sk.theshining-第77节

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　　Not　for　the　world。
　　　
　　　》
　　CONVERSATIONS　AT　THE　PARTY
　　
　　He　was　dancing　with　a　beautiful　woman。
　　He　had　no　idea　what　time　it　was；　how　long　he　had　spent　in　the　Colorado　Lounge　or　how　long　he　had　been　here　in　the　ballroom。　Time　had　ceased　to　matter。
　　He　had　vague　memories：　listening　to　a　man　who　had　once　been　a　successful　radio　ic　and　then　a　variety　star　in　TV'；　infant　days　telling　a　very　long　and　very　hilarious　joke　about　incest　between　Siamese　twins；　seeing　the　woman　in　the　harem　pants　and　the　sequined　bra　do　a　slow　and　sinuous　striptease　to　some　bumping…and…　grinding　music　from　the　jukebox　（it　seemed　it　had　been　David　Rose's　theme　music　from　The　Stripper）；　crossing　the　lobby　as　one　of　three；　the　other　two　men　in　evening　dress　that　predated　the　twenties；　all　of　them　singing　about　the　stiff　patch　on　Rosie　O'Grady's　knickers。　He　seemed　to　remember　looking　out　the　big　double　doors　and　seeing　Japanese　lanterns　strung　in　graceful；　curving　arcs　that　followed　the　sweep　of　the　driveway…they　gleamed　in　soft　pastel　colors　like　dusky　jewels。　The　big　glass　globe　on　the　porch　ceiling　was　on；　and　night…insects　bumped　and　flittered　against　it；　and　a　part　of　him；　perhaps　the　last　tiny　spark　of　sobriety；　tried　to　tell　him　that　it　was　6　A。M。　on　a　morning　in　December。　But　time　had　been　canceled。
　　（The　arguments　against　insanity　fall　through　with　a　soft　shurring　sound/layer　on　layer　。　。　。）　Who　was　that？　Some　poet　he　had　read　as　an　undergraduate？　Some　undergraduate　poet　who　was　now　selling　washers　in　Wausau　or　insurance　in　Indianapolis？　Perhaps　an　original　thought？　Didn't　matter。
　　（The　night　is　dark/　the　stars　are　high/　a　disembodied　custard　piel　is　floating　in　the　sky　。　。　。）　He　giggled　helplessly。
　　〃What's　funny；　honey？〃　And　here　he　was　again；　in　the　ballroom。　The　chandelier　was　lit　and　couples　were　circling　all　around　them；　some　in　costume　and　some　not；　to　the　smooth　sounds　of　some　postwar　band…but　which　war？　Can　you　be　certain？
　　No；　of　course　not。　He　was　certain　of　only　one　thing：　he　was　dancing　with　a　beautiful　woman。
　　She　was　tall　and　auburn…haired；　dressed　in　clinging　white　satin；　and　she　was　dancing　close　to　him；　her　breasts　pressed　softly　and　sweetly　against　his　chest。
　　Her　white　hand　was　entwined　in　his。　She　was　wearing　a　small　and　sparkly　cat's…　eye　mask　and　her　hair　had　been　brushed　over　to　one　side　in　a　soft　and　gleaming　fall　that　seemed　to　pool　in　the　valley　between　their　touching　shoulders。　Her　dress　was　full…skirted　but　be　could　feel　her　thighs　against　his　legs　from　time　to　time　and　had　bee　more　and　more　sure　that　she　was　smoothand…powdered　naked　under　her　dress；　（the　better　to　feet　your　erection　with；　my　dear）　and　he　was　sporting　a　regular　railspike。　If　it　offended　her　she　concealed　it　well；　she　snuggled　even　closer　to　him。
　　〃Nothing　funny；　honey；〃　he　said；　and　giggled　again。
　　〃I　like　you；〃　she　whispered；　and　he　thought　that　her　scent　was　like　lilies；　secret　and　hidden　in　cracks　furred　with　green　moss…places　where　sunshine　is　short　and　shadows　long。
