gns.snakes-第15部分

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　　The　young　girl　felt　that　she　was　in　the　way；　the　hints　that　a　lot　of　girls　leave　home　and　set　up　in　a　flat　on　their　own　hurt　her。　She　would　have　left　if　she　had　had　the　opportunity；　but　with　no　money　and　no　job　the　idea　was　little　more　than　a　pipe　dream。　She　was　jealous　of　her　mother；　too。　How　was　it　that　a　woman　of　forty…five　got　a　steady　boyfriend　whilst　she；　at　seventeen；　was　still　searching　for　a　relationship？
　　
　　It　was　on　the　cards　that　Barbara　would　get　herself　pregnant　eventually。　Some　of　Stainforth's　youths　had　standing　bets　on　it；　a　quid　she's　got　one　in　the　oven　before　she's　eighteen；　50p　it's　a　boy。　And　a　fiver　says　it's　Ted　Growson's。　But　nobody　would　ever　conclusively　prove　that　it　was　Ted's　because　there　were　three　or　four　of　the　younger　men　who　would　be　reluctant　to　help　with　an　inquiry　concerning　the　fathering　of　the　Brown　baby；　and　even　if　they　were　willing　it　was　very　doubtful　if　anything　could　be　proved　conclusively。
　　
　　Barbara　had　her　baby　three　months　after　her　seventeenth　birthday　and　it　cost　George　Rowley　a　quid。　Tom　Sproson　forked　out　50p　because　it　was　a　boy　but　that　fiver　was　still　unclaimed　and　Ted　Growson's　girlfriend　had　blacked　his　eye　but　that　did　not　prove　anything。
　　
　　Life　underwent　a　drastic　change　for　Barbara　Brown　after　she　returned　to　Stainforth　from　the　maternity　hospital。　Her　own　mother　didn't　want　to　know　the　baby。　'If　you　get　doin'　them　kinda　things；　Babs；　then　you　gotta　take　the　consequences　for　it；'　Betty　mumbled　from　behind　her　cigarette。　'You　can　stop　'ere　but　don't　let　that　baby　get　makin'　a　row　in　the　night；　'cause　me　and　Bill　needs　our　sleep。'
　　
　　Somehow　Barbara　muddled　through；　relied　on　inborn　maternal　instincts　to　help　her。　In　her　own　way　she　was　happy；　she　had　somebody　who　loved　her　even　if　baby　Michael　taxed　her　patience　to　its　limits。　Often　in　the　night　she　nursed　him　to　stop　him　from　crying；　sat　up　in　bed　with　eyes　heavy　from　lack　of　sleep；　because　if　Michael　had　a　screaming　fit　Bill　would　bang　on　the　flimsy　adjoining　bedroom　wall；　yelling；　'shuddup'。　But　usually　on　fine　days　she　could　catch　up　on　her　sleep　whilst　her　son　slept　in　his　second…hand　pram　in　the　garden。　Overall；　everything　worked　out；　more　or　less。
　　
　　Yesterday　she　had　kept　him　indoors　because　of　the　snakes　warning。　They　had　kept　doors　and　windows　closed　in　accordance　with　the　policeman's　instructions　and　Michael　had　been　restless；　crying　for　long　periods；　and　Betty　had　lost　her　temper。　'Don't　know　what　the　bloody　place　is　in'　to；'　she　had　screeched。　'You　can't　go　out　'cause　they　reckon　there's　snakes　on　the　loose　but　I　never　seen　none。　So　we　all　stops　inside　and　that　flamin'　babby　'owls　his　bleedin'　'ead　off。　Well；　we　ain't　standin'　for　this　day　after　day。　It　makes　Bill　proper　niggly　and　then　'e　gets　on　at　me。　You　take　it　from　me；　Babs；　there　ain't　no　snakes　in　the　village；　if　there　are　any　they're　up　on　the　moors。　You　put　the　babby　out　tomorrow；　'e　won't　e　to　no　'arm。'
　　
　　There　had　been　a　big　fire　in　the　night；　Roberta's　barley　field　ablaze；　the　smoke　pall　hanging　over　the　village　so　that　the　inhabitants　of　Stainforth　had　to　keep　their　windows　shut　anyway。　The　smoky　night　air　was　filled　with　the　demonic　howling　of　fire　engine　and　police　sirens；　everywhere　eerily　aglow　with　an　orange　hue；　vehicles　ing　and　going　all　night　long。
　　
