首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第7章

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Howard　checked　his　watch。

‘That’s　nearly　half…past；　Mo。’

They　were　never　late　opening　up；　never　early　closing；　the　business　was　run　with　the　ritual　and　regularity　of　a　temple。

Maureen　teetered　over　to　unlock　the　door　and　pull　up　the　blinds。　The　Square　was　revealed　in　jerky　increments　as　the　blinds　went　up：　picturesque　and　well　kept；　due　in　large　part　to　the　co…ordinated　efforts　of　those　proprietors　whose　properties　faced　onto　it。　Window…boxes；　hanging　baskets　and　flower　tubs　were　dotted　about；　planted　in　mutually　agreed　colours　each　year。　The　Black　Canon　（one　of　the　oldest　pubs　in　England）　faced　Mollison　and　Lowe　across　the　Square。

Howard　strode　in　and　out　of　the　back　room；　fetching　long　rectangular　dishes　containing　fresh　patés；　and　laying　them；　with　their　jewel…bright　adornments　of　glistening　citrus　segments　and　berries；　neatly　beneath　the　glass　counter。　Puffing　a　little　from　exertion　ing　on　top　of　so　much　early　morning　conversation；　Howard　set　the　last　of　the　patés　down　and　stood　for　a　little　while；　looking　out　at　the　war　memorial　in　the　middle　of　the　Square。

Pagford　was　as　lovely　as　ever　this　morning；　and　Howard　knew　a　sublime　moment　of　exultation　in　the　existence；　both　of　himself；　and　of　the　town　to　which　he　belonged；　as　he　saw　it；　like　a　pulsing　heart。　He　was　here　to　drink　it　all　in　–　the　glossy　black　benches；　the　red　and　purple　flowers；　the　sunlight　gilding　the　top　of　the　stone　cross　–　and　Barry　Fairbrother　was　gone。　It　was　difficult　not　to　sense　a　greater　design　in　this　sudden　rearrangement　of　what　Howard　saw　as　the　battlefield　across　which　he　and　Barry　had　faced　each　other　for　so　long。

‘Howard；’　said　Maureen　sharply。　‘Howard。’

A　woman　was　striding　across　the　Square；　a　thin；　black…haired；　brown…skinned　woman　in　a　trench　coat；　who　was　scowling　at　her　booted　feet　as　she　walked。

‘D’you　think　she　…？　Has　she　heard？’　whispered　Maureen。

‘I　don’t　know；’　said　Howard。。　

Maureen；　who　had　still　not　found　time　to　change　into　her　Dr　Scholl’s；　nearly　turned　an　ankle　as　she　backed　away　from　the　windows　in　haste；　and　hurried　behind　the　counter。　Howard　walked　slowly；　majestically；　to　occupy　the　space　behind　the　till；　like　a　gunner　moving　to　his　post。

The　bell　tinkled；　and　Dr　Parminder　Jawanda　pushed　open　the　door　of　the　delicatessen；　still　frowning。　She　did　not　acknowledge　Howard　or　Maureen；　but　made　her　way　directly　to　the　shelf　of　oils。　Maureen’s　eyes　followed　her　with　the　rapt　and　unblinking　attention　of　a　hawk　watching　a　field　mouse。

‘Morning；’　said　Howard；　when　Parminder　approached　the　counter　with　a　bottle　in　her　hand。

‘Morning。’

Dr　Jawanda　rarely　looked　him　in　the　eye；　either　at　Parish　Council　meetings；　or　when　they　met　outside　the　church　hall。　Howard　was　always　amused　by　her　inability　to　dissemble　her　dislike；　it　made　him　jovial；　extravagantly　gallant　and　courteous。

‘Not　at　work　today？’

‘No；’　said　Parminder；　rummaging　in　her　purse。

Maureen　could　not　contain　herself。

‘Dreadful　news；’　she　said；　in　her　hoarse；　cracked　voice。　‘About　Barry　Fairbrother。’