　　〃I　like　you；　too。〃
　　〃We　could　go　upstairs；　if　you　want。　I'm　supposed　to　be　with　Harry；　but　he'll　never　notice。　He's　too　busy　teasing　poor　Roger。〃　The　number　ended。　There　was　a　spatter　of　applause　and　then　the　band　swung　into
　　〃Mood　Indigo〃　with　scarcely　a　pause。
　　Jack　looked　over　her　bare　shoulder　and　saw　Derwent　standing　by　the　refreshment　table。　The　girl　in　the　sarong　was　with　him。　There　were　bottles　of　champagne　in　ice　buckets　ranged　along　the　white　lawn　covering　the　table；　and　Derwent　held　a　foaming　bottle　in　his　hand。　A　knot　of　people　had　gathered；　laughing。　In　front　of　Derwent　and　the　girl　in　the　sarong；　Roger　capered　grotesquely　on　all　fours；　his　tail　dragging　limply　behind　him。　He　was　barking。
　　〃Speak；　boy；　speak！〃　Harry　Derwent　cried。
　　〃Rowf！　Rowf！〃　Roger　responded。　Everyone　clapped；　a　few　of　the　men　whistled。
　　〃Now　sit　up。　Sit　up；　doggy！〃　Roger　clambered　up　on　his　haunches。　The　muzzle　of　his　mask　was　frozen　in　its　eternal　snarl。　Inside　the　eyeholes；　Roger's　eyes　rolled　with　frantic；　sweaty　hilarity。　He　held　his　arms　out；　dangling　the　paws。
　　〃Rowf！　Rowf！〃　Derwent　upended　the　bottle　of　champagne　and　it　fell　in　a　foamy　Niagara　onto　the　upturned　mask。　Roger　made　frantic　slurping　sounds；　and　everyone　applauded　again。　Some　of　the　women　screamed　with　laughter。
　　〃Isn't　Harry　a　card？〃　his　partner　asked　him；　pressing　close　again。　〃Everyone　says　so。　He's　AC/DC；　you　know。　Poor　Roger's　only　DC。　He　spent　a　weekend　with　Harry　in　Cuba　once　。　。　。　oh；　months　ago。　Now　he　follows　Harry　everywhere；　wagging　his　little　tail　behind　him。〃　She　giggled。　The　shy　scent　of　lilies　drifted　up。
　　〃But　of　course　Harry　never　goes　back　for　seconds　。　。　。　not　on　his　DC　side；　anyway　。　。　。　and　Roger　is　just　wild。　Harry　told　him　if　he　came　to　the　masked　ball　as　a　doggy；　a　cute　little　doggy；　he　might　reconsider；　and　Roger　is　such　a　silly　that　he　。　。　。〃　The　number　ended。　There　was　more　applause。　The　band　members　were　filing　down　for　a　break。
　　〃Excuse　me；　sweetness；〃　she　said。　〃There's　someone　I　just　roust　。　。　。　Darla！
　　Darla；　you　dear　girl；　where　have　you　been？〃　She　wove　her　way　into　the　eating；　drinking　throng　and　he　gazed　after　her　stupidly；　wondering　how　they　had　happened　to　be　dancing　together　in　the　first　place。　He　didn't　remember。　Incidents　seemed　to　have　occurred　with　no　connections。　First　here；　then　there；　then　everywhere。　His　head　was　spinning。　He　smelled　lilies　and　juniper　berries。　Up　by　the　refreshment　table　Derwent　was　now　holding　a　tiny　triangular　sandwich　over　Roger's　head　and　urging　him；　to　the　general　merriment　of　the　onlookers；　to　do　a　somersault。　The　dogmask　was　turned　upward。　The　silver　sides　of　the　dog　costume　bellowsed　in　and　out。　Roger　suddenly　leaped；　tucking　his　head　under；　and　tried　to　roll　in　mid…air。　His　leap　was　too　low　and　too　exhausted；　he　landed　awkwardly　on　his　back；　rapping　his　head　smartly　on　the　tiles。　A　hollow　groan　drifted　out　of　the　dogmask。
　　Derwent　led　the　applause。　〃Try　again；　doggy！　Try　again！〃　The　onlookers　took　up　the　chant…try　again；　try　again…　and　Jack　staggered　off　the　other　way；　feeling　vaguely　ill。
