gns.throwback-第26章

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art　to　turn　soon。
　　
　　That　guy　was　still　watching　him　from　the　patch　of　thorn　bushes　up　on　that　hillside　opposite；　even　if　you　couldn't　actually　see　him　you　knew　he　was　there。　He　had　moved　well　out　of　range　since　Jon　had　fired　a　barrel　of　the　shotgun　in　his　direction；　knew　what　to　expect　if　he　came　any　closer。
　　
　　It　was　obviously　the　same　fellow　who　had　been　mooching　about　after　dark；　one　of　those　who　had　e　that　night　and　looted　the　toolshed。　Hell；　there　were　plenty　of　other　places；　deserted　farms；　why　did　he　have　to　stick　around　here？　Just　having　him　in　the　vicinity　sent　little　shivers　up　and　down　Jon　Quinn's　back。　He　couldn't　understand　it；　the　bastard　wasn't　out　to　steal　anything　now　because　he　had　had　the　opportunity；　he'd　been　in　the　buildings　again　and　hadn't　taken　anything。
　　
　　Jon　had　stopped　him　for　a　time；　used　the　electric　fence　which　worked　off　an　old　car　battery；　heard　him　howl　with　pain　and　shock　the　first　night　after　it　was　set　up。　But　the　battery　had　run　down　and　he　hadn't　got　another　one。　So　he　had　taken　to　padlocking　the　toolshed　but　the　bugger　still　came。　Maybe　he　was　harmless；　just　curious；　but　he　was　getting　on　Jon's　nerves。　No　good　going　up　there　after　him　because　he　was　gone　the　moment　you　set　foot　in　the　field；　bounding　up　towards　the　forest　skyline；　hiding　out
　　
　　there。　Still　watching　you。　Well；　he'd　better　keep　his　distance　because　Jon　never　went　anywhere　without　the　twelve…bore　these　days。
　　
　　Sylvia　had　had　her　trip　into　the　village　and　she　had　not　pestered　him　to　go　anywhere　since。　The　place　had　been　deserted；　everybody　gone；　or　perhaps　nobody　had　ever　lived　there　in　the　first　place。　It　was　getting　difficult　trying　to　imagine　a　world　where　there　was　any　kind　of　normality。　Jon　was　getting　used　to　it；　accepting　it　now。
　　
　　The　manual　petrol　pump　at　the　garage　wasn't　working。　He　had　given　up　trying　in　the　end；　decided　that　he　would　have　to　keep　his　half　tank　of　fuel　for　emergencies。　They　had　called　at　the　shop；　found　the　door　swinging　open；　and　gone　inside。　The　shelves　had　been　raided；　bread　and　cakes　taken；　cooked　meat　trodden　into　the　floor；　putrefying。　The　raiders　obviously　didn't　like　processed　meats　but　the　flies　were　enjoying　a　banquet。
　　
　　Jon　filled　the　back　of　the　Land　Rover　with　as　much　canned　and　packeted　foods　as　he　could　find；　emptied　the　biscuit　rack。　Then　on　down　the　narrow　street　to　the　hardware　store。　He　had　to　smash　his　way　in；　found　an　abundance　of　tools；　more　than　enough　to　replace　the　ones　that　he　had　had　stolen。　The　law　of　the　jungle；　steal　and　steal　again。　He　had　often　wondered　idly　what　it　would　be　like　if　law　and　order　broke　down；　now　he　knew。
　　
　　He　thought　about　taking　another　vehicle；　there　were　ample　cars　parked　down　the　street；　but　he　had　decided　he　needed　a　Land　Rover　more　than　anything。　Funny　how　so　often　you　kick　yourself　for　not　thinking　of　something　at　the　time；　he　could　have　syphoned　some　petrol　out　of　one　of　them。　Maybe　next　time；　if　they　ever　went　to　the　village　again。　Since　that　day　he　had　not　had　any　reason　to　use　the　Land　Rover。　They　were　safer　on　the　Hi！！。
　　
　　The　wild　hill…dwellers　knew　that　he　and　Sylvia　were　here　all　right　but　only　that　one　up　on　the　slope　had　persistently　watched　them。　Doubtless；　a　spy。　Maybe　they　thought　the　electric　fence　was　some　kind　of　magic　and　were　keeping　their　distance　but　surely　they　had　cottoned　on　that　it　wasn't　working　any　longer。　That　guy　gave　him　the　creeps。
　　
　　Jon　had　a　harvest　to　get　in　and　even　though　a　lot　of　it　would　be　wasted　he　decided　to　occupy　his　time　reaping　the　rewards　of　work　done　during　the　days　before　all　this　happened。　The　peas　they　could　dry；　the　potatoes　could　be　stored　in　the　old　barn。　He　made　a　clamp　for　parsnips　and　carrots。　The　swedes　could　stop　in　the　ground；　he'd　lift　the　remainder　towards　Christmas　to　feed　the　goats　on。　Christmas？　How　the　hell　would　you　know　when　it　was　Christmas？