‘Mm；’　said　Parminder；　but　then；　‘What？’

‘About　Barry　Fairbrother；’　repeated　Maureen。

‘What　about　him？’

Parminder’s　Birmingham　accent　was　still　strong　after　sixteen　years　in　Pagford。　A　deep　vertical　groove　between　her　eyebrows　gave　her　a　perennially　intense　look；　sometimes　of　crossness；　sometimes　of　concentration。

‘He　died；’　said　Maureen；　gazing　hungrily　into　the　scowling　face。　‘Last　night。　Howard’s　just　been　telling　me。’

Parminder　remained　quite　still；　with　her　hand　in　her　purse。　Then　her　eyes　slid　sideways　to　Howard。

‘Collapsed　and　died　in　the　golf　club　car　park；’　Howard　said。　‘Miles　was　there；　saw　it　happen。’

More　seconds　passed。

‘Is　this　a　joke？’　demanded　Parminder；　her　voice　hard　and　high…pitched。

‘Of　course　it’s　not　a　joke；’　said　Maureen；　savouring　her　own　outrage。　‘Who’d　make　a　joke　like　that？’

Parminder　set　down　the　oil　with　a　bang　on　the　glass…topped　counter　and　walked　out　of　the　shop。

‘Well！’　said　Maureen；　in　an　ecstasy　of　disapproval。　‘“Is　this　a　joke？”　Charming！’

‘Shock；’　said　Howard　wisely；　watching　Parminder　hurrying　back　across　the　Square；　her　trench　coat　flapping　behind　her。　‘She’ll　be　as　upset　as　the　widow；　that　one。　Mind　you；　it’ll　be　interesting；’　he　added；　scratching　idly　at　the　overfold　of　his　belly；　which　was　often　itchy；　‘to　see　what　she　…’

He　left　the　sentence　unfinished；　but　it　did　not　matter：　Maureen　knew　exactly　what　he　meant。　Both；　as　they　watched　Councillor　Jawanda　disappear　around　a　corner；　were　contemplating　the　casual　vacancy：　and　they　saw　it；　not　as　an　empty　space　but　as　a　magician’s　pocket；　full　of　possibilities。

VIII
The　Old　Vicarage　was　the　last　and　grandest　of　the　Victorian　houses　in　Church　Row。　It　stood　at　the　very　bottom；　in　a　big　corner　garden；　facing　St　Michael　and　All　Saints　across　the　road。

Parminder；　who　had　run　the　last　few　yards　down　the　street；　fumbled　with　the　stiff　lock　on　the　front　door　and　let　herself　inside。　She　would　not　believe　it　until　she　heard　it　from　somebody　else；　anybody　else；　but　the　telephone　was　already　ringing　ominously　in　the　kitchen。

‘Yes？’

‘It’s　Vikram。’

Parminder’s　husband　was　a　cardiac　surgeon。　He　worked　at　the　South　West　General　Hospital　in　Yarvil　and　he　never　usually　called　from　work。　Parminder　gripped　the　receiver　so　tightly　that　her　fingers　hurt。

‘I　only　heard　by　accident。　It　sounds　like　an　aneurysm。　I’ve　asked　Huw　Jeffries　to　move　the　PM　up　the　list。　Better　for　Mary　to　know　what　it　was。　They　could　be　doing　him　now。’

‘Right；’　whispered　Parminder。

‘Tessa　Wall　was　there；’　he　told　her。　‘Call　Tessa。’

‘Yes；’　said　Parminder。　‘All　right。’

But　when　she　had　hung　up；　she　sank　down　into　one　of　the　kitchen　chairs　and　stared　out　of　the　window　into　the　back　garden　without　seeing　it；　her　fingers　pressed　to　her　mouth。

Everything　had　shattered。　The　fact　that　it　was　all　still　there　–　the　walls　and　the　chairs　and　the　children’s　pictures　on　the　walls　–　meant　nothing。　Every　atom　of　it　had　been　blasted　apart　and　reconstituted　in　an　instant；　and　its　appearance　of　permanence　and　solidity　was　laughable；　it　would　dissolve　at　a　touch；　for　everything　was　suddenly　tissue…thin　and　friable。

