Archie was at work when he heard the news. Clara was two and a half months up the spout1.
"You're not, love!""I am!""You're not!""I am! And I arks de doctor what it will look like, half black an' half white an' all dat biz ness And 'im say any ting could happen. Dere's even a chance it may be blue-eyed! Kyan you imagine dat?"Archie couldn't imagine that. He couldn't imagine any piece of him slugging it out in the gene2 pool with a piece of Clara and winning. But what a possibility! What a thing that would be! He dashed out of the office on to the Euston Road for a box of cigars. Twenty minutes later he swaggered back into Morgan Hero with a huge box of Indian sweets and started making his way round the room.
"Noel, have a sticky thing. That one's good."Noel, the office junior, looked inside the oily box with suspicion. "What's all this in aid .. . ?"Archie pounded him on the back. "Going to have a kid, ain't I? Blue eyes, would you credit it?
I'm celebrating! Thing is, you can get fourteen types of dal, but you can't get a bloody3 cigar in the Euston Road for love nor money. Go on, Noel. How about this one?"Archie held up a half-white, half-pink one with an unwelcoming odour.
"Em, Mr. Jones, that's very .. . But it's not really my cup of.. ." Noel made as if to return to his filing. "I'd better get on with.. .""Oh, go on, Noel. I'm going to have a kid. Forty-seven and I'm going to have a little baby. That calls for a bit of a party, don't it? Go on ... you won't know till you try. Just give it a nibble5.""Just them Pakistani foods aren't always .. . I've got a bit of a funny .. ."Noel patted his stomach and looked desperate. Despite being in the direct mail business, Noel hated to be spoken to directly. He liked being the intermediary at Morgan Hero He liked putting calls through, telling one person what another person said, forwarding letters.
"Bloody hell, Noel .. . it's just a sweet. I'm just trying to celebrate, mate. Don't you hippies eat sweets or something?"Noel's hair was ever so slightly longer than everyone else's, and he had once bought an incense7 stick to burn in the coffee room. It was a small office, there was little to talk about, so these two things made Noel second only to Janis Joplin, just as Archie was the white Jesse Owens because he came thirteenth in the Olympics twenty-seven years ago, Gary from Accounts had a French grandmother and blew cigarette smoke out of his nose so he was Maurice Chevalier, and Elmott, Archie's fellow paper folder8, was Einstein because he could manage two thirds of The Times crossword9.
Noel looked pained. "Archie .. . Did you get my note from Mr. Hero about the folds on the .. . ?"Archie sighed. "On the Mothercare account. Yes, Noel, I've told Elmott to move the perforation."Noel looked thankful. "Well, congratulations about the ... I'll be getting on with .. ." Noel returned to his desk.
Archie left to try Maureen the receptionist. Maureen had good legs for a woman her age legs like sausages tightly packed in their skins and she'd always fancied him a bit.
"Maureen, love. I'm going to be a father!""Are you, love? Oh, I am pleased. Girl or '
"Too early to tell as yet. Blue eyes, though!" said Archie, forwhom these eyes had passed from rare genetic10 possibility to solid fact. "Would you credit it!""Did you say blue eyes, Archie, love?" said Maureen, speaking slowly so she might find a way to phrase it. "I'm not being' funny . but in't your wife, well, coloured?
Archie shook his head wonderingly. "I know! Her and me have a child, the genes11 mix up, and blue eyes! Miracle of nature!""Oh yes, miracle," said Maureen tersely12, thinking that was a polite word for what it was.
"Have a sweet?"Maureen looked dubious13. She patted her pitted pink thighs14 encased in their white tights. "Oh, Archie, love, I shouldn't. Goes straight on the legs and hips16, don't it? An' neither of us is getting any younger, are we, eh? Are we, eh? None of us can turn back the clock, can we, eh? That Joan Rivers, I wish I knew how she does it!"Maureen laughed for a long time, her trademark17 laugh at Morgan Hero shrill18 and loud, but with her mouth only slightly open, for Maureen had a morbid19 dread20 of laughter lines.
