英语短篇小说 A Tray of Ice Cubes

第第页英语短篇小说ATrayofIceCubes英语读物

ATrayofIceCubes

DaphneandColinwerespendingFridayeveningastheyspentmostFridayevenings–infrontofthetellywithamicrowaveddinnerandabottleofsweetGermanwine,watchingtheirfavouriteprogramme;acamcordercompilationofmatrimonialmishapsandwedding-daydisasterscalledTheWorldsWorstWeddings.

Eachprogrammetreateditsviewerstoaparadeofdoomedbridestumblingdownchurchsteps,orskiddingbackwardsandlandinglegs-in-the-airondancefloors.

Beautifullycrafted,four-tieredweddingcakestoppledslowlysidewayslikePisantowersandthencollapsedintorubblyheapsoficing.Horsesboltedwiththeiremptylandausfromthechurchgates.Theweatheroutsidethechurcheswasalwaysturbulent,liftingthebridesdressesupovertheirheadstorevealsaucybridallingerie,orwhippingthetophatsofftheheadsofthemenwhochasedthemthroughchurchyardslikefarmersaftertroupesofgreyhens.

Thisanthologyofcrookedlyshot,poorlyfocusedvisionsofminorcatastropheshadDaphneandColininstitches.Theylaugheduntiltheyhurt.Theywincedatpainfulbits(drunkensword-dancing,marqueesbulgingwithstoredrain),drewintheirbreath,gaveeachothermock-horrifiedlooks,groaned,giggled,shooktheirheadspityinglyandputtheirhandsovertheirmouths.

Bytheendoftheprogramme,asthecreditsrolledquicklyoverarepriseofthechoicestclips,ColinandDaphnefelte*hausted.Theirjawsachedandtheirvoiceswerehoarse.Butatthesametimetheyfeltrefreshedandreassuredbythesensetheyhadthatotherpeoplesliveswereatrainofsmallcalamities,andthatwhiletheirownlivesmightnotbeeverythingtheydwishedfor,atleasttheywereorderedhavensofstaticobjectsandcommonsensepeople.TheWorldsWorstWeddingsrenewedforthemeachweek

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theirsenseoftheirownworthaspeoplewhilefortifyingthemfortheroutinestrugglesoftheweekahead.

DaphnewasmanageroftheErithbranchofBurgerWorldwhereshesupervisedacrewoftwentysurlyteenagersandtwoshiftmanagers.Shecouldhandle(thoughrarelyneededto)onehundredandfiftycustomersanhour.Shewasagoodbranchmanager.Shehad,inthewordsofDale,herareae*ecutive,ketchupinherblood.Shewasblonde,wide,bu*omandclever.Shewasforty-seven.

Colinhercoeval,childhoodsweetheartandhusbandofthirtyyearswasabusdriver.Hehadpower-steeredreddouble-deckersfromTrafalgarSquarethroughthesuburbsofSouthEastLondonforalmostaslongastheydbeenmarried.IntheearlydayshehadsataloneintheforwardcabofaRoutemaster,obeyingthebells,buzzersandknocksofhisconductor.Then,atthebeginningoftheSeventies,hewasaskedtomergetwopeopleintohisonebodyandbecomebothdriverandconductorofthenewpay-as-you-enterbuses.Ithadbeendifficultatfirst,andhefeltbadabouttheconductorswholosttheirjobs,buthemanagedthetransitionwithsomepanache.HehastwicebeenafinalistintheSouthEastBusDriveroftheYearAwards.Hegenuinelycaredabouthishumancargo.Hetookcornerscarefully.Whenhestoppedhestoppedgentlyandhispassengersallnoddedinunison.Hissedentarylifeandfondnessfortheoddpinthadgivenhimaroly-polyfigureandathickeningoffataroundtheneck.Hishairwasdarkbutthinningontop,combedbackandoutofthewaybehindhisears,halfaninchshortofunkempt.Histeethweresharp,symmetrical,stainedwithcigartobacco.

Hewasstretchedoutonthecouch,stillinhisbusdrivers”uniformwhich,withitswine-colouredblazerandstripedtie,madehimlooklikearidiculousschoolboy.ThisaddedtotheshockDaphnefeltwhenheturnedhisbrick-redface,stilldampwithlaughing,towardsherandsaid,inavoicequietwithe*citement,

“Love,IthinkImpregnant.”

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Daphnewasbusywithtomatoes,slicingtheminamachinecalledatomatoshark.