She　had　no　control　over　her　thoughts；　they　had　broken　apart　too；　and　random　fragments　of　memory　surfaced　and　spun　out　of　sight　again：　dancing　with　Barry　at　the　Walls’　New　Year’s　party；　and　the　silly　conversation　they　had　had　walking　back　from　the　last　meeting　of　the　Parish　Council。

‘You’ve　got　a　cow…faced　house；’　she　had　told　him。

‘Cow…faced？　What　does　that　mean？’

She　couldn’t　settle。　Through　the　hall；　then　back　into　the　kitchen；　where　she　seized　the　telephone　and　called　Tessa　Wall；　who　did　not　pick　up。　She　must　be　at　work。　Parminder　returned；　trembling；　to　the　kitchen　chair。

Her　grief　was　so　big　and　wild　it　terrified　her；　like　an　evil　beast　that　had　erupted　from　under　the　floorboards。　Barry；　little；　bearded　Barry；　her　friend；　her　ally。

It　was　exactly　the　way　her　father　had　died。　She　had　been　fifteen；　and　they　had　e　back　from　town　to　find　him　lying　face…down　on　the　lawn　with　the　mower　beside　him；　the　sun　hot　on　the　back　of　his　head。　Parminder　hated　sudden　death。　The　long　wasting　away　that　so　many　people　feared　was　a　forting　prospect　to　her；　time　to　arrange　and　organize；　time　to　say　goodbye　…　

Her　hands　were　still　pressed　tightly　over　her　mouth。　She　stared　at　the　grave；　sweet　visage　of　Guru　Nanak　pinned　to　the　cork　board。

（Vikram　did　not　like　the　picture。

‘What’s　that　doing　there？’

‘I　like　it；’　she　had　said　defiantly。）

Barry；　dead。

She　tamped　down　the　awful　urge　to　cry　with　a　fierceness　that　her　mother　had　always　deplored；　especially　in　the　wake　of　her　father’s　death；　when　her　other　daughters；　and　the　aunts　and　cousins；　were　all　wailing　and　beating　their　breasts。　‘And　you　were　his　favourite　too！’　But　Parminder　kept　her　unwept　tears　locked　tightly　inside　where　they　seemed　to　undergo　an　alchemical　transformation；　returning　to　the　outer　world　as　lava　slides　of　rage；　disgorged　periodically　at　her　children　and　the　receptionists　at　work。

She　could　still　see　Howard　and　Maureen　behind　the　counter；　the　one　immense；　the　other　scrawny；　and　in　her　mind’s　eye　they　were　looking　down　at　her　from　a　height　as　they　told　her　that　her　friend　was　dead。　With　an　almost　wele　gush　of　fury　and　hatred　she　thought；　They’re　glad。　They　think　they’ll　win　now。

She　jumped　up　again；　strode　back　into　the　sitting　room　and　took　down；　from　the　top　shelf；　one　volume　of　the　Sainchis；　her　brand…new　holy　book。　Opening　it　at　random；　she　read；　with　no　surprise；　but　rather　a　sense　of　looking　at　her　own　devastated　face　in　a　mirror：

O　mind；　the　world　is　a　deep；　dark　pit。　On　every　side；　Death　casts　forward　his　。

IX
The　room　set　aside　for　the　guidance　department　at　Winterdown　prehensive　opened　off　the　school　library。　It　had　no　windows　and　was　lit　by　a　single　strip　light。

Tessa　Wall；　head　of　guidance　and　wife　of　the　deputy　headmaster；　entered　the　room　at　half…past　ten；　numb　with　fatigue　and　carrying　a　cup　of　strong　instant　coffee　that　she　had　brought　up　from　the　staff　room。　She　was　a　short　stout　woman　with　a　plain　wide　face；