首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)- 第27部分

Shame　ran　down　her　body　like　a　burning　rash　as　she　lay　in　the　darkness。　She　had　never　heard　the　word　before　Fats　Wall　spoke　it　in　maths　on　Wednesday。　She　would　not　have　been　able　to　look　it　up：　she　was　dyslexic。　But　he　had　been　kind　enough　to　explain　what　it　meant；　so　there　was　no　need。

The　hairy　man…woman　…

He　was　worse　than　Dane　Tully；　whose　taunts　had　no　variety。　Fats　Wall’s　evil　tongue　fashioned　a　fresh；　tailor…made　torture　every　time　he　saw　her；　and　she　could　not　shut　her　ears。　His　every　insult　and　jibe　was　branded　on　Sukhvinder’s　memory；　sticking　there　as　no　useful　fact　had　ever　done。　If　she　could　have　been　examined　on　the　things　he　had　called　her；　she　would　have　achieved　the　first　A　grade　of　her　life。　Tash　’N’　Tits。　Hermaphrodite。　The　Bearded　Dumb…bell。

Hairy；　heavy　and　stupid。　Plain　and　clumsy。　Lazy；　according　to　her　mother；　whose　criticism　and　exasperation　rained　down　upon　her　daily。　A　bit　slow；　according　to　her　father；　who　said　it　with　an　affection　that　did　not　mitigate　his　lack　of　interest。　He　could　afford　to　be　nice　about　her　bad　grades。　He　had　Jaswant　and　Rajpal；　both　top　of　every　class　they　took。

‘Poor　old　Jolly；’　Vikram　would　say　carelessly；　after　glancing　through　her　report。

But　her　father’s　indifference　was　preferable　to　her　mother’s　anger。　Parminder　did　not　seem　able　to　prehend　or　accept　that　she　had　produced　a　child　who　was　not　gifted。　If　any　of　the　subject　teachers　made　the　slightest　hint　that　Sukhvinder　might　try　harder；　Parminder　seized　upon　it　in　triumph。

‘“Sukhvinder　is　easily　discouraged　and　needs　to　have　more　faith　in　her　abilities。”　There！　You　see？　Your　teacher　is　saying　you　don’t　try　hard　enough；　Sukhvinder。’

Of　the　only　class　in　which　Sukhvinder　had　reached　the　second　set；　puting　–　Fats　Wall　was　not　there；　so　she　sometimes　dared　put　up　her　hand　to　answer　questions　–　Parminder　said　dismissively；　‘The　amount　of　time　you　children　spend　on　the　inter；　I’m　surprised　you’re　not　in　set　one。’

Never　would　it　have　occurred　to　Sukhvinder　to　tell　either　of　her　parents　about　the　ape　grunts　or　about　Stuart　Wall’s　endless　stream　of　malice。　It　would　mean　confessing　that　people　beyond　the　family　also　saw　her　as　sub…standard　and　worthless。　In　any　case；　Parminder　was　friends　with　Stuart　Wall’s　mother。　Sukhvinder　sometimes　wondered　why　Stuart　Wall　did　not　worry　about　their　mothers’　connection；　but　concluded　that　he　knew　that　she　would　not　give　him　away。　He　saw　through　her。　He　saw　her　cowardice；　as　he　knew　her　every　worst　thought　about　herself；　and　was　able　to　articulate　it　for　the　amusement　of　Andrew　Price。　She　had　fancied　Andrew　Price　once；　before　she　realized　that　she　was　utterly　unfit　to　fancy　anyone；　before　she　realized　that　she　was　laughable　and　strange。

Sukhvinder　heard　her　father’s　voice　and　Rajpal’s；　growing　louder　as　they　came　up　the　stairs。　Rajpal’s　laughter　reached　a　crescendo　right　outside　her　door。

‘It’s　late；’　she　heard　her　mother　call　from　her　bedroom。　‘Vikram；　he　should　be　in　bed。’

Vikram’s　voice　came　through　Sukhvinder’s　door；　close　by；　loud　and　warm。

‘Are　you　asleep　already；　Jolly？’

It　was　her　childhood　nickname；　bestowed　in　irony。　Jaswant　had　been　Jazzy；　and　Sukhvinder；　a　grizzling；　unhappy　baby；　rarely　smiling；　had　bee　Jolly。

‘No；’　Sukhvinder　called　back。　‘I’ve　only　just　gone　to　bed。’

‘Well；　it　might　interest　you　to　know　that　your　brother；　here—’

