ib.thewaspfactory-第35节

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　　I　pleted　my　round　of　the　Sacrifice　Poles；　then　spent　half　an　hour　near　the　old　winch　indulging　in　a　bit　of　target　practice。　I　set　up　a　few　cans　on　the　rusty　iron　of　the　drum　housing；　went　back　thirty　metres　and　brought　them　all　down　with　my　catapult；　using　only　three　extra　steelies　for　the　six　cans。　I　set　them　up　again　once　I　had　recovered　all　but　one　of　the　big　ball…bearings；　went　back　to　the　same　position　and　threw　pebbles　at　the　cans；　this　time　taking　fourteen　shots　before　all　the　cans　were　down。　I　ended　up　throwing　the　knife　at　a　tree　by　the　old　sheep…pen　a　few　times　and　was　pleased　to　find　I　was　judging　the　number　of　tumbles　well；　the　blade　whacking　into　the　much…cut　bark　straight　each　time。
　　
　　Back　in　the　house　I　washed；　changed　my　shirt　and　then　appeared　in　the　kitchen　in　time　for　Mrs　Clamp　serving　up　the　first　course；　which　for　some　reason　was　piping…hot　broth。　I　waved　a　slice　of　soft；　smelly　white　bread　over　it　while　Mrs　Clamp　bent　to　the　bowl　and　slurped　noisily　and　my　father　crumbled　wholemeal　bread；　which　appeared　to　have　wood　shavings　in　it；　over　his　plate。
　　
　　'And　how　are　you；　Mrs　Clamp？'　I　asked　pleasantly。
　　
　　'Oh；　I'm　all　right；　'　Mrs　Clamp　said；　drawing　her　brows　together　like　a　snagged　end　of　wool　being　unravelled　from　a　sock。　She　pleted　the　frown　and　directed　it　at　the　dripping　spoon　just　under　her　chin；　telling　it：　'Oh；　yes；　I'm　all　right。'
　　
　　'Isn't　it　hot？'　I　said；　and　hummed。　I　went　on　flapping　the　bread　over　my　soup　while　my　father　looked　at　me　darkly。
　　
　　'It's　summer；'　Mrs　Clamp　explained。
　　
　　'Oh；　yes；'　I　said。　'I'd　forgotten。'
　　
　　'Frank；'　my　father　said　rather　unclearly；　his　mouth　full　of　vegetables　and　wood　shavings；　'I　don't　suppose　you　recall　the　capacity　of　these　spoons；　do　you？'
　　
　　'A　quarter…gill？'　I　suggested　innocently。　He　glowered　and　sipped　some　more　soup。　I　kept　on　flapping；　stopping　only　to　disturb　the　brown　skin　that　was　forming　over　the　surface　of　my　broth。　Mrs　Clamp　sipped　again。
　　
　　'And　how　are　things　in　the　town；　Mrs　Clamp？'　I　asked。
　　
　　'Very　well；　as　far　as　I　know；'　Mrs　Clamp　informed　her　soup。　I　nodded。　My　father　was　blowing　at　his　spoon。　'The　Mackies'　dog　has　gone　missing；　or　so　I　was　told；'　Mrs　Clamp　added。　I　raised　my　brows　slightly　and　smiled　in　a　concerned　way。　My　father　stopped　and　stared；　and　the　noise　of　his　soup　dribbling　off　his　spoon…the　end　of　which　had　started　to　drop　slightly　just　after　Mrs　Clamp's　sentence…echoed　round　the　room　like　piss　going　into　a　toilet　bowl。
　　
　　'Really？'　I　said；　keeping　on　flapping。　'What　a　shame。　Just　as　well　my　brother's　not　around　or　he'd　be　getting　the　blame　of　it。'　I　smiled；　glanced　at　my　father；　then　back　at　Mrs　Clamp；　who　was　watching　me　with　narrowed　eyes　through　the　rising　steam　from　her　soup。　Dough　fatigue　set　into　the　piece　of　bread　I　was　using　to　fan　the　soup；　and　it　fell　apart。　I　caught　the　falling　end　smartly　with　my　free　hand　and　returned　it　to　my　side　plate；　raising　my　spoon　and　taking　a　tentative　sip　from　the　surface　of　the　broth。