She poked21 one of the sweets with a sceptical, blood-red fingernail. "Indian, are they?""Yes, Maureen," said Archie with a blokeish grin, 'spicy22 and sweet at the same time. Bit like you.""Oh, Archie, you are funny," said Maureen sadly, for she had always fancied Archie a bit but never more than a bit because of this strange way he had about him, always talking to Pakistanis and Caribbeans like he didn't even notice and now he'd gone and married one and hadn't even thought it worth mentioning what colour she was until the office dinner when she turned up black as anything and Maureen almost choked on her prawn23 cocktail24.
Maureen stretched over her desk to attend to a ringing telephone. "I don't think I will, Archie, love .. .""Please yourself. Don't know what you're missing, though."Maureen smiled weakly and picked up the receiver. "Yes, Mr. Hero, he's right here, he's just found out he's going to be a daddy . yes, it'll have blue eyes, apparently25 .. . yes, that's what I said, something to do with genes, I suppose ... oh yes, all right .. . I'll tell him, I'll send him in ... Oh, thank you, Mr. Hero, you're very kind." Maureen stretched her talons26 across the receiver and spoke6 in a stage-whisper to Archie, "Archibald, love, Mr. Hero wants to see you. Urgent, he says. You been a naughty boy or som mink27 "I should cocoa!" said Archie, heading for the lift.
The door said:
Kelvin Hero Company DirectorMorgan Hero Direct Mail SpecialistsIt was meant to intimidate28 and Archie responded in kind, rapping the door too lightly and then too hard and then kind of falling through it when Kelvin Hero, dressed in moleskin, turned the handle to let him in.
"Archie," said Kelvin Hero, revealing a double row of pearly whites that owed more to expensive dentistry than to regular brushing. "Archie, Archie, Archie, Archie.""Mr. Hero," said Archie.
"You puzzle me, Archie," said Mr. Hero.
"Mr. Hero/ said Archie.
"Sit down there, Archie," said Mr. Hero.
"Right you are, Mr. Hero," said Archie.
Kelvin wiped a streak29 of grimy sweat from around his shirt collar, turned his silver Parker pen over a few times in his hand and took a series of deep breaths. "Now, this is quite delicate .. . and I have never considered myself a racialist, Archie .. .""Mr. Hero?"Blimey, thought Kelvin, what an eye-to-face ratio. When you want to say something delicate, you don't want that eye-to-face ratio staring up at you. Big eyes, like a child's or a baby seal's; the physiognomy of innocence30 looking at Archie Jones is like looking at something that expects to be clubbed round the head any second.
Kelvin tried a softer tack31. "Let me put it another way. Usually, when confronted with this type of delicate situation, I would, as you know, confer with you. Because I've always had a lot of time for you, Arch. I respect you. You're not flashy, Archie, you've never been flashy, but you're '
"Sturdy," finished Archie, because he knew this speech.
Kelvin smiled: a big gash32 across his face that came and went with the sudden violence of a fat man marching through swing doors. "Right, yeah, sturdy. People trust you, Archie. I know you're getting on a bit, and the old leg gives you a bit of trouble but when this business changed hands, I kept you on, Arch, because I could see straight off: people trust you. That's why you've stayed in the direct mail business so long. And I'm trusting you, Arch, to take what I've got to say in the right way.""Mr. Hero?"Kelvin shrugged33. "I could have lied to you, Archie, I could have told you that we'd made a mistake with the bookings, and there just wasn't room for you; I could have fished around in my arse and pulled out a juicy one but you're a big boy, Archie. You'd phone the restaurant, you're not a baboon34, Archie, you've got something upstairs, you'd have put two and two together '
"And made four.""And made four, exactly, Archie. You would have made four. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Archie?" said Mr. Hero.
"No, Mr. Hero," said Archie.
