快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

llins　was　deceased　and　his　firm　prised　two　men：　Gavin　Hughes　who　was　the　salaried　partner；　with　one　window　in　his　office；　and　Miles　Mollison；　who　was　the　equity　partner；　with　two　windows。　They　shared　a　secretary　who　was　twenty…eight；　single；　plain　but　with　a　good　figure。　Shona　laughed　too　long　at　all　Miles’　jokes；　and　treated　Gavin　with　a　patronage　that　was　almost　offensive。

‘Mary’s　called。　There’s　a　bit　of　a　glitch　with　Barry’s　life　insurance。　She　wants　me　to　help　her　sort　it。’

‘Right；　well；　you　can　handle　that；　can’t　you？　I’ll　be　back　at　two；　anyway。’

Miles　slipped　on　his　overcoat；　jogged　down　the　steep　stairs　and　walked　briskly　up　the　rain…swept　little　street　that　led　to　the　Square。　A　momentary　break　in　the　clouds　caused　sunlight　to　flood　the　glistening　war　memorial　and　the　hanging　baskets。　Miles　experienced　a　rush　of　atavistic　pride　as　he　hurried　across　the　Square　towards　Mollison　and　Lowe；　that　Pagford　institution；　that　classiest　of　emporia；　a　pride　that　familiarity　had　never　blighted；　but　rather　deepened　and　ripened。

The　bell　tinkled　at　the　door　as　Miles　pushed　it　open。　There　was　something　of　a　lunchtime　rush　on：　a　queue　of　eight　waited　at　the　counter　and　Howard；　in　his　mercantile　regalia；　fisherman’s　flies　glinting　in　his　deerstalker；　was　in　full　tongue。

‘…　and　a　quarter　of　black　olives；　Rosemary；　to　you。　Nothing　else；　now？　Nothing　else　for　Rosemary　…　that’ll　be　eight　pounds；　sixty…two　pence；　we’ll　call　it　eight；　my　love；　in　light　of　our　long　and　fruitful　association　…’

Giggles　and　gratitude；　the　rattle　and　crash　of　the　till。

‘And　here’s　my　lawyer；　e　to　check　up　on　me；’　boomed　Howard；　winking　and　chuckling　over　the　heads　of　the　queue　at　Miles。　‘If　you’ll　wait　for　me　in　the　back；　sir；　I’ll　try　not　to　say　anything　incriminating　to　Mrs　Howson　…’

Miles　smiled　at　the　middle…aged　ladies；　who　beamed　back。　Tall；　with　thick；　close…cropped　greying　hair；　big　round　blue　eyes；　his　paunch　disguised　by　his　dark　overcoat；　Miles　was　a　reasonably　attractive　addition　to　the　hand…baked　biscuits　and　local　cheeses。　He　navigated　his　way　carefully　between　the　little　tables　piled　high　with　delicacies　and　paused　at　the　big　arch　hewn　between　delicatessen　and　the　old　shoe　shop；　which　was　denuded　of　its　protective　plastic　curtain　for　the　first　time。　Maureen　（Miles　recognized　the　handwriting）　had　put　up　a　sign　on　a　sandwich　board　in　the　middle　of　the　arch：　No　Entry。　ing　Soon　…　The　Copper　Kettle。　Miles　peered　through　into　the　clean；　spare　space　that　would　soon　be　Pagford’s　newest　and　best　café；　it　was　plastered　and　painted；　with　freshly　varnished　black　boards　underfoot。
。电子书
He　sidled　around　the　corner　of　the　counter　and　edged　past　Maureen；　who　was　operating　the　meat　slicer；　affording　her　the　opportunity　for　a　gruff　and　ribald　laugh；　then　ducked　through　the　door　that　led　into　the　dingy　little　back　room。　Here　was　a　Formica　table；　on　which　Maureen’s　Daily　Mail　lay　folded；　Howard　and　Maureen’s　coats　hanging　on　hooks；　and　a　door　leading　to　the　lavatory；　which　exuded　a　scent　of　artificial　lavender。　Miles　hung　up　his　overcoat　and　drew　up　an　old　chair　to　the　table。