　　By　dawn　the　fire　was　out　but　the　stench　of　burning　lingered；　would　hang　around　for　days；　flaked　ashes　floating　in　the　slight　breeze　like　a　black　summer　snowstorm。
　　
　　'It　won't　do　Michael　no　good　out　there；'　Barbara　had　said　as　she　helped　herself　to　the　sawdust…like　remains　of　a　packet　of　cornflakes；　her　baby　held　to　her　bosom　with　her　free　arm；　seemingly　unable　to　make　up　his　mind　which　breast　he　wanted　to　feed　off　first。　Bill　was　still　upstairs　in　bed；　he　rarely　put　in　an　appearance　before　midday。
　　
　　'It　wunna　'urt　'im；'　Betty　Brown　screwed　up　her　face　into　her　usual　expression　of　perpetual　discontentment。　'Trouble　with　babbies　today　is　they're　pampered。　If　'e　lived　in　the　town　then　he'd　have　to　put　up　with　petrol　fumes　and　the　like　and　learn　to　like　'em。　A　bit　o'　smoke　never　'urt　nobody。　Bill'll　go　mad　if　'e　'as　to　put　up　with　'im　indoors　all　day　again　today。'
　　
　　So；　with　some　misgivings；　Barbara　wheeled　the　pram　out　on　to　the　square　of　grass　at　the　rear　of　the　council　house；　found　Michael　a　patch　of　shade　beside　the　single　struggling　lilac　bush　and　secured　the　pram's　rickety　brake。
　　
　　'You　go　to　sleep；　darlin'；　like　a　good　little　boy。'　She　fixed　the　hood；　pulled　the　stick　of　beads　across　for　him　to　play　with　if　he　had　the　inclination；　and　placed　his　rattle　on　the　coverlet。　He　looked　like　he　might　just　go　to　sleep。　'You　have　a　nice　sleepy…byes；　my　love；　and　in　a　bit　mummy　will　e　out　and　move　your　pram　so　that　the　sun　doesn't　shine　in　it。　See　you　in　a　bit；　lovey。'
　　
　　Michael　gurgled；　but　he　did　not　start　to　shriek　when　she　tip…toed　away。　Thank　God；　for　that。　After　all　that　motion　last　night　she　needed　to　sleep　for　an　hour　or　two。
　　
　　She　turned　back　at　the　doorway　for　one　last　look。　Silence　from　the　pram；　maybe　he　was　asleep　already。　She　coughed；　this　smoky　air　wouldn't　do　anybody　any　good；　worse　than　smoking　fags　all　day　long　like　her　mother　did。　No　good　for　the　lungs。
　　
　　There　was　a　lot　of　activity　in　the　surrounding　area　again　today。　Two　helicopters　flying　back　and　forth　on　the　hillside　below　the　moors；　a　steady　drone　that　could　be　either　soothing　or　get　on　your　nerves；　depending　on　what　sort　of　mood　you　were　in。　Cars　up　and　down　all　the　time。　She　shrugged　her　shoulders；　went　inside　and　upstairs。　There　was　no　sign　of　her　mother；　perhaps　Betty　Brown　had　decided　to　go　back　to　bed　and　keep　Bill　pany。　The　pair　of　them　must　get　bored；　she　decided；　with　nothing　to　do　all　day　except　moan　at　somebody　whose　life　was　taken　up　looking　after　a　baby。
　　
　　Barbara　stripped　off　her　clothes　and　lay　on　the　bed。　Christ；　it　was　going　to　be　hot　again　today；　she　hoped　Michael　would　be　all　right　out　there。　In　an　hour　or　so　she　would　go　out　and　check　him。
　　
　　She　felt　sure　that　the　father　of　her　baby　was　Ted　Growson；　it　could　have　been　Alun　Donnison　but　she　thought　the　odds　were　in　favour　of　Ted　because　the　time　of　the　month　had　been　right　that　Sunday　afternoon　when　she　had　gone　up　on　to　the　moors　with　him。　It　could　just　be　Alun's　though。　Not　that　it　really　mattered　which　of　them　had　fathered　her　child　because　she　would　not　want　to　be　shacked　up　with　Ted　or　Alun。　They　were　OK　for　an　hour　or　two　on　a　date　but　living　with　them　would　be　like　living　with　Bill　in　the　next　room；　all　booze；　fags　and　sleeping　in　late。
　　