Kelvin prepared to cut to the chase. "That company dinner last month it was awkward, Archie, it was unpleasant. And now there's this annual do coming up with our sister company from Sunderland, about thirty of us, nothing fancy, you know, a curry35, a lager and a bit of a boogie ... as I say, it's not that I'm a racialist, "A racialist.. .""I'd spit on that Enoch Powell.. . but then again he does have a point, doesn't he? There comes a point, a saturation36 point, and people begin to feel a bit uncomfortable .. . You see, all he was saying '
"Who?""Powell, Archie, Powell try and keep up- all he was saying is enough is enough after a certain point, isn't it? I mean, it's like Delhi in Euston every Monday morning. And there's some people around here, Arch and I don't include myself here who just feel your attitude is a little strange.""Strange?""You see the wives don't like it because, let's face it, she's a sort, a real beauty incredible legs, Archie, I'd like to congratulate you on them legs and the men, well, the men don't like it 'cos they don't like to think they're wanting a bit of the other when they're sitting down to a company dinner with their lady wives, especially when she's .. . you know .. . they don't know what to make of that at all.""Who?""What?""Who are we talking about, Mr. Hero?""Look, Archie," said Kelvin, the sweat now flowing freely, distasteful for a man with his amount of chest hair, 'take these." Kelvin pushed a large wad of Luncheon37 Vouchers38 across the table. "They're left over from that raffle39 you remember, for the Biafrans.""Oh no I already won an oven mitt40 in that, Mr. Hero, there's no need'
"Take them, Archie. There's fifty pounds' worth of vouchers in there, redeemable41 in over five thousand food outlets43 nationwide. Take them. Have a few meals on me."Archie fingered the vouchers like they were so many fifty pound notes. Kelvin thought for a moment he saw tears of happiness in his eyes "Well, I don't know what to say. There's a place I go to, pretty regular like. If they take these I'm made for life. Ta very much."Kelvin took a handkerchief to his forehead. "Think nothing of it, Arch. Please.""Mr. Hero, could I.. ." Archie gestured towards the door. "It's just that I'd like to phone some people, you know, give them the news about the baby .. . if we've finished here."Kelvin nodded, relieved. Archie lifted himself out of his seat. He had just reached for the handle of the door when Kelvin snatched up his Parker pen once more and said, "Oh, Archie, one more thing.. . that dinner with the Sunderland team ... I talked to Maureen and I think we need to cut down on the numbers we put the names in a hat and yours came out. Still, I don't suppose you'll be missing much, eh? These things are always a bit of a bore.""Right you are, Mr. Hero," said Archie, mind elsewhere; praying to God that O'Connell's was a 'food outlet'; smiling to himself, imagining Samad's reaction when he copped fifty quids' worth of bloody Luncheon Vouchers.
Partly because Mrs. Jones becomes pregnant so soon after Mrs. Iqbal and partly because of a daily proximity44 (by this point Clara is working part time as a supervisor45 for a Kilburn youth group which looks like the fifteen-man line-up of a ska and roots band six-inch Afros, Adidas track suits brown ties, Velcro, sun-tinted shades and Alsana attends an Asian Women's Pre-natal Class in Kilburn High Road round the corner), the two women begin to see more of each other. Hesitant in the beginning a few lunch dates here and there, the occasional coffee what begins as a rear guard action against their husbands' friendship soon develops. They have resigned themselves to their husbands' mutual46 appreciation47 society and the free time this leaves is not altogether unpleasant; there is time for picnics and outings, for discussion and personal study; for old French movies where Alsana screams and covers her eyes at the suggestion of nudity ("Put it away! We are not wanting to see the dangly48 bits!") and Clara gets a glimpse of how the other half live: the half who live on romance, passion and joie de vivre. The other half who have sex. The life that might have been hers had she not been at the top of some stairs one fine day as Archibald Jones waited at the bottom.