　　He　almost　fell　over　the　drinks　cart　that　was　being　wheeled　along　by　a　low…　browed　man　in　a　white　mess　jacket。　His　foot　rapped　the　lower　chromed　shelf　of　the　cart；　the　bottles　and　siphons　on　top　chattered　together　musically。
　　〃Sorry；〃　Jack　said　thickly。　He　suddenly　felt　closed　in　and　claustrophobic；　he　wanted　to　get　out。　He　wanted　the　Overlook　back　the　way　it　had　been　。　。　。　free　of　these　unwanted　guests。　His　place　was　not　honored；　as　the　true　opener　of　the　way；　he　was　only　another　of　the　ten　thousand　cheering　extras；　a　doggy　rolling　over　and　sitting　up　on　mand。
　　〃Quite　all　right；〃　the　man　in　the　white　mess　jacket　said。　The　polite；　clipped　English　ing　from　that　thug's　face　was　surreal。　〃A　drink？〃
　　〃Martini。〃　From　behind　him；　another　ber　of　laughter　broke；　Roger　was　howling　to　the　tune　of　〃Home　on　the　Range。〃　Someone　was　picking　out　acpaniment　on　the　Steinway　baby　grand。
　　〃Here　you　are。〃　The　frosty　cold　glass　was　pressed　into　his　hand。　Jack　drank　gratefully；　feeling　the　gin　hit　and　crumble　away　the　first　inroads　of　sobriety。
　　〃Is　it　all　right；　sir？〃
　　〃Fine。〃
　　〃Thank　you；　sir。〃　The　cart　began　to　roll　again。
　　Jack　suddenly　reached　out　and　touched　the　man's　shoulder。
　　〃Yes；　sir？〃
　　〃Pardon　me；　but　。　。　。　　what's　your　name？〃　The　other　showed　no　surprise。　〃Grady；　sir。　Delbert　Grady。〃
　　〃But　you　。　。　。　I　mean　that。　。　。〃　The　bartender　was　looking　at　him　politely。　Jack　tried　again；　although　his　mouth　was　mushed　by　gin　and　unreality；　each　word　felt　as　large　as　an　ice　cube。
　　〃Weren't　you　once　the　caretaker　here？　When　you　。　。　；　when。　。　。〃　But　he　couldn't　finish。　He　couldn't　say　it。
　　〃Why　no；　sir。　I　don't　believe　so。〃
　　〃But　your　wife　。　。　。　your　daughters。　。
　　〃My　wife　is　helping　in　the　kitchen；　sir。　The　girls　are　asleep；　of　course。　It's　much　too　late　for　them。〃
　　〃You　were　the　caretaker。　You…〃　Oh　say　it！　〃You　killed　them。〃　Grady's　face　remained　blankly　polite。　〃I　don't　have　any　recollection　of　that　at　all；　sir。〃　His　glass　was　empty。　Grady　plucked　it　from　Jack's　unresisting　fingers　and　set　about　making　another　drink　for　him。　There　was　a　small　white　plastic　bucket　on　his　cart　that　was　filled　with　olives。　For　soave　reason　they　reminded　Jack　of　tiny　severed　heads。　Grady　speared　one　deftly；　dropped　it　into　the　glass；　and　handed　it　to　him。
　　〃But　you…〃
　　〃You're　the　caretaker；　sir；〃　Grady　said　mildly。　〃You've　always　been　the　caretaker。　I　should　know；　sir。　I've　always　been　here。　The　same　manager　hired　us　both；　at　the　same　time。　Is　it　all　right；　sir？〃　Jack　gulped　at　his　drink。　His　head　was　swirling。　〃Mr。　Ullman　…〃
　　〃I　know　no　one　by　that　name；　sir。〃
　　〃But　he…〃
　　〃The　manager；〃　Grady　said。　〃The　hotel；　sir。　Surely　you　realize　who　hired　you；　sir。〃
　　〃No；〃　he　said　thickly。　〃No；　I…〃
　　〃I　believe　you　must　take　it　up　further　with　your　son；　Mr。　Torrance；　sir。　He　understands　everything；　although　he　hasn't　enlightened　you。　Rather　naughty　of　him；　if　I　may　be　so　bold；　sir。　In　fact；　he's　crossed　you　at　almost　every　turn；　hasn't　he？　And　him　not　yet　six。〃
　　〃Yes；〃　Jack　said。　〃He　has。〃　There　was　another　wave　of　laughter　fr