“Come out, Tina, and let’s get some air.”
“Air?” Tina looked up at Micky doubtfully. “But it’s so cold, Micky.” Sheshivered a little.
“I believe you hate fresh air, Tina. That’s why you’re able to stand beingcooped up in that library all day long.”
Tina smiled.
“I do not mind being cooped up in winter. It is very nice and warm inthe library.”
Micky looked on her.
“And there you sit, all cuddled up like a cosy1 little kitten in front of thefire. But it’ll do you good to get out, all the same. Come on, Tina. I want totalk to you. I want to—oh, to get some air into my lungs, forget all thisbloody police business.”
Tina got up from her chair with a lazy, graceful2 movement not unlikethat of the kitten to which Micky had just compared her.
In the hall she wrapped a fur-collared tweed coat round her and theywent out together.
“Aren’t you even going to put a coat on, Micky?”
“No. I never feel the cold.”
“Brr,” said Tina gently. “How I hate this country in the winter. I wouldlike to go abroad. I would like to be somewhere where the sun was alwaysshining and the air was moist and soft and warm.”
“I’ve just been offered a job out in the Persian Gulf,” said Micky, “withone of the oil companies. The job’s looking after motor transport.”
“Are you going?”
“No, I don’t think so … What’s the good?”
They walked round to the back of the house and started down a zig-zagpath through trees which led finally to the beach on the river below. Half-way down there was a small summerhouse sheltered from the wind. Theydid not at once sit down but stood in front of it, gazing out over the river.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” said Micky.
Tina looked at the view with incurious eyes.
“Yes,” she said, “yes, perhaps it is.”
“But you don’t really know, do you?” said Micky, looking at her affec-tionately, “you don’t realize the beauty, Tina, you never have.”
“I do not remember,” said Tina, “in all the years we lived here that youever enjoyed the beauty of this place. You were always fretting3, longing4 togo back to London.”
“That was different,” said Micky shortly, “I didn’t belong here.”
“That is what is the matter, isn’t it?” said Tina, “you do not belong any-where.”
“I don’t belong anywhere,” said Micky in a dazed voice. “Perhaps that’strue. My goodness, Tina, what a frightening thought. Do you rememberthat old song? Kirsten used to sing it to us, I believe. Something about adove. O fair dove, O fond dove, O dove with the white, white breast. Do you re-member?”
Tina shook her head.
“Perhaps she sang it to you, but—no, I do not remember.”
Micky went on, half speaking, half humming.
“O maid most dear, I am not here. I have no place, no part, No dwellingmore by sea nor shore, But only in thy heart.” He looked at Tina. “I supposethat could be true.”
Tina put a small hand on his arm.
“Come, Micky, sit down here. It is out of the wind. It is not so cold.”
As he obeyed her she went on:
“Must you be so unhappy always?”
“My dear girl, you don’t begin to understand the first thing about it.”
“I understand a good deal,” said Tina. “Why can’t you forget about her,Micky?”
“Forget about her? Who are you talking about?”
“Your mother,” said Tina.
“Forget about her!” said Micky bitterly. “Is there much chance of forget-ting after this morning—after the questions! If anyone’s been murdered,they don’t let you ‘forget about her’!”
“I did not mean that,” said Tina. “I meant your real mother.”
“Why should I think about her? I never saw her after I was six yearsold.”
“But, Micky, you did think about her. All the time.”
“Did I ever tell you so?”
“Sometimes one knows about these things,” said Tina.
Micky turned and looked at her.
“You’re such a quiet, soft little creature, Tina. Like a little black cat. Iwant to stroke your fur the right way. Nice pussy5! Pretty little pussy!” Hishand stroked the sleeve of her coat.
Tina, sitting very still, smiled at him as he did so. Micky said:
“You didn’t hate her, did you, Tina? All the rest of us did.”
“That was very unkind,” said Tina. She shook her head at him and wenton with some energy. “Look what she gave you, all of you. A home,warmth, kindness, good food, toys to play with, people to look after youand keep you safe—”
“Yes, yes,” said Micky, impatiently. “Saucers of cream and lots of furstroking. That was all you wanted, was it, little pussy cat?”