Then, when their bumps become too large and cinema seats no longer accommodate them, the women begin to meet up for lunch in Kilburn Park, often with the Niece-of-Shame, the three of them squeezed on to a generous bench where Alsana presses a thermos49 of P. G. Tips into Clara's hand, without milk, with lemon. Unwraps several layers of cling-film to reveal today's peculiar50 delight: savoury dough-like balls, crumbly Indian sweets shot through with the colours of the kaleidoscope, thin pastry51 with spiced beef inside, salad with onion; saying to Clara, "Eat up! Stuff yourself silly! It's in there, wallowing around in your belly52, waiting for the menu. Woman, don't torture it! You want to starve the bump?" For, despite appearances, there are six people on that bench (three living, three coming); one girl for Clara, two boys for Alsana.
Alsana says, "Nobody's complaining, let's get that straight. Children are a blessing53, the more the merrier. But I tell you, when I turned my head and saw that fancy ultra-business thingummybob ...""Ultrasound," corrects Clara, through a mouthful of rice.
"Yes, I almost had the heart attack to finish me off! Two! Feeding one is enough!"Clara laughs and says she can imagine Samad's face when he saw it.
"No, dearie." Alsana is reproving, tucking her large feet underneath54 the folds of her said. "He didn't see anything. He wasn't there. I am not letting him see things like that. A woman has to have the private things a husband needn't be involved in body-business, in a lady's .. . parts."Niece-of-Shame, who is sitting between them, sucks her teeth.
"Bloody hell, Alsi, he must've been involved in your parts sometime, or is this the immaculate bloody conception?""So rude," says Alsana to Clara in a snooty, English way. "Too old to be so rude and too young to know any better."And then Clara and Alsana, with the accidental mirroring that happens when two people are sharing the same experience, both lay their hands on their bulges55.
Neena, to redeem42 herself: "Yeah .. . well .. . How are you doing on names? Any ideas?"Alsana is decisive. "Meena and Malana, if they are girls. If boys: Magid and Millat. Ems are good. Ems are strong. Mahatma, Muhammad, that funny Mr. Morecambe, from Morecambe and Wise letter you can trust."But Clara is more cautious, because naming seems to her a fearful responsibility, a god-like task for a mere56 mortal. "If it's a girl, I tink I like Irie. It patois57. Means every ting OX, cool, peaceful, you know?"Alsana is horrified58 before the sentence is finished: '"O K"? This is a name for a child? You might as well call her "Wouldsirlikeanypoppadomswiththat?" or "Niceweatherweare having"."And Archie likes Sarah. Well, dere not much you can argue wid in Sarah, but dere's not much to get happy 'bout4 either. I suppose if it was good enough for the wife of Abraham'
"Ibrahim," Alsana corrects, out of instinct more than Qur'anic pedantry59, 'popping out babies when she was a hundred years old, by the grace of Allah."And then Neena, groaning60 at the turn the conversation is taking: "Well, I like Me. It's funky61. It's different."Alsana loves this. "For pity's sake, what does Archibald know about fimky. Or different. If I were you, dearie," she says, patting Clara's knee, "I'd choose Sarah and let that be an end to it.
Sometimes you have to let these men have it their way. Anything for a little how do you say it in the English? For a little' she puts her finger over tightly pursed lips, like a guard at the gate 'shush."But in response Niece-of-Shame puts on the thick accent, bats her voluminous eyelashes, wraps her college scarf round her head like purdah. "Oh yes, Auntie, yes, the little submissive Indian woman.
You don't talk to him, he talks at you. You scream and shout at each other, but there's no communication. And in the end he wins anyway because he does whatever he likes, when he likes.
You don't even know where he is, what he does, what he feels, half the time. It's 1975, Alsi. You can't conduct relationships like that any more. It's not like back home. There's got to be communication between men and women in the West, they've got to listen to each other, otherwise .. ." Neena mimes62 a small mushroom cloud going off in her hand.