Howard　appeared　a　minute　or　two　later；　bearing　two　heaped　plates　of　delicatessen　fare。

‘Definitely　decided　on　the　“Copper　Kettle”　then？’　asked　Miles。

‘Well；　Mo　likes　it；’　said　Howard；　setting　down　a　plate　in　front　of　his　son。

He　lumbered　out；　returned　with　two　bottles　of　ale；　and　closed　the　door　with　his　foot　so　that　the　room　was　enveloped　in　a　windowless　gloom　relieved　only　by　the　dim　pendant　light。　Howard　sat　down　with　a　deep　grunt。　He　had　been　conspiratorial　on　the　telephone　mid…morning；　and　kept　Miles　waiting　a　few　moments　longer　while　he　flipped　off　the　lid　of　one　bottle。

‘Wall’s　sent　his　forms　in；’　he　said　at　last；　handing　over　the　beer。

‘Ah；’　said　Miles。

‘I’m　going　to　set　a　deadline。　Two　weeks　from　today　for　everyone　to　declare。’

‘Fair　enough；’　said　Miles。

‘Mum　reckons　this　Price　bloke　is　still　interested。　Have　you　asked　Sam　if　she　knows　who　he　is　yet？’

‘No；’　said　Miles。

Howard　scratched　an　underfold　of　the　belly　that　rested　close　to　his　knees　as　he　sat　on　the　creaking　chair。

‘Everything　all　right　with　you　and　Sam？’

Miles　admired；　as　always；　his　father’s　almost　psychic　intuition。

‘Not　great。’

He　would　not　have　confessed　it　to　his　mother；　because　he　tried　not　to　fuel　the　constant　cold　war　between　Shirley　and　Samantha；　in　which　he　was　both　hostage　and　prize。

‘She　doesn’t　like　the　idea　of　me　standing；’　Miles　elaborated。　Howard　raised　his　fair　eyebrows；　his　jowls　wobbling　as　he　chewed。　‘I　don’t　bloody　know　what’s　got　into　her。　She’s　on　one　of　her　anti…Pagford　kicks。’

Howard　took　his　time　swallowing。　He　dabbed　at　his　mouth　with　a　paper　napkin　and　burped。

‘She’ll　e　round　quickly　enough　once　you’re　in；’　he　said。　‘The　social　side　of　it。　Plenty　for　the　wives。　Functions　at　Sweetlove　House。　She’ll　be　in　her　element。’　He　took　another　swig　of　ale　and　scratched　his　belly　again。

‘I　can’t　picture　this　Price；’　said　Miles；　returning　to　the　essential　point；　‘but　I’ve　got　a　feeling　he　had　a　kid　in　Lexie’s　class　at　St　Thomas’s。’

‘Fields…born；　though；　that’s　the　thing；’　said　Howard。　‘Fields…born；　which　could　work　to　our　advantage。　Split　the　pro…Fields　vote　between　him　and　Wall。’

‘Yeah；’　said　Miles。　‘Makes　sense。’

‘I　haven’t　heard　of　anyone　else。　It’s　possible；　once　details　hit　the　website；　someone　else’ll　e　forward。　But　I’m　confident　about　our　chances。　I’m　confident。　Aubrey　called；’　Howard　added。　There　was　always　a　touch　of　additional　portentousness　in　Howard’s　tone　when　he　used　Aubrey　Fawley’s　Christian　name。　‘Right　behind　you；　goes　without　saying。　He’s　back　this　evening。　He’s　been　in　town。’

Usually；　when　a　Pagfordian　said　‘in　town’；　they　meant　‘in　Yarvil’。　Howard　and　Shirley　used　the　phrase；　in　imitation　of　Aubrey　Fawley；　to　mean　‘in　London’。

‘He　mentioned　something　about　us　all　getting　together　for　a　chat。　Maybe　tomorrow。　Might　even　invite　us　over　to　the　house。　Sam’d　like　that。’

