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第33章

ib.thewaspfactory-第33章

小说: ib.thewaspfactory 字数: 每页4000字

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  'OK。 Well; I just thought I'd ring you and tell you I'm all right; and see how you are。'
  
  'I'm fine。 Are you sure you're OK; too?'
  
  'Yeah ; never felt better。 Feeling great。 I think it's my diet; all…'
  
  'Listen!' I broke in desperately; feeling my eyes widen as I thought of what I wanted to ask him。 'You didn't feel anything this morning; did you? About dawn? Anything? I mean; anything at all? Nothing inside you…ah…you didn't feel anything? Did you feel anything?'
  
  'What are you gibbering about?' Eric said; slightly angrily。
  
  'Did you feel anything this morning; very early?'
  
  'What on earth do you mean…〃feel anything〃?'
  
  'I mean did you experience anything; anything at all about dawn this morning?'
  
  'Well;' Eric said in measured tones; and slowly; 'Funny you should say that。。。。'
  
  'Yes ? Yes ?' I said excitedly; pressing the receiver so close to my mouth that my teeth clattered off the mouthpiece。
  
  'Not a damn thing。 This morning was one of the few I can honestly say I experienced not a thing;' Eric informed me urbanely。 'I was asleep。'
  
  'But you said you didn't sleep!' I said furiously。
  
  'Christ; Frank; nobody's perfect。' I could hear him start to laugh。
  
  'But…' I started。 I closed my mouth and gritted my teeth。 Once more; I closed my eyes。
  
  He said: ' Anyway; Frank; old sport; to be quite honest; this is getting boring。 I might call you again but; either way; I'll see you soon。 Ta ta。'
  
  Before I could say anything; the line went dead; and I was left fuming and belligerent; holding the telephone and glaring at it like it was to blame。 I considered hitting something with it; but decided that would be too much like a bad joke; so I slammed it down on the cradle instead。 It chimed once in response and I gave it another glare; then turned my back on it and stamped downstairs; threw myself into an easy chair and punched the buttons on the remote control for the television repeatedly through channel after channel time after time for about ten minutes。 At the end of that period I realised that I had got just as much out of watching three programmes simultaneously (the news; yet another awful American crime series and a programme on archaeology) as I ever got from watching the damn things separately。 I hurled the control unit away in disgust and stormed outside in the fading light to go and throw a few stones at the waves。
  
  
   9: What Happened to Eric
  
  
  I SLEPT fairly late; for me。 My father had arrived back at the house just as I returned from the beach; and I had gone to bed at once; so I had a good long sleep。 In the morning I called Jamie; got his mother; and found out he had gone to the doctor's but would be straight back。 I packed my day…pack and told my father I'd be back in the early evening; then set off for the town。
  
  Jamie was in when I got to his house。 We drank a couple of cans of the old Red Death and chatted away; then; after sharing in elevenses and some of his mother's home…made cakes; I left and made my way out of town for the hills behind。
  
  
  
  High on a heathered summit; a gentle slope of rock and earth above the Forestry mission's tree line; I sat on a big rock and ate my lunch。 I looked out over the heat…hazed distance; over Porteneil; the pastureland dotted white with sheep; the dunes; the dump; the island (not that you could see it as such; it looked like part of the land); the sands and the sea。 The sky held a few small clouds; it beat blue over the view; fading to paleness towards the horizon and the calm expanse of firth and sea。 Larks sung in the air above me and I watched a buzzard hover as it looked for movement in the grass and heather; broom and whin beneath。 Insects buzzed and danced; and I waved a fan of fern in front of my face to keep them away as I ate my sandwiches and drank my orange juice。
  
  To my left; the mounting peaks of the hills marched off northward; growing gradually higher as they went and fading into grey and blue; shimmering with distance。 I watched the town beneath me through the binoculars; saw trucks and cars make their way along the main road; and followed a train as it headed south; stopping in the town then going on again; snaking across the level ground before the sea。
  
  I like to get away from the island now and again。 Not too far; I still like to be able to see it if possible; but it is good to remove oneself sometimes and get a sense of perspective from a little farther away。 Of course; I know how small a piece of land it is; I'm not a fool。 I know the size of the planet and just how minuscule is that part of it I know。 I've watched too much television and seen too many nature and travel programmes not to appreciate how limited my own knowledge is in terms of first…hand experience of other places; but I don't want to go farther afield; I don't need to travel or see foreign climes or know different people。 I know who I am and I know my limitations。 I restrict my horizons for my own good reasons; fear…oh; yes; I admit it…and a need for reassurance and safety in a world which just so happened to treat me very cruelly at an age before I had any real chance of affecting it。
  
  Also; I have the lesson of Eric。
  
  Eric went away。 Eric; with all his brightness; all his intelligence and sensitivity and promise; left the island and tried to make his way; chose a path and followed it。 That path led to the destruction of most of what he was; changed him into a quite different person in whom the similarities to the sane young man he had been before only appeared obscene。
  
  But he was my brother; and I still loved him in a way。 I loved him despite his alteration the way; I suppose; he had loved me despite my disability。 That feeling of wanting to protect; I suppose; which women are supposed to feel for the young and men are meant to feel for women。
  
  Eric left the island before I was even born; only ing back for holidays; but I think that spiritually he was always there; and when he did return properly; a year after my little accident; when my father thought we both old enough for him to be able to look after the two of us; I didn't resent him being there at all。 On the contrary; we got on well from the start; and I'm sure I must have embarrassed him with my slavish following around and copying; though; being Eric; he was too sensitive to other people's feelings to tell me so and risk hurting me。
  
  When he was sent off to private schools I pined; when he came back on holidays I enthused; I jumped and bubbled and got excited。 Summer after summer we spent on the island; flying kites; making models from wood and plastic; Lego and Meccano and anything else we found lying about; building dams and constructing huts and trenches。 We flew model airplanes; sailed model yachts; built sand…yachts with sails and invented secret societies; codes and languages。 He told me stories; inventing them as he went along。 We played some stories out: brave soldiers in the dunes and fighting; winning and fighting and fighting and sometimes dying。 Those were the only times he deliberately hurt me; when his stories required his own heroic death and I would take it all too seriously as he lay expiring on the grass or the sands; having just blown up the bridge or the dam or the enemy convoy and like as not saved me from death; too; I would choke back tears and punch him lightly as I tried to change the story myself and he refused; slipping away from me and dying; too often dying。
  
  When he had his migraines…sometimes lasting days…I lived on edge; taking cool drinks and some food up to the darkened room on the second floor; creeping in; standing and shaking sometimes if he moaned and shifted on the bed。 I was wretched while he suffered; and nothing meant anything; the games and the stories seemed stupid and pointless; and only throwing stones at bottles or seagulls made much sense。 I went out fishing for gulls; determined things other than Eric should suffer: when he recovered it was like him ing back for the summer allover again; and I was irrepressib

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