首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第76章

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‘Mollison’s　a　megalomaniac；’　Parminder　said；　pushing　food　nervously　around　her　plate。　‘A　bully　and　a　megalomaniac。’

Vikram　laid　down　his　knife　and　fork　and　sat　back　in　his　chair。

‘So　why；’　he　asked；　‘is　he　happy　being　chair　of　the　Parish　Council？　Why　hasn’t　he　tried　to　get　on　the　District　Council？’

‘Because　he　thinks　that　Pagford　is　the　epicentre　of　the　universe；’　snapped　Parminder。　‘You　don’t　understand：　he　wouldn’t　swap　being　chair　of　Pagford　Parish　Council　for　being　Prime　Minister。　Anyway；　he　doesn’t　need　to　be　on　the　council　in　Yarvil；　he’s　already　got　Aubrey　Fawley　there；　pushing　through　the　big　agenda。　All　revved　up　for　the　boundary　review。　They’re　working　together。’

Parminder　felt　Barry’s　absence　like　a　ghost　at　the　table。　He　would　have　explained　it　all　to　Vikram　and　made　him　laugh　in　the　process；　Barry　had　been　a　superb　mimic　of　Howard’s　speech　patterns；　of　his　rolling；　waddling　walk；　of　his　sudden　gastrointestinal　interruptions。

‘I　keep　telling　her；　she’s　letting　herself　get　too　stressed；’　Vikram　told　Tessa；　who　was　appalled　to　find　herself　blushing　slightly；　with　his　dark　eyes　upon　her。　‘You　know　about　this　stupid　plaint　–　the　old　woman　with　emphysema？’

‘Yes；　Tessa　knows。　Everyone　knows。　Do　we　have　to　discuss　it　at　the　dinner　table？’　snapped　Parminder；　and　she　jumped　to　her　feet　and　began　clearing　the　plates。

Tessa　tried　to　help；　but　Parminder　told　her　crossly　to　stay　where　she　was。　Vikram　gave　Tessa　a　small　smile　of　solidarity　that　made　her　stomach　flutter。　She　could　not　help　remembering；　as　Parminder　clattered　around　the　table；　that　Vikram　and　Parminder　had　had　an　arranged　marriage。
。电子书
（‘It’s　only　an　introduction　through　the　family；’　Parminder　had　told　her；　in　the　early　days　of　their　friendship；　defensive　and　annoyed　at　something　she　had　seen　in　Tessa’s　face。　‘Nobody　makes　you　marry；　you　know。’

But　she　had　spoken；　at　other　times；　of　the　immense　pressure　from　her　mother　to　take　a　husband。

‘All　Sikh　parents　want　their　kids　married。　It’s　an　obsession；’　Parminder　said　bitterly。）

Colin　saw　his　plate　snatched　away　without　regret。　The　nausea　churning　in　his　stomach　was　even　worse　than　when　he　and　Tessa　had　arrived。　He　might　have　been　encased　in　a　thick　glass　bubble；　so　separate　did　he　feel　from　his　three　dining　panions。　It　was　a　sensation　with　which　he　was　only　too　familiar；　that　of　walking　in　a　giant　sphere　of　worry；　enclosed　by　it；　watching　his　own　terrors　roll　by；　obscuring　the　outside　world。

Tessa　was　no　help：　she　was　being　deliberately　cool　and　unsympathetic　about　his　campaign　for　Barry’s　seat。　The　whole　point　of　this　supper　was　so　that　Colin　could　consult　Parminder　on　the　little　leaflets　he　had　produced；　advertising　his　candidacy。　Tessa　was　refusing　to　get　involved；　blocking　discussion　of　the　fear　that　was　slowly　engulfing　him。　She　was　refusing　him　an　outlet。

Trying　to　emulate　her　coolness；　pretending　that　he　was　not；　after　all；　caving　under　self…imposed　pressure；　he　had　not　told　her　about　the　telephone　call　from　the　Yarvil　and　District　Gazette　that　he　had　received　at　school　that　day。　The　journalist　on　the　end　of　the　line　had　wanted　to　talk　about　Krystal　Weedon。

Had　he　touched　her？

Colin　had　told　the　woman　that　the　school　could　not　possibly　discuss　a　pupil　and　that　Krystal　must　be　approached　through　her　parents。

‘I’ve　already　talked　to　Krystal；’　said　the　voice　on　the　end　of　the　line。　‘I　only　wanted　to　get　your—’

But　he　had　put　the　receiver　down；　and　terror　had　blotted　out　everything。

Why　did　they　want　to　talk　about　Krystal？　Why　had　they　called　him？　Had　he　done　something？　Had　he　touched　her？　Had　she　plained？