　　
　　'H'm；'　Mrs　Clamp　said。
　　
　　'Mrs　Clamp　couldn't　get　your　beefburgers　today；'　my　father　said；　clearing　his　throat　on　the　first　syllable　of　'couldn't'；　'so　she　got　you　mince　instead。'
　　
　　'Unions！'　Mrs　Clamp　muttered　darkly；　spitting　into　her　soup。　I　put　one　elbow　on　the　table；　rested　my　cheek　on　a　fist　and　looked　puzzledly　at　her。　To　no　avail。　She　didn't　look　up；　and　eventually　I　shrugged　to　myself　and　carried　on　sipping。　My　father　had　put　his　spoon　down；　wiping　his　brow　with　one　sleeve　and　using　a　fingernail　in　an　attempt　to　remove　a　piece　of　what　I　assumed　to　be　wood　shaving　from　between　two　upper　teeth。
　　
　　'There　was　a　wee　fire　down　by　the　new　house　yesterday；　Mrs　Clamp；　I　put　it　out；　you　know。　I　was　down　there　and　I　saw　it　and　I　put　it　out；'　I　said。
　　
　　'Don't　boast；　boy；'　my　father　said。　Mrs　Clamp　held　her　tongue。
　　
　　'Well；　I　did；'　I　smiled。
　　
　　'I'm　sure　Mrs　Clamp　isn't　interested。'
　　
　　'Oh；　I　wouldn't　say　that；'　Mrs　Clamp　said；　nodding　her　head　in　slightly　confusing　emphasis。
　　
　　'There；　you　see？'　I　said；　humming　as　I　looked　at　my　father　and　nodded　towards　Mrs　Clamp；　who　slurped　noisily。
　　
　　I　kept　quiet　through　the　main　course；　which　was　a　stew；　and　only　noted　during　the　rhubarb　and　custard　that　it　had　a　novel　addition　to　the　medley　of　flavours；　when　in　fact　the　milk　it　had　been　made　from　had　obviously　been　most　profoundly　off。　I　smiled；　my　father　growled　and　Mrs　Clamp　slurped　her　custard　and　spat　her　stumps　of　rhubarb　out　on　to　her　napkin。　To　be　fair；　it　was　a　little　undercooked。
　　
　　Dinner　cheered　me　up　immensely　and；　although　the　afternoon　was　hotter　than　the　morning；　I　felt　more　energetic。　There　were　no　slits　of　distant　brightness　out　over　the　sea；　and　there　was　a　thickness　about　the　light　ing　through　the　clouds　that　went　with　the　charge　in　the　air　and　the　slack　wind。　I　went　out；　going　once　round　the　island　at　a　brisk　jog；　I　watched　Mrs　Clamp　depart　for　the　town；　then　I　walked　out　in　the　same　direction　to　sit　on　top　of　a　tall　dune　a　few　hundred　metres　into　the　mainland　and　sweep　the　sweltering　land　with　my　binoculars。
　　
　　Sweat　rolled　off　me　as　soon　as　I　stopped　moving；　and　I　could　feel　a　slight　ache　start　in　my　head。　I　had　taken　a　little　water　with　me；　so　I　drank　it；　then　refilled　the　can　from　the　nearest　stream。　My　father　was　doubtless　right　that　sheep　shat　in　the　streams；　but　I　was　sure　I　had　long　since　grown　immune　to　anything　I　could　catch　from　the　local　burns；　having　drunk　from　them　for　years　while　I　had　been　damming　them。　I　drank　more　water　than　I　really　felt　like　and　returned　to　the　top　of　the　dune。　In　the　distance　the　sheep　were　still；　lying　on　the　grass。　Even　the　gulls　were　absent；　and　only　the　flies　were　still　active。　The　smoke　from　the　dump　still　drifted；　and　another　line　of　hazy　blue　rose　from　the　plantations　in　the　hills；　ing　up　from　the　edge　of　a　clearing　where　they　were　harvesting　the　trees　for　the　pulp　mill　farther　up　the　shore　of　the　firth。　I　strained　to　hear　the　sound　of　the　saws；　but　couldn't。
　　
　　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　isla