4 PM
KIT1 was furious about the sleeping arrangements.
He sat in the living room with his father, his nephew Tom, his brother-in-law Hugo, and Miranda's fiance, Ned. Mamma Marta looked down on them from her portrait on the wall. Kit always felt she looked impatient in that picture, as if she could hardly wait to get out of her ball gown, put on an apron2, and start making lasagne.
The women of the family were preparing tomorrow's Christmas dinner, and the older children were in the barn. The men were watching a movie on TV. The hero, played by John Wayne, was a narrow-minded bully3, a bit like Harry4 Mac, Kit thought. He found it hard to follow the plot. He was too tense.
He had specifically told Miranda he needed to be in the cottage. She had been so sentimental5 about his joining the family for Christmas, she had practically gone down on her knees to plead with him to come. But, after he had agreed to do what she wanted, she had failed to fulfill6 the one condition he had made. Typical woman.
The old man was not sentimental, though. He was about as softhearted as a Glasgow policeman on a Saturday night. He had obviously overruled Miranda, with Olga's encouragement. Kit thought his sisters ought to have been called Goneril and Regan, after the predatory daughters of King Lear.
Kit had to leave Steepfall tonight and come back tomorrow morning without anyone knowing he had been away. If he had been sleeping in the cottage, it would have been easier. He could have pretended to go to bed, turned off the lights, then sneaked7 away quietly. He had already moved his car to the garage forecourt, away from the house, so that no one would hear the engine starting. He would be back by mid-morning, before anyone would expect him to be up, and could have slipped quietly back into the cottage and gone innocently to bed.
Now it would be much more difficult. His room was in the creaky old part of the main house, next to Olga and Hugo. He would have to wait until everyone had retired9. When the house was quiet, he would have to creep out of his room, tiptoe down the stairs, and leave the house in total silence. If someone should open a door—Olga, for instance, crossing the landing to go to the bathroom—what would he say? "I'm just going to get some fresh air." In the middle of the night, in the snow? And what would he do in the morning? It was almost certain that someone would see him coming in. He would have to say he had been for a walk, or a drive. And then, later, when the police were asking questions, would anyone remember his uncharacteristic early morning stroll?
He tried to put that worry out of his mind. He had a more immediate10 problem. He had to steal the smart card his father used to enter BSL4.
He could have bought any number of such cards from a security supplier, but smart cards came from the manufacturer embedded11 with a site code that ensured they would work at only one location. Cards bought from a supplier would have the wrong code for the Kremlin.
Nigel Buchanan had questioned him persistently12 about stealing the card. "Where does your father keep it?"
"In his jacket pocket, usually."
"And if it's not there?"
"In his wallet, or his briefcase13, I expect."
"How can you take it without being seen?"
"It's a big house. I'll do it when he's in the bath, or out for a walk."
"Won't he notice it's gone?"
"Not until he needs to use it, which won't be until Friday at the earliest. By then I'll have put it back."
"Can you be sure?"
At that point Elton had interrupted. In his broad south London accent he had said, "Bloody14 hell, Nige! We're counting on Kit to get us into a heavily guarded high-security laboratory. We're in trouble if he can't nick something off his own fuckin' father."
Stanley's card would have the right site code, but the chip in it would contain Stanley's fingerprint15 data, not Kit's. However, he had thought of a way around that.
The movie was building to a climax16. John Wayne was about to start shooting people. This was a good moment for Kit to make a clandestine17 move.
He got up, grunted18 something about the bathroom, and went out. From the hall, he glanced into the kitchen. Olga was stuffing a huge turkey while Miranda cleaned brussels sprouts19. Along one wall were two doors, one to the laundry and the other to the dining room. As he looked, Lori came out of the laundry carrying a folded tablecloth20 and took it into the dining room.
Kit stepped into his father's study and closed the door.
The likeliest place for the smart card was in one of the pockets of his father's suit coat, as he had told Nigel. He had expected to find the jacket either on the hook behind the door or draped over the back of the desk chair; but he saw immediately that it was not in the room.
He decided21 to check some other possibilities while he was here. It was risky—anyone might come in, and what would he say? But he had to take chances. The alternative was no robbery, no three hundred thousand pounds, no ticket to Lucca—and, worst of all, the debt to Harry Mac unpaid22. He remembered what Daisy had done to him that morning, and shuddered23.
The old man's briefcase was on the floor beside the desk. Kit went through it quickly. It contained a file of scatter24 graphs, all meaningless to Kit; todays Times with the crossword25 not quite finished; half a bar of chocolate; and the small leather notebook in which his father made lists of things he had to do. Old people always had lists, Kit had noticed. Why were they so terrified of forgetting something?
The top of the pedestal desk was tidy, and Kit could not see a card or mything that might contain one: just a small stack of files, a pencil jar, and a book entitled Seventh Report of the International Committee on Taxonomy of Viruses.