The　psychologist　had　taught　him　not　to　try　and　confirm　or　disprove　the　content　of　such　thoughts。　He　was　supposed　to　acknowledge　their　existence；　then　carry　on　as　normal；　but　it　was　like　trying　not　to　scratch　the　worst　itch　you　had　ever　known。　The　public　unveiling　of　Simon　Price’s　dirty　secrets　on　the　council　website　had　stunned　him：　the　terror　of　exposure；　which　had　dominated　so　much　of　Colin’s　life；　now　wore　a　face；　its　features　those　of　an　ageing　cherub；　with　a　demonic　brain　seething　beneath　a　deerstalker　on　tight　grey　curls；　behind　bulging　inquisitive　eyes。　He　kept　remembering　Barry’s　tales　of　the　delicatessen　owner’s　formidable　strategic　brain；　and　of　the　intricate　web　of　alliances　that　bound　the　sixteen　members　of　Pagford　Parish　Council。

Colin　had　often　imagined　how　he　would　find　out　that　the　game　was　up：　a　guarded　article　in　the　paper；　faces　turned　away　from　him　when　he　entered　Mollison　and　Lowe’s；　the　headmistress　calling　him　into　her　office　for　a　quiet　word。　He　had　visualized　his　downfall　a　thousand　times：　his　shame　exposed　and　hung　around　his　neck　like　a　leper’s　bell；　so　that　no　concealment　would　be　possible；　ever　again。　He　would　be　sacked。　He　might　end　up　in　prison。

‘Colin；’　Tessa　prompted　quietly；　Vikram　was　offering　him　wine。

She　knew　what　was　going　on　inside　that　big　domed　forehead；　not　the　specifics；　but　the　theme　of　his　anxiety　had　been　constant　for　years。　She　knew　that　Colin　could　not　help　it；　it　was　the　way　he　was　made。　Many　years　before；　she　had　read；　and　recognized　as　true；　the　words　of　W。　B。　Yeats：　‘A　pity　beyond　all　telling　is　hid　at　the　heart　of　love。’　She　had　smiled　over　the　poem；　and　stroked　the　page；　because　she　had　known　both　that　she　loved　Colin；　and　that　passion　formed　a　huge　part　of　her　love。

Sometimes；　though；　her　patience　wore　thin。　Sometimes　she　wanted　a　little　concern　and　reassurance　too。　Colin　had　erupted　into　a　predictable　panic　when　she　had　told　him　that　she　had　received　a　firm　diagnosis　of　Type　2　diabetes；　but　once　she　had　convinced　him　that　she　was　not　in　imminent　danger　of　dying；　she　had　been　taken　aback　by　how　quickly　he　dropped　the　subject；　how　pletely　he　reimmersed　himself　in　his　election　plans。

（That　morning；　at　breakfast；　she　had　tested　her　blood　sugar　with　the　glueter　for　the　first　time；　then　taken　out　the　prefilled　needle　and　inserted　it　into　her　own　belly。　It　had　hurt　much　more　than　when　deft　Parminder　did　it。

Fats　had　seized　his　cereal　bowl　and　swung　round　in　his　chair　away　from　her；　sloshing　milk　over　the　table；　the　sleeve　of　his　school　shirt　and　onto　the　kitchen　floor。　Colin　had　let　out　an　inchoate　shout　of　annoyance　as　Fats　spat　his　mouthful　of　cornflakes　back　into　his　bowl；　and　demanded　of　his　mother；　‘Have　you　got　to　do　that　at　the　bloody　table？’

‘Don’t　be　so　damn　rude　and　disgusting！’　shouted　Colin。　‘Sit　up　properly！　Wipe　up　that　mess！　How　dare　you　speak　to　your　mother　like　that？　Apologize！’

Tessa　withdrew　the　needle　too　fast；　she　had　made　herself　bleed。

‘I’m　sorry　that　you　shooting　up　at　breakfast　makes　me　want　to　puke；　Tess；’　said　Fats　from　under　the　table；　where　he　was　wiping　the　floor　with　a　bit　of　kitchen　roll。

‘Your　mother　isn’t　“shooting　up”；　she’s　got　a　medical　condition！’　shouted　Colin。　‘And　don’t　call　her　“Tess”！’

‘I　know　you　don’t　like　needles；　Stu；’　said　Tessa；　but　her　eyes　were　stinging；　she　had　hurt　herself；　and　felt　shaken　and　angry　with　both　of　them；　feelings　that　were　still　with　her　this　evening。）

Tessa　wondered　why　Parminder　did　not　appreciate　Vikram’s　concern。　Colin　ne