But　what　Rajpal　had　done　was　lost　in　his　shouting　protests；　his　laughter；　she　heard　Vikram　moving　away；　still　teasing　Rajpal。

Sukhvinder　waited　for　the　house　to　fall　silent。　She　clung　to　the　prospect　of　her　only　consolation；　as　she　would　have　hugged　a　life…belt；　waiting；　waiting；　for　them　all　to　go　to　bed　…

（And　as　she　waited；　she　remembered　that　evening　not　long　ago；　at　the　end　of　rowing　training；　when　they　had　been　walking　through　the　darkness　towards　the　car　park　by　the　canal。　You　were　so　tired　after　rowing。　Your　arms　and　your　stomach　muscles　ached；　but　it　was　a　good　clean　pain。　She　always　slept　properly　after　rowing。　And　then　Krystal；　bringing　up　the　rear　of　the　group　with　Sukhvinder；　had　called　her　a　silly　Paki　bitch。

It　had　e　out　of　nowhere。　They　had　all　been　messing　around　with　Mr　Fairbrother。　Krystal　thought　she　was　being　funny。　She　used　‘fucking’　interchangeably　with　‘very’；　and　seemed　to　see　no　difference　between　them。　Now　she　said　‘Paki’　as　she　would　have　said　‘dozy’　or　‘dim’。　Sukhvinder　was　conscious　of　her　face　falling；　and　experienced　the　familiar　sliding；　scalding　sensation　in　her　stomach。

‘What　did　you　say？’

Mr　Fairbrother　had　wheeled　around　to　face　Krystal。　None　of　them　had　ever　heard　him　properly　angry　before。

‘I　di’n　mean　nuthin’；’　said　Krystal；　half　taken　aback；　half　defiant。　‘I　was　on’y　jokin’。　She　knows　I　was　jus’　jokin’。　Don’　yeh？’　she　demanded　of　Sukhvinder；　who　muttered　cravenly　that　she　knew　it　was　a　joke。

‘I　never　want　to　hear　you　use　that　word　again。’

They　all　knew　how　much　he　liked　Krystal。　They　all　knew　he　had　paid　for　her　to　go　on　a　couple　of　their　trips　out　of　his　own　pocket。　Nobody　laughed　louder　than　Mr　Fairbrother　at　Krystal’s　jokes；　she　could　be　very　funny。

They　walked　on；　and　everybody　was　embarrassed。　Sukhvinder　was　afraid　to　look　at　Krystal；　she　felt　guilty；　as　she　always　did。

They　were　approaching　the　people…carrier　when　Krystal　said；　so　quietly　that　even　Mr　Fairbrother　did　not　hear　it：　‘I　wuz　jokin’。’

And　Sukhvinder　said　quickly；　‘I　know。’

‘Yeah；　well。　S’ry。’

It　came　out　as　a　mangled　monosyllable；　and　Sukhvinder　thought　it　tactful　not　to　acknowledge　it。　Nevertheless；　it　cleaned　her　out。　It　restored　her　dignity。　On　the　way　back　to　Pagford；　she　initiated；　for　the　first　time　ever；　the　singing　of　the　team’s　lucky　song；　asking　Krystal　to　start　with　Jay…Z’s　rap。）

Slowly；　very　slowly；　her　family　seemed　to　be　putting　themselves　to　bed　at　last。　Jaswant　spent　a　long　time　in　the　bathroom；　clinking　and　crashing　around。　Sukhvinder　waited　until　Jaz　had　finished　primping　herself；　until　her　parents　had　stopped　talking　in　their　room；　for　the　house　to　fall　silent。

Then；　at　last；　it　was　safe。　She　sat　up　and　pulled　the　razor　blade　out　from　a　hole　in　the　ear　of　her　old　cuddly　rabbit。　She　had　stolen　the　blade　from　Vikram’s　store　in　the　bathroom　cabi。　She　got　off　the　bed　and　groped　for　the　torch　on　her　shelf；　and　a　handful　of　tissues；　then　moved　into　the　furthest　part　of　her　room；　into　the　little　round　turret　in　the　corner。　Here；　she　knew；　the　torch’s　light　would　be　confined；　and　would　not　show　around　the　edges　of　the　door。　She　sat　down　with　her　back　against　the　wall；　pushed　up　the　sleeve　of　her　nightshirt　and　examined　by　torchlight　the　marks　left　by　her　last　session；　still　visible；　criss…crossed　and　dark　on　her　arm；　but　healing。　With　a　slight　shiver　of　fear　that　was　a　blessed　relief　in　its　narrow；　immediate　focus；　she　placed　the　blade　halfway　up　her　forearm　and　sliced　into　her　own　flesh。