He started opening the drawers. His breath came fast and he felt his heartbeat speed up. But if he were caught, what would they do—call the police? He told himself he had nothing to lose, and carried on; but his hands were unsteady.
His father had been using this desk for thirty years, and the accumulation of useless objects was staggering: souvenir key rings, dried-up pens, an old-fashioned printing calculator, stationery26 with out-of-date phone codes, ink bottles, manuals for obsolete27 software—how long was it since anyone had used PlanPerfect? But there was no smart card.
Kit left the room. No one had seen him go in, and no one saw him go out.
He went quietly up the stairs. His father was not an untidy man, and rarely lost things: he would not have carelessly left his wallet in some unlikely place such as the boot cupboard. The only remaining possibility was the bedroom.
Kit went inside and closed the door.
His mother's presence was gradually disappearing. Last time he was here, her possessions were still scattered28 around: a leather writing case, a silver brush set that had belonged to her mother, a photograph of Stanley in an antique frame. Those had gone. But the curtains and the upholstery were the same, done in a bold blue-and-white fabric29 that was typical of his mother's dramatic taste.
On either side of the bed were a pair of Victorian commode chests made of heavy mahogany, used as bedside tables. His father had always slept on the right of the big double bed. Kit opened the drawers on that side. He found a flashlight, presumably for power cuts, and a volume of Proust, presumably for insomnia30. He checked the drawers on his mother's side of the bed, but they were empty.
The suite31 was arranged as three rooms: first the bedroom, then the dressing32 room, then the bathroom. Kit went into the dressing room, a square space lined with closets, some painted white, some with mirrored doors. Outside it was twilight33, but he could see well enough for what he needed to do, so he did not switch on the lights.
He opened the door of his father's suit cupboard. There on a hanger34 was the jacket of the suit Stanley was wearing today. Kit reached into the inside pocket and drew out a large black leather wallet, old and worn. It contained a small wad of banknotes and a row of plastic cards. One was a smart card for the Kremlin.
"Bingo," Kit said softly.
The bedroom door opened.
Kit had not closed the door to the dressing room, and he was able to look through the doorway35 and see his sister Miranda step into the bedroom, carrying an orange plastic laundry basket.
Kit was in her line of sight, standing36 at the open door of the suit cupboard, but she did not immediately spot him in the twilight, and he quickly moved behind the dressing-room door. If he peeked37 around the side of the door, he could see her reflected in the big mirror on the bedroom wall.
She switched the lights on and began to strip the bed. She and Olga were obviously doing some of Lori's chores. Kit decided he would just have to wait.
He suffered a moment of self-dislike. Here he was, acting38 like an intruder in the house of his family. He was stealing from his father and hiding from his sister. How had it got like this?
He knew the answer. His father had let him down. Just when he needed help, Stanley had said no. That was the cause of everything.
Well, he would leave them all behind. He would not even tell them where he was going. He would make a new life in a different country. He would disappear into the small-town routine of Lucca, eating tomatoes and pasta, drinking Tuscan wine, playing pinochle for low stakes in the evenings. He would be like a background figure in a big painting, the passerby39 who does not look at the dying martyr40. He would be at peace.
Miranda began to make up the bed with fresh sheets, and at that moment Hugo came in.
He had changed into a red pullover and green corduroy trousers, and he looked like a Christmas elf. He closed the door behind him. Kit frowned. Did Hugo have secrets to discuss with his wife's sister?
Miranda said, "Hugo, what do you want?" She sounded wary41.
Hugo gave her a conspiratorial42 grin, but he said, "I just thought I'd give you a hand." He went to the opposite side of the bed and started tucking in the sheet.
Kit was standing behind the dressing-room door with his father's wallet in one hand and a smart card for the Kremlin in the other, but he could not move without risking discovery.
Miranda tossed a clean pillowcase across the bed. "Here," she said.
Hugo stuffed a pillow into it. Together they arranged the bedcover. "It seems ages since we've seen you," Hugo said. "I miss you."
"Don't talk rubbish," Miranda said coolly.
Kit was puzzled but fascinated. What was going on here?
Miranda smoothed the cover. Hugo came around the end of the bed. She picked up her laundry basket and held it in front of her like a shield. Hugo gave his impish grin and said, "How about a kiss, for old times' sake?"
Kit was mystified. What old times was Hugo talking about? He had been married to Olga for nearly twenty years. Had he kissed Miranda when she was fourteen?
"Stop that, right now," Miranda said firmly.
Hugo grasped the laundry basket and pushed. The backs of Miranda's legs came up against the edge of the bed. Involuntarily, she sat down. She released the basket and used her hands to balance herself. Hugo tossed the basket aside, bent43 over her, and pushed her back, kneeling on the bed with his legs either side of her. Kit was flabbergasted. He had guessed that Hugo might be something of a Lothario, just from his generally flirtatious44 manner with attractive women; but he had never imagined him with Miranda.