Miles　had　just　taken　a　large　bite　of　soda　bread　and　liver　paté；　but　he　conveyed　his　agreement　with　an　emphatic　nod。　He　liked　the　idea　that　Aubrey　Fawley　was　‘right　behind’　him。　Samantha　might　jeer　at　his　parents’　thraldom　to　the　Fawleys；　but　Miles　noticed　that　on　those　rare　occasions　when　Samantha　came　face　to　face　with　either　Aubrey　or　Julia；　her　accent　changed　subtly　and　her　demeanour　became　markedly　more　demure。

‘Something　else；’　said　Howard；　scratching　his　belly　again。　‘Got　an　email　from　the　Yarvil　and　District　Gazette　this　morning。　Asking　for　my　views　on　the　Fields。　As　chair　of　the　Parish　Council。’

‘You’re　kidding？　I　thought　Fairbrother　had　stitched　that　one　up—’

‘Backfired；　didn’t　it？’　said　Howard；　with　immense　satisfaction。　‘They’re　going　to　run　his　article；　and　they　want　someone　to　argue　against　the　following　week。　Give　them　the　other　side　of　the　story。　I’d　appreciate　a　hand。　Lawyer’s　turn　of　phrase；　and　all　that。’

‘No　problem；’　said　Miles。　‘We　could　talk　about　that　bloody　addiction　clinic。　That’d　make　the　point。’

‘Yes　–　very　good　idea　–　excellent。’

In　his　enthusiasm；　he　had　swallowed　too　much　at　once　and　Miles　had　to　bang　him　on　the　back　until　his　coughing　had　subsided。　At　last；　dabbing　his　watering　eyes　with　a　napkin；　Howard　said　breathlessly；　‘Aubrey’s　remending　the　District　cuts　funding　from　their　end；　and　I’m　going　to　put　it　to　our　lot　that　it’s　time　to　terminate　the　lease　on　the　building。　It　wouldn’t　hurt　to　make　the　case　in　the　press。　How　much　time　and　money’s　gone　into　that　bloody　place　with　nothing　to　show　for　it。　I’ve　got　the　figures。’　Howard　burped　sonorously。　‘Bloody　disgraceful。　Pardon　me。’

III
Gavin　cooked　for　Kay　at　his　house　that　evening；　opening　tins　and　crushing　garlic　with　a　sense　of　ill…usage。

After　a　row；　you　had　to　say　certain　things　to　secure　a　truce：　those　were　the　rules；　everyone　knew　that。　Gavin　had　telephoned　Kay　from　his　car　on　the　way　back　from　Barry’s　burial　and　told　her　that　he　wished　she　had　been　there；　that　the　whole　day　had　been　horrible　and　that　he　hoped　he　could　see　her　that　night。　He　considered　these　humble　admissions　no　more　or　less　than　the　price　he　had　to　pay　for　an　evening　of　undemanding　panionship。

But　Kay　seemed　to　consider　them　more　in　the　light　of　a　down　payment　on　a　renegotiated　contract。　You　missed　me。　You　needed　me　when　you　were　upset。　You’re　sorry　we　didn’t　go　as　a　couple。　Well；　let’s　not　make　that　mistake　again。　There　had　been　a　certain　placency　about　the　way　she　had　treated　him　since；　a　briskness；　a　sense　of　renewed　expectation。

He　was　making　spaghetti　Bolognese　tonight；　he　had　deliberately　omitted　to　buy　a　pudding　or　to　lay　the　table　in　advance；　he　was　at　pains　to　show　her　that　he　had　not　made　much　of　an　effort。　Kay　seemed　oblivious；　even　determined　to　take　this　casual　attitude　as　a　pliment。　She　sat　at　his　small　kitchen　table；　talking　to　him　over　the　pitter…patter　of　rain　on　the　skylight；　her　eyes　wandering　over　the　fixtures　and　fittings。　She　had　not　often　been　here。

‘I　suppose　Lisa　chose　this　yellow；　did　she？’