　　
　　Sylvia　was　co…operating　now　because　she　did　not　have　any　choice。　There　was　nowhere　to　go　and　he　was　satisfied　that　she　would　not　take　her　own　life。　If　there　was　a　type　then　she　certainly　wasn't　it。　She　was　adapting　slowly。
　　
　　The　calves　had　vanished　one　night　about　a　fortnight　ago；　Jon　had　found　where　they　had　been　killed；　driven　into　a　corner　of　the　field　and　probably　been　clubbed　to　death。　It　didn't　matter　much　because　he　did　not　have　enough　fodder　to　see　them　through　the　ing　winter；　and　as　he　did　not　eat　red　meat　himself　there　was　no　point　in　slaughtering　them。　All　the　same；　he　felt　sorry　for　them　that　they　had　to　die　so　brutally。
　　
　　The　winter　was　going　to　be　the　big　test　for　all　of　them；　mostly　for　the　throwbacks。　If　they　were　going　to　attack　the　holding　they　would　do　it　then　when　they　were　short　of　food　and　their　crude　houses　were　proving　inadequate　against　the　blizzards。　In　the　meantime　they　just　lived　from　day　to　day；　tried　not　to　think　about　tomorrow。　He　just　wished　he　knew　what　had　happened　to　Jackie　though。
　　
　　He　found　himself　looking　up　towards　the　thorn　bushes　again。　There　was　no　sign　of　that　guy　and　for　some　reason　he　felt　more　uneasy　than　usual。
　　
　　Sylvia　had　finished　her　routine　chores；　put　another　boiling　of　beetroot　on　the　Rayburn。　Surely　there　wasn't　much　point　in　pickling　any　more；　there　was　a　limit　to　how　much　beetroot　you　could　eat　even　in　a　time　of　food　shortage。　There　wasn't　and　wouldn't　be　a　shortage；　though；　eating　would　just　bee　boring。　Jesus；　what　would　she　give　for　a　meal　at　a　restaurant；　served　for　her　and　the　washing…up　done　by　somebody　else　afterwards！
　　
　　She　crossed　to　the　window　from　where　she　had　a　partial　view　of　the　smallholding　and　on　up　to　those　steep　fields　beyond；　the　rough　one　dotted　with　thorn　bushes　where　they　had　spied　that　lurking　figure　day　in；　day　out。　He　wasn't　in　view　now　but　she　shivered　all　the　same；　could　almost　feel　his　eyes　burning　into　her。
　　
　　Her　train　of　thinking　flipped　back　to　Eric。　For　some　reason　lately　they　were　much　closer；　closer　than　they　had　ever　been。　Which　had　to　be　a　figment　of　the　imagination　because　they　had　not　seen　each　other　since　early　summer。　And　were　not　likely　to　see　each　other　again。　Ever。
　　
　　A　feeling　of　sadness　had　her　searching　the　hillsides　with　misted　vision；　felt　a　tear　trickling　slowly　down　her　cheek。　Oh　Eric；　e　back；　please；　I　need　you。　I'm　so　sorry　for　everything。
　　
　　She　couldn't　see　Jon　any　longer；　he　was　somewhere　up　the　far　end　of　the　holding　working　on　that　strip　of　Jerusalem　artichokes。　He　could　bloody　well　stop　there　for　all　she　cared；　Christ；　she　couldn't　stick　this　for　the　rest　of　her　life；　chained　to　the　kitchen。　Give　me　a　hand　with　this；　give　me　a　lift　with　that。　We'll　be　glad　of　it　when　winter　es。　Live　for　the　bloody　winter　because　it's　going　to　be　hell。　Never　mind　the　summer；　winter's　on　the　way。　Bang　your　head　on　the　wall　because　it'll　be　lovely　when　you　stop。
　　
　　The　weather　had　certainly　turned　much　more　showery　and　Sylvia　was　keeping　the　Rayburn　in　all　day。　Jon　had　promised　to　lug　another　load　of　wood　soon。　（They'd　need　it　because　winter　was　ing。）　Raining　again；　slanting　spots　on　the　window；　just　a　shower　because　she　could　see　a　patch　of　blue　sky　behind　the　dark　grey　cloud　formation。
　　
　　Eric　again。　The　best　times　had　been　the　early　days　before　they　were　married。　Her　parents　had　not　liked　him；　they　didn't　like　anybody　who　might　just　take　advantage　of　their　sixteen…year…old　virginal　daughter。　You　take　a　tip　from　us。　Sylvia；　don't　get　tied　up　with　one　boy；　have　plenty　on　the　go。　Safety　in　numbers。　Sure；　mother；　I'd　like　plenty　of　boyfriends。　Good　girl！
