myself；　and　put　my　hand　under　my　chin　just　as　Paul；　after　a　quick　glance　in　my　direction；　started　to　attack　the　nose　of　the　bomb。　He　had　hit　it　once　and　I　had　taken　my　hand　out　from　under　my　chin　preparatory　to　ducking　when　Paul；　the　bomb　and　its　little　halo…pool　and　everything　else　for　about　ten　metres　around　suddenly　vanished　inside　a　climbing　column　of　sand　and　steam　and　flying　rock；　lit　just　the　once　from　inside；　in　that　blindingly　brief　first　moment；　by　the　high　explosive　detonating。
　　
　　The　rising　tower　of　debris　blossomed　and　drifted；　starting　to　fall　as　the　shockwave　pulsed　at　me　from　the　dune。　I　was　vaguely　aware　of　a　lot　of　small　sandslips　along　the　drying　faces　of　the　nearby　dunes。　The　noise　rolled　over　then；　a　twisting　crack　and　belly…rumble　of　thunder。　I　watched　a　gradually　widening　circle　of　splashes　go　out　from　the　centre　of　the　explosion　as　the　debris　came　back　to　earth。　The　pillar　of　gas　and　sand　was　pulled　out　by　the　wind；　darkening　the　sand　under　its　shadow　and　forming　a　curtain　of　haze　under　its　base　like　you　see　under　a　heavy　cloud　sometimes　as　it　starts　to　get　rid　of　its　rain。　I　could　see　the　crater　now。
　　
　　I　ran　down。　I　stood　about　fifty　metres　away　from　the　still　steaming　crater。　I　didn't　look　too　closely　at　any　of　the　bits　and　pieces　lying　around；　squinting　at　them　from　the　side　of　my　eye；　wanting　and　not　wanting　to　see　bloody　meat　or　tattered　clothing。　The　noise　rumbled　back　uncertainly　from　the　hills　beyond　the　town。　The　edge　of　the　crater　was　marked　with　huge　splinters　of　stone　torn　up　from　the　bedrock　under　the　sands；　they　stood　like　broken　teeth　around　the　scene；　pointing　at　the　sky　or　fallen　slanted　over。　I　watched　the　distant　cloud　from　the　explosion　drift　away　over　the　firth；　dispersing；　then　I　turned　and　ran　as　fast　as　I　could　for　the　house。
　　
　　So　nowadays　I　can　say　it　was　a　German　bomb　of　five　hundred　kilograms　and　it　was　dropped　by　a　crippled　He。　III　trying　to　get　back　to　its　Norwegian　base　after　an　unsuccessful　attack　on　the　flying…boat　base　farther　down　the　firth。　I　like　to　think　it　was　the　gun　in　my　bunker　that　hit　it　and　forced　the　pilot　to　turn　tail　and　dump　his　bombs。
　　
　　The　tips　of　some　of　those　great　splinters　of　igneous　rock　still　stick　above　the　surface　of　the　long…returned　sand；　and　they　form　the　Bomb　Circle；　poor　dead　Paul's　most　fitting　monument：　a　blasphemous　stone　circle　where　the　shadows　play。
　　
　　I　was　lucky；　again。　Nobody　saw　anything；　and　nobody　could　believe　that　I　had　done　it。　I　was　distracted　with　grief　this　time；　torn　by　guilt；　and　Eric　had　to　look　after　me　while　I　acted　my　part　to　perfection；　though　I　say　it　myself。　I　didn't　enjoy　deceiving　Eric；　but　I　knew　it　was　necessary；　I　couldn't　tell　him　I'd　done　it　because　he　wouldn't　have　understood　why　I'd　done　it。　He　would　have　been　horrified；　and　very　likely　never　have　been　my　friend　again。　So　I　had　to　act　the　tortured；　self…blaming　child；　and　Eric　had　to　fort　me　while　my　father　brooded。
　　