"What a load of the cod's wallop," says Alsana sonorously63, closing her eyes, shaking her head, 'it is you who do not listen. By Allah, I will always give as good as I get. But you presume I care what he does. You presume I want to know. The truth is, for a marriage to survive you don't need all this talk, talk, talk; all this "I am this" and "I am really like this" like in the papers, all this revelation especially when your husband is old, when he is wrinkly and falling apart you do not want to know what is slimy underneath the bed and rattling64 in the wardrobe."Neena frowns, Clara cannot raise serious objection, and the rice is handed around once more.
"Moreover," says Alsana after a pause, folding her dimpled arms underneath her breasts, pleased to be holding forth65 on a subject close to this formidable bosom66, 'when you are from families such as ours you should have learnt that silence, what is not said, is the very best recipe for family life."For all three have been brought up in strict, religious families, houses where God appeared at every meal, infiltrated67 every childhood game, and sat in the lotus position under the bedclothes with a torch to check nothing untoward68 was occurring.
"So let me get this straight," says Neena derisively69. "You're saying that a good dose of repression70 keeps a marriage healthy."And as if someone had pressed a button, Alsana is outraged71. "Repression! Nonsense silly-billy word! I'm just talking about common sense. What is my husband? What is yours?" she says, pointing to Clara. "Twenty-five years they live before we are even born. What are they? What are they capable of? What blood do they have on their hands? What is sticky and smelly in their private areas? Who knows?" She throws her hands up, releasing the questions into the unhealthy Kilburn air, sending a troupe72 of sparrows up with them.
"What you don't understand, my Niece-of-Shame, what none of your generation understands At which point Neena cannot stop a piece of onion escaping from her mouth due to the sheer strength of her objection. "My generation? For fucks sake you're two years older than me, Alsi."But Alsana continues regardless, miming73 a knife slicing through the niece-of-shame tongue-of-obscenity, '.. . is that not everybody wants to see into everybody else's sweaty, secret parts.""But Auntie," begs Neena, raising her voice, because this is what she really wants to argue about, the largest sticking point between the two of them, Alsana's arranged marriage. "How can you bear to live with somebody you don't know from Adam?"In response, an infuriating -wink: Alsana always likes to appear jovial74 at the very moment that her interlocutor becomes hot under the collar. "Because, Miss Smarty-pants, it is by far the easier option. It was exactly because Eve did not know Adam from Adam that they got on so A-OK.
Let me explain. Yes, I was married to Samad Iqbal the same evening of the very day I met him. Yes, I didn't know him from Adam. But I liked him well enough. We met in the breakfast room on a steaming Delhi day and he fanned me with The Times. I thought he had a good face, a sweet voice, and his backside was high and well formed for a man of his age. Very good. Now, every time I learn something more about him, 7 like him less. So you see, we were better off the way we were."Neena stamps her foot in exasperation75 at the skewed logic76.
"Besides, I will never know him well. Getting anything out of my husband is like trying to squeeze water out when you're stoned."Neena laughs despite herself. "Water out of a stone.""Yes, yes. You think I'm so stupid. But I am wise about things like men. I tell you' - Alsana prepares to deliver her summation77 as she has seen it done many years previously78 by the young Delhi lawyers with their slick side partings Then are the last mystery. God is easy compared with men. Now, enough of the philosophy: samosa79?" She peels the lid off the plastic tub and sits fat, pretty and satisfied on her conclusion.
"Shame that you're having them," says Neena to her aunt, lighting80 a fag. "Boys, I mean. Shame that you're going to have boys.""What do you mean?"This is Clara, who is the recipient81 of a secret (kept secret from Alsana and Archie) lending library of Neena's through which she reads, in a few short months, Greer's Female Eunuch, Jong's Fear of Flying and The Second Sex, all in a clandestine82 attempt, on Neena's part, to rid Clara of her 'false consciousness'.
"I mean, I just think men have caused enough chaos83 this century. There's enough fucking men in the world. If I knew I was going to have a boy' she pauses to prepare her two falsely conscious friends for this new concept I'd have to seriously consider abortion84."Alsana screams, claps her hands over one of her own ears and one of Clara's, and then almost chokes on a piece of aubergine. For some reason the remark simultaneously85 strikes Clara as funny; hysterically86, desperately87 funny; miserably88 funny; and the Niece-of-Shame sits between the two, nonplussed89, while the two egg-shaped women bend over themselves, one in laughter, the other in horror and asphyxiation90.