Hugo pushed up her loose, pleated skirt. She had heavy hips45 and thighs46. She was wearing lacy black knickers and a garter belt, and for Kit this was the most astonishing revelation yet.
"Get off me now," she said.
Kit did not know what to do. This was none of his business, so he was not inclined to interfere47; but he could hardly stand here and watch. Even if he turned away, he could not help hearing what was going on. Could he sneak8 past them while they were wrestling? No, the room was too small. He remembered the panel at the back of the closet that led to the attic48, but he could not get to the closet without risking being seen. In the end he just stood paralyzed, looking on.
"Just a quickie," Hugo said. "No one will know."
Miranda drew back her right arm and swung at Hugo's face, hitting him square on the cheek with a mighty49 slap. Then she lifted her knee sharply, making contact somewhere in the area of his groin. She twisted, threw him off, and jumped to her feet.
Hugo remained lying on the bed. "That hurt!" he protested.
"Good," she said. "Now listen to me. Never do anything like that again."
He zipped his fly and stood up. "Why not? What will you do—tell Ned?"
"I ought to tell him, but I haven't got the courage. I slept with you once, when I was lonely and depressed50, and I've regretted it bitterly ever since."
So that was it, Kit thought—Miranda slept with Olga's husband. He was shocked. He was not surprised by Hugo's behavior—shagging the wife's sister on the side was the kind of cozy51 setup many men would like. But Miranda was prissily moral about such things. Kit would have said that she would not sleep with anyone's husband, let alone her sister's.
Miranda went on: "It was the most shameful52 thing I've done in my life, and I don't want Ned to find out about it, ever."
"So what are you threatening to do? Tell Olga?"
"She would divorce you and never speak to me again. It would explode this family."
It might not be that bad, Kit thought; but Miranda was always anxious about keeping the family together.
"That leaves you a bit helpless, doesn't it?" Hugo said, looking pleased. "Since we can't be enemies, why don't you just kiss me nicely and be friends?"
Miranda's voice went cold. "Because you disgust me."
"Ah, well." Hugo sounded resigned, but unashamed. "Hate me, then. I still adore you." He gave his most charming smile and left the room, limping slightly.
As the door slammed, Miranda said, "You fucking bastard53."
Kit had never heard her swear like that.
She picked up her laundry basket; then, instead of going out as he expected, she turned toward him. She must have fresh towels for the bathroom, he realized. There was no time to move. In three steps she reached the entrance to the dressing room and turned on the lights.
Kit was just able to slip the smart card into his trousers pocket. An instant later she saw him. She gave a squeal54 of shock. "Kit! What are you doing there? You gave me a fright!" She went white, and added, "You must have heard everything."
"Sorry." He shrugged55. "I didn't want to."
Her complexion56 changed from pale to flushed. "You won't tell, will your
"Of course not."
"I'm serious, Kit. You must never tell. It would be awful. It could ruin two marriages."
"I know, I know."
She saw the wallet in his hand. "What are you up to?"
He hesitated, then he was inspired. "I needed cash." He showed her the banknotes in the wallet.
"Oh, Kit!" She was distressed57, not judgmental. "Why do you always want easy money?"
He bit back an indignant retort. She believed his cover story, that was the main thing. He said nothing and tried to look ashamed.
She went on: "Olga always says you'd rather steal a shilling than earn an honest pound."
"All right, don't rub it in."
"You mustn't pilfer58 from Daddy's wallet—it's awful!"
"I'm a bit desperate."
"I'll give you money!" She put down the laundry basket. There were two pockets in the front of her skirt. She reached into one and pulled out a crumple59 of notes. She extracted two fifties, smoothed them out, and gave them to Kit. "Just ask me—I'll never turn you down."
"Thanks, Mandy," he said, using her childhood name.
"But you must never steal from Daddy."
"Okay."
"And, for pity's sake, don't ever tell anyone about me and Hugo."
"I promise," he said.
收听单词发音 |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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briefcase
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| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
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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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fingerprint
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| n.指纹；vt.取...的指纹 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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sprouts
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| n.新芽，嫩枝( sprout的名词复数 )v.发芽( sprout的第三人称单数 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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crossword
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| n.纵横字谜，纵横填字游戏 | |
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stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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insomnia
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| n.失眠，失眠症 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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hanger
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| n.吊架，吊轴承；挂钩 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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peeked
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| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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passerby
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| n.过路人，行人 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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conspiratorial
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| adj.阴谋的，阴谋者的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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flirtatious
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| adj.爱调情的，调情的，卖俏的 | |
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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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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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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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55
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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pilfer
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| v.盗，偷，窃 | |
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crumple
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| v.把...弄皱，满是皱痕，压碎，崩溃 | |
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