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首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第26部分

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He raked excitedly through this magnificent; unexpected treasure trove: her perfect body; revealed in tight denim and stretchy cotton; number ten behind her; on a chipped; shabby blue door; ‘oh; hi’; easily and naturally – so his features were definitely logged somewhere in the mind that lived behind the astonishing face。

The bike jolted on the newly pebbly and rough ground。 Elated; Andrew dismounted only when he began to overbalance。 He wheeled the bicycle on through the trees; emerging onto the narrow riverbank; where he slung the bicycle down on the ground among the wood anemones that had opened like tiny white stars since his last visit。

His father had said; when he first started to borrow the bike: ‘You chain it up if you’re going in a shop。 I’m warning you; if that gets nicked …’

But the chain was not long enough to go around any of the trees and; in any case; the further he rode from his father the less Andrew feared him。 Still thinking about the inches of flat; bare midriff and Gaia’s exquisite face; Andrew strode to the place where the bank met the eroded side of the hill; which hung like an earthy; rocky cliff in a sheer face above the fast…flowing green water。

The narrowest lip of slippery; crumbling bank ran along the bottom of the hillside。 The only way of navigating it; if your feet had grown to be twice the length they had been when they had first made the trip; was to edge along sideways; pressed to the sheer face; holding tight to roots and bits of protruding rock。

The mulchy green smell of the river and of wet soil was deeply familiar to Andrew; as was the sensation of this narrow ledge of earth and grass under his feet; and the cracks and rocks he sought with his hands on the hillside。 He and Fats had found the secret place when they were eleven years old。 They had known that what they were doing was forbidden and dangerous; they had been warned about the river。 Terrified; but determined not to tell each other so; they had sidled along this tricky ledge; grabbing at anything that protruded from the rocky wall and; at the very narrowest point; clutching fistfuls of each other’s T…shirts。

Years of practice enabled Andrew; though his mind was barely on the job; to move crab…wise along the solid wall of earth and rock with the water gushing three feet beneath his trainers; then with a deft duck and swing; he was inside the fissure in the hillside that they had found so long ago。 Back then; it had seemed like a divine reward for their daring。 He could no longer stand up in it; but; slightly larger than a two…man tent; it was big enough for two teenage boys to lie; side by side; with the river rushing past and the trees dappling their view of the sky; framed by the triangular entrance。

The first time they had been here; they had poked and dug at the back wall with sticks; but they had not found a secret passageway leading to the abbey above; so they gloried instead in the fact that they alone had discovered the hiding place; and swore that it would be their secret in perpetuity。 Andrew had a vague memory of a solemn oath; spit and swearwords。 They had called it the Cave when they had first discovered it; but it was now; and had been for some time past; the Cubby Hole。

The little recess smelt earthy; though the sloping ceiling was made of rock。 A dark green tidemark showed that it had flooded in the past; not quite to the roof。 The floor was covered in their cigarette butts and cardboard roaches。 Andrew sat down; with his legs dangling over the sludge…green water; and pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket; bought with the last of his birthday money; now that his allowance had been stopped。 He lit up; inhaled deeply; and relived the glorious encounter with Gaia Bawden in as much detail as he could ring out of it: narrow waist and curving hips; creamy skin between leather and T…shirt; full; wide mouth; ‘oh; hi’。 It was the first time he had seen her out of school uniform。 Where was she going; alone with her leather handbag? What was there in Pagford for her to do on a Saturday morning? Was she perhaps catching the bus into Yarvil? What did she get up to when she was out of his sight; what feminine mysteries absorbed her?

And he asked himself for the umpteenth time whether it was conceivable that flesh and bone wrought like that could contain a banal personality。 It was only Gaia who had ever made him wonder this: the idea of body and soul as separate entities had never once occurred to him until he had clapped eyes on her。 Even while trying to imagine what her breasts would look and feel like; judged by the visual evidence he had managed to gather through a slightly translucent school shirt; and what he knew was a white bra; he could not believe that the allure she held for him was exclusively physical。 She had a way of moving that moved him as much as music; which was what moved him most of all。 Surely the spirit animating that peerless body must be unusual too? Why would nature make a vessel like that; if not to contain something still more valuable?

Andrew knew what naked women looked like; because there were no parental controls on the puter in Fats’ conversion bedroom。 Together they had explored as much online porn as they could access for free: shaven vulvas; pink labia pulled wide to show darkly gaping slits; spread buttocks revealing the puckered buttons of anuses; thickly lipsticked mouths; dripping semen。 Andrew’s excitement was underpinned; always; by the panicky awareness that you could only hear Mrs Wall approaching the room when she reached the creaking halfway stair。 Sometimes they found weirdness that made them roar with laughter; even when Andrew was unsure whether he was more excited or repulsed (whips and saddles; harnesses; ropes; hoses; and once; at which even Fats had not managed to laugh; close…ups of metal…bolted contraptions; and needles protruding from soft flesh; and women’s faces frozen; screaming)。

Together he and Fats had bee connoisseurs of silicone…enhanced breasts; enormous; taut and round。