　　
　　Sylvia　was　sixteen　and　a　half　when　she　got　pregnant。　It　had　happened　at　the　Jamiesons'　twenty…first　party；　at　least　that　was　what　she　told　her　parents。　True；　it　might　have。　She'd　named　Roy　Patterson　as　the　father。　Again；　it　just　might　have　been；　and　to　be　fair　to　him　he　hadn't　cut　and　run；　had　stood　like　a　man　and　owned　up　to　it。　Except　that　the　odds　were　that　it　was　Eric　Atkinson　who　had　put　her　in　the　family　way。
　　
　　The　Jamiesons　had　gone　away　for　the　weekend　which　was　why　the　party　turned　out　the　way　it　had。　By　10。30　there　were　couples　snogging　all　over　the　place　from；the　conservatory　up　to　the　sixth　bedroom。　Slow　smoochy　music　from　the　stereo　and　if　you　were　a　boy　you　grabbed　the　nearest　girl　and　tried　your　luck；　and　if　it　was　out　you　tried　another。　Sylvia　reckoned　Sue　Ballon　was　the　first　one　to　get　laid　because　she　was　always　boasting　about　having　it　off　with　somebody　and　judging　by　the　way　she　was　squealing　and　giggling　it　wasn't　just　one　of　the　lads　having　a　bit　of　finger　on　the　Chesterfield。
　　
　　Anyway；　that　was　none　of　Sylvia's　business　and　it　wasn't　long　before　Roy　Patterson　was　doing　his　best　to　have　a　feel　at　her　under　the　guise　of　doing　a　very　slow　samba；　a　new　version　that　you　had　to　be　slightly　drunk　even　to　contemplate。　A　circuitous　tour　of　the　corridors；　up　the　stairs；　and　then　they　found　themselves　in　Jerry　Jamieson's　bedroom；　the　bed　was　empty；　still　warm；　and　there　was　a　damp　patch　on　the　bottom　sheet。
　　
　　By　this　time　Sylvia　was　wanting　it　very　badly；　still　remembering　the　loss　of　her　virginity　only　ten　days　ago　（with　Billy　Farr）　and　desperate　to　relive　the　experience　all　over　again。　Roy　was　almost　too　drunk　to　get　aroused　properly　and　she　had　to　give　him　a　helping　hand。　Then　he　fumbled　and　dropped　his　French　letters　on　the　floor　and　it　took　him　five　minutes　on　his　hands　and　knees　with　his　trousers　round　his　ankles；　striking　endless　matches　and　threatening　to　set　the　pile　carpet　on　fire；　before　he　finally　found　them。
　　
　　She　told　him　not　to　bother　with　one；　even　tried　to　roll　it　off　him　when　she　got　really　randy　but　he　was　adamant。　Damn　him！　That　was　why　it　hadn't　been　such　a　good　screw；　that　and　the　fact　that　he　couldn't　keep　his　hard…on。
　　
　　So　later；　her　appetite　already　whetted；　Sylvia　had　gone　in　search　of　another　screw；　and　stumbling　about　in　the　darkened　house　that　now　resembled　a　Soho　brothel　she　had　found　Eric。　Good　old　Ek！
　　
　　He　had　confessed　years　later　that　a　bird　had　gone　cold　on　him　and　he　was　off　to　find　a　nice　quiet　place　to　jerk　off　and　sod　the　birds！　Sylvia　had　taken　him　upstairs　and　on　the　way　they　had　passed　a　still…drunk　Roy　who　had　dropped　something　else　and　was　striking　matches　again。
　　
　　Eric　had　thought　his　luck　was　in　when　she　told　him　not　to　bother　using　anything；　didn't　even　ask　if　the　time　of　the　month　was　OK。　God；　he'd　really　pounded　her　that　night；　managed　it　twice；　and　it　had　been　four　in　the　morning　when　she'd　got　home。　Her　mother　was　up　waiting　for　her。　Girls　who　stop　out　till　this　time　end　up　pregnant　before　very　long！　Not　with　Roy　Patterson　though。　His　name　threw　a　better　light　on　the　scene；　she　didn't　mention　Eric。
　　
　　Roy　had　stood　by　her　but　the　baby　had　been　adopted　so　it　was　really　academic。　She　didn't　want　to　go　out　with　him　again；　just　biding　her　time　to　produce　Eric　out　of　the　conjurer's　hat。　e　back　Eric；　I　need　you。
　　
　　Those　early　days　had　been　really　good。　They　could　have　kept　them　going　if　they　had　both　worked　at　it。　She　could　see　his　face　now　as　clearly　as　though　it　was　only　yesterday；　that　cheeky　smile；　a　quip　when　you　expected　a　lazy　draw！。　A　good　lover；　the　best　she　had　ever　had。　Jon　Quin