　　Barbara　wished　she　could　get　away　from　Stainforth；　just　walk　out　of　the　village　pushing　Michael　in　his　pram　and　never　e　back。　A　fantasy；　because　she　didn't　have　any　money　nor　anywhere　to　go。　So　that　was　that　and　she　would　have　to　stay　put。　Bill　had　threatened　to　throw　her　out　on　occasions　and　that　was　something　that　really　worried　her；　in　fact　she　had　almost　mentioned　it　to　the　health　visitor　last　week　but　she　didn't　want　to　cause　a　rumpus。
　　
　　Her　eyelids　began　to　droop。　Those　helicopters　up　on　the　moor　were　soothing；　like　the　distant　drone　of　bees　on　the　heather。　The　sort　of　sound　that　could　send　you　off　to　sleep　whether　you　were　tired　or　not。
　　
　　Barbara　woke　with　a　start；　sat　bolt　upright；　knew　instinctively　that　she　had　overslept。　She　fought　to　focus　her　bleary　eyes；　saw　that　the　cheap　alarm　clock　on　the　dresser　said　2。30。　And　it　was　always　half　an　hour　slow。　Oh；　Christ！　She　leaped　off　the　bed；　grabbed　her　crumpled　dress　and　shrugged　it　over　her　head。　Michael　was　overdue　for　his　next　feed。　It　was　a　wonder　he　hadn't　been　screaming　the　place　down；　with　Bill　yelling；　'Shaddup；　you　little　bugger；'　or；　'Jesus；　somebody　go　and　throttle　that　babby。'
　　
　　She　ran　downstairs　barefooted。　Bill　and　Betty　must　still　be　in　bed　or　else　they　had　gone　down　to　the　pub　for　a　lunchtime　pint。　That　was　one　bit　of　bonus　peace　anyway。　Michael　had　obviously　slept　right　through；　which　was　fine　except　that　in　all　probability　he　would　not　want　to　sleep　tonight。　You　couldn't　win；　you　were　backing　a　loser　whichever　way　you　looked　at　it。
　　
　　He　must　have　just　woken　up。　As　she　stepped　out　of　the　back　door　into　the　hot　charred　atmosphere　she　heard　his　rattle　clicking；　or　it　could　have　been　the　beads　shooting　from　one　end　of　the　rod　to　the　other。
　　
　　'There's　a　good　boy。'　She　quickened　her　pace　across　the　rough　unmown　grass。　'He's　ever　such　a　good　boy。　He　knew　his　momma　was　tired　so　he's　played　with　his　rattle　and　let　his　momma　get　some　sleep。　I'm　going　to　feed　you　now；　my　darling'
　　
　　She　grasped　the　handle　of　the　pram；　pulled　it　round　so　that　it　was　back　in　the　shade　of　the　lilac　again。
　　
　　And　then　she　let　out　a　piercing　scream　that　filled　the　smoky　Stainforth　air；　dung　on　to　the　pram　in　rigid　terror。　Michael　was　up　in　the　far　corner　and　it　was　quite　obvious　that　he　was　dead；　his　tiny　pink　face　bloated　and　purplish；　head　back；　eyes　wide　and　staring；　tongue　lolling　lifelessly　out　of　his　open　mouth。
　　
　　In　that　instant　Barbara　Brown's　mind　snapped。　She　stopped　screaming；　failed　to　wonder　why　Michael's　rattle　was　still　clicking　and　clinking　even　though　he　was　dead。　She　reached　across　to　grab　him　and　at　that　moment　the　crumpled　coverlet　moved　and　from　beneath　it　a　living　coil　began　to　unfurl；　a　light…coloured　creature　with　diamond…shaped　markings　on　its　back；　a　head　with　fangs　bared；　rearing　up；　a　killer　that　had　patiently　lain　in　ambush　beside　the　corpse　of　its　fast　kill。
　　
　　It　struck；　once；　twice；　thrice。　Darting　blows；　each　one　finding　their　mark　on　arms　and　face。　She　screamed　again；　fell　back　clutching　at　the　pram；　toppled　it　over　so　that　it　threw　both　baby　and　snake　to　the　ground。
　　
　　She　was　doubled　up　with　pain；　her　brain　unable　to　cope；　staggering　blindly　away；　falling　once　and　picking　herself　up。　Oblivious　of　her　own　safety；　the　thoughts　of　a　mother　only　for　her　baby；　refusing　to　accept　that　he　was　dead。　She　ran　but　the　snake　did　not　follow；　it　moved　with　amazing　speed　that　could　easily　have　overtaken　her　had　it　so　wished；　turning　and　slithering　away　beneath　the　thick　lilac　bush；　eased　its　way　beneath　the　hedge　and　into　t