　　Actually；　I　didn't　like　the　way　Diggs　questioned　me　about　what　had　happened；　and　for　a　few　moments　I　thought　he　might　have　guessed；　but　my　replies　seemed　to　satisfy　him。　It　didn't　help　that　I　had　to　call　my　father　'uncle'　and　Eric　and　Paul　'cousins'；　this　was　my　father's　idea　of　trying　to　fool　the　policeman　about　my　parentage　in　case　Diggs　did　any　asking　around　and　discovered　that　I　didn't　exist　officially。　My　story　was　that　I　was　the　orphaned　son　of　my　father's　long…lost　younger　brother；　and　only　staying　on　occasional　extended　holidays　on　the　island　while　I　was　passed　from　relative　to　relative　and　my　future　was　decided。
　　
　　Anyway；　I　got　through　this　tricky　interval；　and　even　the　sea　co…operated　for　once；　ing　in　just　after　the　explosion　and　sweeping　away　any　tell…tale　tracks　I　might　have　left　an　hour　or　more　before　Diggs　arrived　from　the　village　to　inspect　the　scene。
　　
　　Mrs　Clamp　was　at　the　house　when　I　got　back；　unloading　the　huge　wicker　hopper　on　the　front　of　her　ancient　bike　which　lay　propped　against　the　kitchen　table。　She　was　busy　stuffing　our　cupboards；　the　fridge　and　the　freezer　with　the　food　and　supplies　she　had　brought　from　the　town。
　　
　　'Good　morning；　Mrs　Clamp；'　I　said　pleasantly　as　I　entered　the　kitchen。　She　turned　to　look　at　me。　Mrs　Clamp　is　very　old　and　extremely　small。　She　looked　me　up　and　down　and　said；　'Oh；　it's　you；　is　it？'　and　turned　back　to　the　wicker　hopper　on　the　bike；　delving　into　its　depths　with　both　hands；　surfacing　with　long　packages　wrapped　in　newspaper。　She　staggered　over　to　the　freezer；　climbed　on　to　a　small　stool　by　its　side；　unwrapped　the　packages　to　reveal　frozen　packs　of　my　beefburgers；　and　placed　them　in　the　freezer；　leaning　over　it　until　she　was　almost　inside。　It　struck　me　how　easy　it　would　be　to…　I　shook　my　head　clear　of　the　silly　thought。　I　sat　down　at　the　kitchen　table　to　watch　Mrs　Clamp　work。
　　
　　'How　are　you　keeping　these　days；　Mrs　Clamp？'　I　asked。
　　
　　'Oh；　I'm　well　enough；'　Mrs　Clamp　said；　shaking　her　head　and　ing　down　off　the　stool；　picking　up　some　more　frozen　burgers　and　going　back　to　the　freezer。　I　wondered　if　she　might　ever　get　frostbite；　I　was　sure　I　could　see　little　crystals　of　ice　glinting　on　her　faint　moustache。
　　
　　'My；　that's　a　big　load　you've　brought　for　us　today。　I'm　surprised　you　didn't　fall　over　on　the　way　here。'
　　
　　'You　won't　catch　me　falling　over；　no。'　Mrs　Clamp　shook　her　head　once　more；　went　to　the　sink；　reached　up　and　over　while　on　her　tip…toes；　turned　on　the　hot　water；　rinsed　her　hands；　wiped　them　on　her　blue…check；　bri…nylon　work…coat　and　took　some　cheese　from　the　bike。
　　
　　'Can　I　make　you　a　cup　of　something；　Mrs　Clamp？'
　　
　　'Not　for　me；'　Mrs　Clamp　said；　shaking　her　head　inside　the　fridge；　slightly　below　the　height　of　the　ice…making　partment。
　　
　　'Oh；　well；　I　won't；　then。'　I　watched　her　wash　her　hands　one　more　time。　While　she　started　sorting　out　the　lettuce　from　the　spinach　I　took　my　leave　and　went　up　to　my　room。
　　
　　We　ate　our　usual　Saturday　lunch：　fish；　with　potatoes　from　the　garden。　Mrs　Clamp　was　at　the　other　end　of　the　table　from　my　father　instead　of　me；　as　is　traditional。　I　sat　halfway　down　the　table　with　my　back　to　the　sink；　arranging　fish　bones　in　meaningful　patterns　on　the　plate　while　Father　and　Mrs　Clamp　exchanged　very　formal；　almost　ritualised　pleasantries。　I　made　a　tiny　human　skeleton　with　the　bones　of　the　dead　fish　and　distributed　a　little　ketchup　about　it　to　make　it　more　realistic。
　　
　　'More　tea；　Mr　Cauldhame？'　Mrs　Clamp　said。
　　
　　'No；　thank　you；　Mrs　Clamp；'　my　father　replied。