ib.thewaspfactory-第39部分

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　the　Venus；　checking　wires；　dusting　the　glass　over　the　face；　testing　batteries　and　oiling　doors　and　other　mechanisms；　all　more　to　reassure　myself　than　anything　else。　I　dusted　the　altar　as　well　as　arranged　everything　on　it　carefully；　using　a　ruler　to　make　sure　all　the　little　jars　and　other　pieces　were　arranged　perfectly　symmetrically　on　it。
　　
　　I　was　sweating　again　by　the　time　I　came　down；　but　couldn't　be　bothered　having　another　shower。　My　father　was　up；　and　made　breakfast　while　I　watched　some　Saturday…morning　television。　We　ate　in　silence。　I　took　a　tour　round　the　island　in　the　morning；　going　to　the　Bunker　and　getting　the　Head　Bag　so　I　could　do　any　necessary　repair　work　to　the　Poles　as　I　made　my　way　round。
　　
　　It　took　me　longer　than　usual　to　plete　the　circuit　because　I　kept　stopping　and　going　to　the　top　of　the　nearest　tall　dune　to　look　out　over　the　approaches。　I　never　did　see　anything。　The　heads　on　the　Sacrifice　Poles　were　in　fairly　good　repair。　I　had　to　replace　a　couple　of　mice　heads；　but　that　was　about　all。　The　other　heads　and　the　streamers　were　intact。　I　found　a　dead　gull　lying　on　the　mainland　face　of　a　dune；　opposite　the　island's　centre。　I　took　the　head　and　buried　the　rest　near　a　Pole。　I　put　the　head；　which　was　starting　to　smell；　in　a　plastic　bag　and　stuffed　it　in　the　Head　Bag　with　the　dried　ones。
　　
　　I　heard　then　saw　the　birds　go　up　as　somebody　came　along　the　path；　but　I　knew　it　was　only　Mrs　Clamp。　I　climbed　a　dune　to　watch；　and　saw　her　pedalling　over　the　bridge　with　her　ancient　delivery…bike。　I　took　another　look　over　the　pasture　land　and　dunes　beyond；　once　she　had　disappeared　round　the　dune　before　the　house；　but　there　was　nothing；　just　sheep　and　gulls。　Smoke　came　from　the　dump；　and　I　could　just　hear　the　steady　grumble　of　an　old　diesel　on　the　railway　line。　The　sky　stayed　overcast　but　bright；　and　the　wind　sticky　and　uncertain。　Out　to　sea　I　could　make　out　golden　slivers　near　the　horizon　where　the　water　glittered　under　breaks　in　the　cloud；　but　they　were　far；　far　out。
　　
　　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