Sharp；　hot　pain　and　the　blood　came　at　once；　when　she　had　cut　herself　right　up　to　her　elbow　she　pressed　the　wad　of　tissues　onto　the　long　wound；　making　sure　nothing　leaked　onto　her　nightshirt　or　the　carpet。　After　a　minute　or　two；　she　cut　again；　horizontally；　across　the　first　incision；　making　a　ladder；　pausing　to　press　and　to　mop　as　she　went。　The　blade　drew　the　pain　away　from　her　screaming　thoughts　and　transmuted　it　into　animal　burning　of　nerves　and　skin：　relief　and　release　in　every　cut。

At　last　she　wiped　the　blade　clean　and　surveyed　the　mess　she　had　made；　the　wounds　intersecting；　bleeding；　hurting　so　much　that　tears　were　rolling　down　her　face。　She　might　sleep　if　the　pain　did　not　keep　her　awake；　but　she　must　wait　for　ten　or　twenty　minutes；　until　the　fresh　cuts　had　clotted　over。　She　sat　with　her　knees　drawn　up；　closed　her　wet　eyes；　and　leaned　against　the　wall　beneath　the　window。

Some　of　her　self…hatred　had　oozed　out　with　the　blood。　Her　mind　drifted　away　to　Gaia　Bawden；　the　new　girl；　who　had　taken　such　an　unaccountable　fancy　to　her。　Gaia　could　have　hung　out　with　anyone；　with　her　looks　and　that　London　accent；　yet　she　kept　seeking　out　Sukhvinder　at　lunchtimes　and　on　the　bus。　Sukhvinder　did　not　understand　it。　She　almost　wanted　to　ask　Gaia　what　she　thought　she　was　playing　at；　day　by　day　she　expected　the　new　girl　to　realize　that　she；　Sukhvinder；　was　hairy　and　ape…like；　slow　and　stupid；　someone　to　be　despised　and　grunted　at　and　insulted。　No　doubt　she　would　recognize　her　mistake　soon；　and　Sukhvinder　would　be　left；　as　usual；　to　the　bored　pity　of　her　oldest　friends；　the　Fairbrother　twins。

Saturday
I
Every　parking　space　in　Church　Row　was　taken　by　nine　o’clock　in　the　morning。　Darkly　clothed　mourners　moved；　singly；　in　pairs　and　in　groups；　up　and　down　the　street；　converging；　like　a　stream　of　iron　filings　drawn　to　a　mag；　on　St　Michael　and　All　Saints。　The　path　leading　to　the　church　doors　became　crowded；　then　overflowed；　those　who　were　displaced　fanned　out　among　the　graves；　seeking　safe　spots　to　stand　between　the　headstones；　fearful　of　trampling　on　the　dead；　yet　unwilling　to　move　too　far　from　the　church　entrance。　It　was　clear　to　everyone　that　there　would　not　be　enough　pews　for　all　the　people　who　had　e　to　say　goodbye　to　Barry　Fairbrother。

His　co…workers　from　the　bank；　who　were　grouped　around　the　most　extravagant　of　the　Sweetlove　tombs；　wished　that　the　august　representative　from　head　office　would　move　on　and　take　his　inane　small…talk　and　his　clumsy　jokes　with　him。　Lauren；　Holly　and　Jennifer　from　the　rowing　team　had　separated　from　their　parents　to　huddle　together　in　the　shade　of　a　mossy…fingered　yew。　Parish　councillors；　a　motley　bunch；　talked　solemnly　in　the　middle　of　the　path：　a　clutch　of　balding　heads　and　thick…lensed　glasses；　a　smattering　of　black　straw　hats　and　cultured　pearls。　Men　from　the　squash　and　golf　clubs　hailed　each　other　in　subdued　fashion；　old　friends　from　university　recognized　each　other　from　afar　and　edged　together；　and　in　between　milled　what　seemed　to　be　most　of　Pagford；　in　their　smartest　and　most　sombre…hued　clothes。　The　air　droned　with　quiet　conversations；　faces　flickered；　watching　and　waiting。

Tessa　Wall’s　best　coat；　which　was　of　grey　wool；　was　cut　so　tightly　around　the　armholes　that　she　could　not　raise　her　arms　above　chest　height。　Standing　beside　her　son　on　one　side　of　the　churc