"Are you all right, ladies?"It is Sol Jozefowicz, the old guy who back then took it upon himself to police the park (though his job as park keeper had long since been swept away in council cuts), Sol Jozefowicz stands in front of them, ready as always to be of aid.
"We are all going to burn in hell, Mr. Jozefowicz, if you call that being all right," explains Alsana, pulling herself together.
Niece-of-Shame rolls her eyes. "Speak for yourself But Alsana is faster than any sniper when it comes to firing back. "I do, I do thankfully Allahhas arranged it that way.""Good afternoon, Neena, good afternoon, Mrs. Jones," says Sol, offering a neat bow to each.
"Are you sure you are all right? Mrs. Jones?"Clara cannot stop the tears from squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. She cannot work out, at this moment, whether it is crying or laughing.
"I'm fine .. . fine, sorry to have worried you, Mr. Jozefowicz . really, I'm fine.""I do not see what's so very funny-funny," mutters Alsana. The murder of innocents is this funny?""Not in my experience, Mrs. Iqbal, no," says Sol Jozefowicz, in the collected manner in which he said everything, passing his handkerchief to Clara. It strikes all three women the way historywill, embarrassingly, without warning, like a blush what the ex-park keeper's experience mighthave been. They fall silent.
"Well, as long as you ladies are fine, I'll be getting on," says Sol, motioning that Clara can keep the handkerchief and replacing the hat he had removed in the old fashion. He bows his neat little bow once more, and sets off slowly, anti-clockwise round the park.
Once Sol is out of earshot: "OK, Auntie Alsi, I apologize, I apologize .. . For fuck's sake, what more do you want?""Oh, every-bloody-thing," says Alsana, her voice losing the fight, becoming vulnerable. "The whole bloody universe made clear in a little nutshell. I cannot understand a thing any more, and I am just beginning. You understand?"She sighs, not waiting for an answer, not looking at Neena, but across the way at the hunched91, disappearing figure of Sol winding92 in and out of the yew93 trees. "You may be right about Samad .. . about many things. Maybe there are no good men, not even the two I might have in this belly .. . and maybe I do not talk enough with mine, maybe I have married a stranger. You might see the truth better than I. What do I know .. . barefoot country girl.. . never went to the universities.""Oh, Alsi," Neena is saying, weaving in and out of Alsana's words like tapestry94; feeling bad.
"You know I didn't mean it like that.""But I cannot be worrying-worrying all the time about the truth. I have to worry about the truth that can be lived with. And that is the difference between losing your marbles drinking the salty sea,or swallowing the stuff from the streams. My Niece-of Shame believes in the talking cure, eh?"says Alsana, with something of a grin. "Talk, talk, talk and it will be better. Be honest, slice open your heart and spread the red stuff around. But the past is made of more than words, dearie. We married old men, you see? These bumps' - Alsana pats them both 'they will always have daddy-long-legs for fathers. One leg in the present, one in the past. No talking will change this.
Their roots will always be tangled95. And roots get dug up. Just look in my garden birds at the coriander every bloody day .. ."Just as he reaches the far gate, Sol Jozefowicz turns round to wave, and three women wave back. Clara feels a little theatrical96, flying his cream handkerchief above her head. Like she is seeing someone off for a train journey crossing the border of two countries.