‘Plastic;’ one of them would point out; matter of factly; as they sat in front of the monitor with the door wedged shut against Fats’ parents。 The on…screen blonde’s arms were raised as she sat astride some hairy man; her big brown…nippled breasts hanging off her narrow rib cage like bowling balls; thin; shiny purple lines under each of them showing where the silicone had been inserted。 You could almost tell how they would feel; looking at them: firm; as if there were a football underneath the skin。 Andrew could imagine nothing more erotic than a natural breast; soft and spongy and perhaps a little springy; and the nipples (he hoped) contrastingly hard。

And all of these images blurred in his mind; late at night; with the possibilities offered by real girls; human girls; and the little you managed to feel through clothes if you managed to move in close enough。 Niamh was the less pretty of the Fairbrother twins; but she had been the more willing; in the stuffy drama hall; during the Christmas disco。 Half hidden by the musty stage curtain in a dark corner; they had pressed against each other; and Andrew had put his tongue into her mouth。 His hands had inched as far as her bra strap and no further; because she kept pulling away。 He had been driven; chiefly; by the knowledge that somewhere outside in the darkness; Fats was going further。 And now his brain teemed and throbbed with Gaia。 She was both the sexiest girl he had ever seen and the source of another; entirely inexplicable yearning。 Certain chord changes; certain beats; made the very core of him shiver; and so did something about Gaia Bawden。

He lit a new cigarette from the end of the first and threw the butt into the water below。 Then he heard a familiar scuffling; and leaned forward to see Fats; still wearing his funeral suit; spread…eagled on the hill wall; moving from hand…hold to hand…hold as he edged along the narrow lip of bank; towards the opening where Andrew sat。

‘Fats。’

‘Arf。’

Andrew pulled in his legs to give Fats room to climb into the Cubby Hole。

‘Fucking hell;’ said Fats; when he had clambered inside。 He was spider…like in his awkwardness; with his long limbs; his skinniness emphasized by the black suit。

Andrew handed him a cigarette。 Fats always lit up as though he were in a high wind; one hand cupped around the flame to shield it; scowling slightly。 He inhaled; blew a smoke ring out of the Cubby Hole and loosened the dark grey tie around his neck。 He appeared older and not; after all; so very foolish in the suit; which bore traces of earth on the knees and cuffs from the journey to the cave。

‘You’d think they were bum chums;’ Fats said; after he had taken another powerful drag on his cigarette。

‘Cubby upset; was he?’

‘Upset? He’s having fucking hysterics。 He’s given himself hiccups。 He’s worse than the fucking widow。’

Andrew laughed。 Fats blew another smoke ring and pulled at one of his overlarge ears。

‘I bowed out early。 They haven’t even buried him yet。’

They smoked in silence for a minute; both looking out at the sludgy river。 As he smoked; Andrew contemplated the words ‘bowed out early’; and the amount of autonomy Fats seemed to have; pared to himself。 Simon and his fury stood between Andrew and too much freedom: in Hilltop House; you sometimes copped for punishment simply because you were present。 Andrew’s imagination had once been caught by a strange little module in their philosophy and religion class; in which primitive gods had been discussed in all their arbitrary wrath and violence; and the attempts of early civilizations to placate them。 He had thought then of the nature of justice as he had e to know it: of his father as a pagan god; and of his mother as the high priestess of the cult; who attempted to interpret and intercede; usually failing; yet still insisting; in the face of all the evidence; that there was an underlying magnanimity and reasonableness to her deity。

Fats rested his head against the stone side of the Cubby Hole and blew smoke rings at the ceiling。 He was thinking about what he wanted to tell Andrew。 He had been mentally rehearsing the way he would start; all through the funeral service; while his father gulped and sobbed into his handkerchief。 Fats was so excited by the prospect of telling; that he was having difficulty containing himself; but he was determined not to blurt it out。 The telling of it was; to Fats; of almost equal importance to the doing of it。 He did not want Andrew to think that he had hurried here to say it。

‘You know how Fairbrother was on the Parish Council?’ said Andrew。

‘Yeah;’ said Fats; glad that Andrew had initiated a space…filler conversation。

‘Si…Pie’s saying he’s going to stand for his seat。’

‘Si…Pie is?’

Fats frowned at Andrew。

‘What the fuck’s got into him?’

‘He reckons Fairbrother was getting backhanders from some contractor。’ Andrew had heard Simon discussing it with Ruth in the kitchen that morning。 It had explained everything。 ‘He wants a bit of the action。’

‘That wasn’t Barry Fairbrother;’ said Fats; laughing as he flicked ash onto the cave floor。 ‘And that wasn’t the Parish Council。 That was What’s…his…name Frierly; up in Yarvil。 He was on the school board at Winterdown。 Cubby had a fucking fit。 Local press calling him for a ment and all that。 Frierly got done for it。 Doesn’t Si…Pie read the Yarvil and District Gazette?’

Andrew stared at Fats。

‘Fucking typical。’

He ground out his cigarette on the earthy floor; embarrassed by his father’s idiocy。 Simon had got the wrong end of the stick yet again。 He spurned the local munity; sneered at their concerns; was proud of his isolation in his poxy little house on the hill; then he got a bit of misinformation and decided to expose his family to humiliation on the basis of it。

‘Crooked as fuck; Si…Pie; isn’t he?’ said Fats。

They called him Si…Pie because that was Ruth’s nickname for her husband。 Fats had heard her use it once; when he had been over for his tea; and had never called Simon anything else since。

‘Yeah; he is;’ said Andrew; wondering whether he would be able to dissuade his father from standing by telling him he had the wrong m
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