“I was grateful for it,” said Tina. “None of you were grateful.”
“Don’t you understand, Tina, that one can’t be grateful when one oughtto be? In some ways it makes it worse, feeling the obligation of gratitude6. Ididn’t want to be brought here. I didn’t want to be given luxurious7 sur-roundings. I didn’t want to be taken away from my own home.”
“You might have been bombed,” Tina pointed8 out. “You might have beenkilled.”
“What would it matter? I wouldn’t mind being killed. I’d have beenkilled in my own place, with my own people about me. Where I belonged.
There you are, you see. We’re back to it again. There’s nothing so bad asnot belonging. But you, little pussy cat, you only care for material things.”
“Perhaps that is true in a way,” said Tina. “Perhaps that is why I do notfeel like the rest of you. I do not feel that odd resentment9 that you all seemto feel—you most of all, Micky. It was easy for me to be grateful because,you see, I did not want to be myself. I did not want to be where I was. Iwanted to escape from myself. I wanted to be someone else. And she mademe into someone else. She made me into Christina Argyle with a homeand with affection. Secure. Safe. I loved Mother because she gave me allthose things.”
“What about your own mother? Don’t you ever think of her?”
“Why should I? I hardly remember her. I was only three years old, re-member, when I came here. I was always frightened—terrified—with her.
All those noisy quarrels with seamen10, and she herself—I suppose, nowthat I am old enough to remember properly, that she must have beendrunk most of the time.” Tina spoke11 in a detached, wondering voice. “No, Ido not think about her, or remember her. Mrs. Argyle was my mother.
This is my home.”
“It’s so easy for you, Tina,” said Micky.
“And why is it hard for you? Because you make it so! It was not Mrs.
Argyle you hated, Micky, it was your own mother. Yes, I know that what Iam saying is true. And if you killed Mrs. Argyle, as you may have done,then it was your own mother you wanted to kill.”
“Tina! What the hell are you talking about?”
“And now,” went on Tina, talking calmly, “you have nobody to hate anylonger. And that makes you quite lonely, doesn’t it? But you’ve got to learnto live without hate, Micky. It may be difficult, but it can be done.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did you mean by sayingthat I may have killed her? You know perfectly12 well I was nowhere nearhere that day. I was testing out a customer’s car up on the Moor13 Road, byMinchin Hill.”
“Were you?” said Tina.
She got up and stepped forward till she stood at the Lookout14 Point fromwhere you could look down to the river below.
“What are you getting at, Tina?” Micky came up behind her.
Tina pointed down to the beach.
“Who are those two people down there?”
Micky gave a quick cursory15 glance.
“Hester and her doctor pal16, I think,” he said. “But Tina, what did youmean? For God’s sake don’t stand there right at the edge.”
“Why—do you want to push me over? You could. I’m very small, youknow.”
Micky said hoarsely17:
“Why do you say I may have been here that evening?”
Tina did not answer. She turned and began walking back up the path tothe house.
“Tina!”
Tina said in her quiet, soft voice:
“I’m worried, Micky. I’m very worried about Hester and Don Craig.”
“Never mind about Hester and her boy friend.”
“But I do mind about them. I am afraid that Hester is very unhappy.”
“We’re not talking about them.”
“I am talking about them. They matter, you see.”
“Have you believed all along, Tina, that I was here the night Mother waskilled?”
Tina did not reply.
“You didn’t say anything at the time.”
“Why should I? There was no need. I mean, it was so obvious that Jackohad killed her.”
“And now it’s equally obvious that Jacko didn’t kill her.”
Again Tina nodded.
“And so?” Micky asked. “And so?”
She did not answer him, but continued to walk up the path to the house.
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收听单词发音
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1
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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3
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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5
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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7
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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8
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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14
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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15
cursory
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| adj.粗略的；草率的；匆促的 | |
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16
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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