"How did they meet?" asks Neena, trying to lift the cloud that has somehow descended97 on their picnic. "I mean Mr. Jones and Samad Miah."Alsana throws her head back, a dismissive gesture. "Oh, in the war. Off killing98 some poor bastards99 who didn't deserve it, no doubt. And what did they get for their trouble? A broken hand for Samad Miah and for the other one a funny leg. Some use, some use, all this.""Archie's right leg," says Clara quietly, pointing to a place in her own thigh15. "A piece of metal, I tink. But he don' really tell me nuttin'.""Oh, who cares!" Alsana bursts out. "I'd trust Vishnu the many handed pick-pocket before I believed a word those men say."But Clara holds dear the image of the young soldier Archie, particularly when the old, flabby Direct Mail Archie is on top of her. "Oh, come now .. . we don' know what'
Alsana spits quite frankly100 on the grass. "Shitty lies! If they are heroes, where are their hero things? Where are the hero bits and bobs? Heroes they have things. They have hero stuff. You can spot them ten miles away. I've never seen a medal .. . and not so much as a photograph." Alsana makes an unpleasant noise at the back of her throat, her signal for disbelief. "So look at it no, dearie, it must be done look at it close up. Look at what is left. Samad has one hand; says he wants to findGod but the fact is God's given him the slip; and he has been in that curry house for two yearsalready, serving up stringy goat to the whiteys who don't know any better, and Archibald well, look at the thing close up .. ."Alsana stops to check with Clara if she could speak her mind young girl looking at an old man close up; finishing Alsana's sentence with the beginning of a smile spreading across her face, '.. . folds paper for a living, dear Jesus."
收听单词发音 |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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gene
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| n.遗传因子，基因 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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incense
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folder
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crossword
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genetic
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| adj.遗传的，遗传学的 | |
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genes
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| n.基因( gene的名词复数 ) | |
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tersely
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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thigh
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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17
trademark
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| n.商标；特征；vt.注册的…商标 | |
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18
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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19
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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20
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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21
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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22
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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23
prawn
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| n.对虾，明虾 | |
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24
cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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25
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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26
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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27
mink
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| n.貂，貂皮 | |
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28
intimidate
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| vt.恐吓，威胁 | |
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29
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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30
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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31
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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32
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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33
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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34
baboon
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| n.狒狒 | |
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35
curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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36
saturation
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| n.饱和(状态)；浸透 | |
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37
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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38
vouchers
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| n.凭证( voucher的名词复数 )；证人；证件；收据 | |
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39
raffle
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| n.废物，垃圾，抽奖售卖；v.以抽彩出售 | |
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mitt
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| n.棒球手套，拳击手套，无指手套；vt.铐住，握手 | |
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41
redeemable
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| 可赎回的，可补救的 | |
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42
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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43
outlets
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| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
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44
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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45
supervisor
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| n.监督人，管理人，检查员，督学，主管，导师 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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47
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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dangly
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| 悬摆的，摆晃的 | |
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49
thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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50
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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51
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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52
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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53
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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54
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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bulges
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| 膨胀( bulge的名词复数 )； 鼓起； （身体的）肥胖部位； 暂时的激增 | |
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56
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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57
patois
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| n.方言；混合语 | |
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58
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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59
pedantry
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| n.迂腐，卖弄学问 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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funky
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| adj.畏缩的，怯懦的，霉臭的；adj.新式的，时髦的 | |
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62
mimes
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| n.指手画脚( mime的名词复数 )；做手势；哑剧；哑剧演员v.指手画脚地表演，用哑剧的形式表演( mime的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sonorously
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| adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；堂皇地；朗朗地 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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66
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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infiltrated
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| adj.[医]浸润的v.（使）渗透，（指思想）渗入人的心中( infiltrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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73
miming
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| v.指手画脚地表演，用哑剧的形式表演( mime的现在分词 ) | |
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74
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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75
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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76
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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77
summation
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| n.总和；最后辩论 | |
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78
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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79
samosa
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| n.煎饺 | |
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80
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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81
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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82
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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83
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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84
abortion
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| n.流产，堕胎 | |
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85
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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86
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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87
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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88
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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nonplussed
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| adj.不知所措的，陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
asphyxiation
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| n. 窒息 | |
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91
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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92
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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93
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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94
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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95
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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96
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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97
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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98
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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99
bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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100
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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