She　was　doing　it　again：　breaking　taboos；　as　though　they　had　recently　passed　to　a　deeper　level　of　intimacy。　Gavin　preferred　not　to　talk　about　Lisa　if　he　could　avoid　it；　surely　she　knew　that　by　now？　He　shook　oregano　onto　the　mince　in　his　frying　pan　and　said；　‘No；　this　was　all　the　previous　owner。　I　haven’t　got　round　to　changing　it　yet。’

‘Oh；’　she　said；　sipping　wine。　‘Well；　it’s　quite　nice。　A　bit　bland。’

This　rankled　with　Gavin；　as；　in　his　opinion；　the　interior　of　the　Smithy　was　superior　in　every　way　to　that　of　Ten　Hope　Street。　He　watched　the　pasta　bubbling；　keeping　his　back　to　her。

‘Guess　what？’　she　said。　‘I　met　Samantha　Mollison　this　afternoon。’

Gavin　wheeled　around；　how　did　Kay　even　know　what　Samantha　Mollison　looked　like？

‘Just　outside　the　deli　in　the　Square；　I　was　on　my　way　in　to　get　this；’　said　Kay；　clinking　the　wine　bottle　beside　her　with　a　flick　of　her　nail。　‘She　asked　me　whether　I　was　Gavin’s　girlfriend。’

Kay　said　it　archly；　but　actually　she　had　been　heartened　by　Samantha’s　choice　of　words；　relieved　to　think　that　this　was　how　Gavin　described　her　to　his　friends。

‘And　what　did　you　say？’

‘I　said　–　I　said　yes。’

Her　expression　was　crestfallen。　Gavin　had　not　meant　to　ask　the　question　quite　so　aggressively。　He　would　have　given　a　lot　to　prevent　Kay　and　Samantha　ever　meeting。

‘Anyway；’　Kay　proceeded　with　a　slight　edge　to　her　voice；　‘she’s　asked　us　for　dinner　next　Friday。　Week　today。’

‘Oh；　bloody　hell；’　said　Gavin　crossly。

A　lot　of　Kay’s　cheerfulness　deserted　her。

‘What’s　the　problem？’

‘Nothing。　It’s　–　nothing；’　he　said；　prodding　the　bubbling　spaghetti。　‘It’s　just　that　I　see　enough　of　Miles　during　work　hours；　to　be　honest。’

It　was　what　he　had　dreaded　all　along：　that　she　would　worm　her　way　in　and　they　would　bee　Gavin…and…Kay；　with　a　shared　social　circle；　so　that　it　would　bee　progressively　more　difficult　to　excise　her　from　his　life。　How　had　he　let　this　happen？　Why　had　he　allowed　her　to　move　down　here？　Fury　at　himself　mutated　easily　into　anger　with　her。　Why　couldn’t　she　realize　how　little　he　wanted　her；　and　take　herself　off　without　forcing　him　to　do　the　dirty？　He　drained　the　spaghetti　in　the　sink；　swearing　under　his　breath　as　he　speckled　himself　with　boiling　water。

‘You’d　better　call　Miles　and　Samantha　and　tell　them　“no”；　then；’　said　Kay。

Her　voice　had　hardened。　As　was　Gavin’s　deeply　ingrained　habit；　he　sought　to　deflect　an　imminent　conflict　and　hoped　that　the　future　would　look　after　itself。

‘No；　no；’　he　said；　dabbing　at　his　wet　shirt　with　a　tea　towel。　‘We’ll　go。　It’s　fine。　We’ll　go。’

But　in　his　undisguised　lack　of　enthusiasm；　he　sought　to　put　down　a　marker　to　which　he　could　refer；　retrospectively。　You　knew　I　didn’t　want　to　go。　No；　I　didn’t　enjoy　it。　No；　I　don’t　want　it　to　happen　again。

They　ate　for　several　minutes　in　silence。　Gavin　was　afraid　that　there　would　be　another　row；　and　that　Kay　would　force　him　to　discuss　underlying　issues　again。　He　cast　around　for　something　to　say；　and　so　started　telling　her　about　Mary　Fairbrother　and　the　life　insurance　pany。

‘They’re　being　real　bastards；’　he