ib.thewaspfactory-第40部分

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　　I　was　scanning　the　binoculars　over　that　view　to　the　south　when　I　saw　my　father。　I　went　over　him；　then　jerked　back。　He　disappeared；　then　reappeared。　He　was　on　the　path；　heading　for　the　town。　I　was　looking　over　to　where　the　Jump　was；　and　saw　him　climb　the　side　of　the　dune　I　liked　to　power　the　bike　down；　I　had　first　caught　sight　of　him　as　he　had　crested　the　Jump　itself。　As　I　watched；　he　seemed　to　stumble　on　the　path　just　before　the　summit　of　the　hill；　but　recovered　and　kept　going。　His　cap　vanished　over　the　far　side　of　the　dune。　I　thought　he　looked　unsteady；　as　though　he　was　drunk。
　　
　　I　put　the　glasses　down　and　rubbed　my　slightly　scratchy　chin。　This　was　unusual；　too。　He　hadn't　said　anything　about　going　into　the　town。　I　wondered　what　he　was　up　to。
　　
　　I　ran　down　the　dune；　leaped　the　stream　and　went　back　to　the　house　at　a　fast　cruise。　I　could　smell　whisky　when　I　went　through　the　back　door。　I　thought　back　to　how　long　ago　we　had　eaten　and　Mrs　Clamp　had　left。　About　an　hour；　an　hour　and　a　half。　I　went　into　the　kitchen；　where　the　smell　of　whisky　was　stronger；　and　there　on　the　table　lay　an　empty　half…bottle　of　malt；　one　glass　on　its　side　nearby。　I　looked　in　the　sink　for　another　glass；　but　there　were　only　dirty　dishes　lying　in　it。　I　frowned。
　　
　　It　was　unlike　my　father　to　leave　things　unwashed。　I　picked　up　the　whisky…bottle　and　looked　for　a　black　biro　mark　on　the　label；　but　there　was　nothing。　That　might　mean　it　had　been　a　fresh　bottle。　I　shook　my　head　to　myself；　wiped　my　forehead　with　a　dishcloth。　I　took　off　my　pocketed　waistcoat　and　laid　it　over　a　chair。
　　
　　I　went　out　into　the　hall。　As　soon　as　I　looked　upstairs　I　saw　that　the　phone　was　off　the　hook；　lying　by　the　side　of　the　set。　I　went　up　to　it　quickly；　picked　it　up。　It　was　making　an　odd　noise。　I　replaced　it　on　the　cradle；　waited　a　few　seconds；　picked　it　up　again　and　got　the　usual　dialling　tone。　I　threw　it　down　and　sprinted　upstairs　to　the　study；　twisting　the　handle　and　throwing　my　weight　against　it。　It　was　solid。
　　
　　'Shit！'　I　said。　I　could　guess　what　had　happened　and　I　had　hoped　my　father　might　have　left　the　study　unlocked。　Eric　must　have　called。　Dad　gets　the　call；　is　shocked；　gets　drunk。　Probably　heading　for　the　town　to　get　more　drink。　Gone　to　the　off…licence；　or…　I　glanced　at　my　watch…was　this　the　weekend　the　Rob　Roy's　all…day　licence　started　？　I　shook　my　head；　it　didn't　matter。　Eric　must　have　called。　My　father　was　drunk。　He　was　probably　going　to　town　to　get　more　drunk；　or　to　see　Diggs。　Or　maybe　Eric　had　arranged　a　rendezvous。　No；　that　wasn't　likely；　surely　he　would　contact　me　first。
　　
　　I　ran　upstairs；　went　up　into　the　close　heat　of　the　loft；　opened　the　land…side　skylight　again　and　surveyed　the　approaches　through　the　glasses。　I　came　back　down；　locked　the　house　and　went　back　out；　jogging　to　the　bridge　and　up　the　path；　making　detours　for　all　the　tall　dunes　once　more。　Everything　looked　normal。　I　stopped　at　the　place　I　had　last　seen　my　father；　just　on　the　crest　of　the　hill　leading　down　to　the　Jump。　I　scratched　my　crotch　in　exasperation；　wondering　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；