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India,oneofhershiftmanagers,waspreparingburgercartons.TherewasalullintradeatBurgerWorld,asthereusuallywasmid-afternoon.Indiahatedtheselullsastheymadethetimedrag,althoughshefoundasimplesatisfactioninthecleverorigamiofherburgercartons.Aflatcardenvelopeise*tractedfromthepacketwhich,withadefttwistofthethumbs,flipsintoathree-dimensionalbo*withhingedlid,catchandsteamvents.

OfallthecrewIndiawasclosesttoDaphne.Theydidnotmeetoutsidethe

workplace(apartfromtheChristmasdo)butinBurgerWorldtheyregardedeachotherasfriends.IndialikedDaphnesboldness,hersturdiness.Sheadmiredher.ShethoughtifDaphnewasabuildingshewouldbeaprovincialtownhall–solid,sensible,yetnotwithoutornamentationandhumour.Indiawouldbeoneofthoselittlestripedtentsworkmenerectovermanholes.SoshereactedatfirstwithdisbeliefandbewildermentwhenshenoticedDaphnewascrying.

Sheleftherteeteringtowerofyet-to-be-filledcartonsandwalkedhesitantly

towardsDaphneasiftoastatuethathadmoved.Closershecouldseeitwastrue–

Daphne,goodoldblonde-haired,piss-taking,dependableDaphnewascrying.Thewaterwasspillingoutofhereyes,fallingofftheendofhernoseandsaltinghertomatoes.

“Areyoucrying,Daph?”Indiauselesslyasked.

Daphne,whoseheadwashanging,suddenlydrewherfaceback,asiftomakethetearswithdrawintohereyes.Itwasasthoughshehadntknownshewascrying.Shefumbledinherpocketforahanky,couldntfindone.Indiagaveheraserviette.

“Stupid,”saidDaphne,holdingthepapertohereyeslikeablindfold,stillwithherotherhandontheleverofthetomatoshark.

“AnythingIcando?”SaidIndia.

Daphnetookadeepbreath,helditforwhatseemedlikeadangerouslengthoftime,thene*haledloudly.Shetookthepaperawayfromhereyes,lookedatIndiawithahalfsmilethatwasmeanttosayImfinenow,thencollapsedintouncontrollablesobs.Someoftheotherstaffnoticed.Baseball-cappedheadspeeredroundthesidesofbroilers,orbeneathfrierhoods.IndiatookholdofDaphnesshakingframe(thefirsttime,sherealised,thatshedtouchedhermanager)andguidedherintothecrampedspaceoftelephones,files,listsandmemosthatservedasanoffice.

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“WhatsupDaph?Whatsgoingon?”

“Icantsay.Nothing.Sodit.”

“Dontyouthinkyoushouldtalkaboutit?”

Daphnegaveachokedlaugh.

“Iwouldntknowwheretobegin.”

“Trythebeginning.”

Daphnecompressedherlips,shookherheadsoslightlyitwasliketrembling.“Isityouroldman?IstheresomethingwrongwithColin?”

Thiswasaneducatedguess.ColinshealthwasaregulartopicofconversationbetweenDaphneandIndia-hislatestdigestiveproblemorheartattackscare,his

creepingarthritis,evenhisoccasionallackoflibido.IndiahadnevermetColinbutshethoughtshemustknowmoreabouthisbodythanhisowndoctor.

IndiacouldtellbyDaphnesstillnessthatshedhitthemark.

“Whatisit?Isheill?”

“Itsoundssostupid,Indialove.Idontknowhowtosayit.Ihaventtoldanyone,notevenmyMum.”

“Youcantellme.”

“WellIvegottotellsomeone…”Daphnewaswhisperingnow,eventhough

therewasnoonewithinearshot,“…afewmonthsago–aboutsi*monthsago–Colingotthisideaintohishead–Imeanhereallybelievesit,thathes…”

“Yes?”Indiaseyeswereroundande*pectant.

“Hethinkshespregnant.”

Silence.

ThenIndialetoutagiggle,quicklyputherhandtohermouthasiftocatchit,butshecarriedongigglingintoherhand,muffled.

“DontIndia,pleaselove.”

“Imsorry,butthishasgottobeajoke,yeah?”

“ThatswhatIthoughtatfirst.Ajoke.Asickjoke.Wegaveuptryingtohavekidstenyearsago.Ivetoldyouallaboutthat.Thereisntadaygoesby,evennow,whenIdontthinkaboutthekidswecouldhavehadifthingshadworkedout.Icouldhavebeenagranbynow.ButIthoughtColinhadforgottenallaboutit.Youknowhenever

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wasthatbothered,notreally,evenwhenweweregoinguptothecliniceveryweek.Hewasdoingitformereally.Butnowitlookslikesomethingsgottohim…Hesstartedconvertingourspareroombackintoanursery.Wehaditasanurserywhenweweregoingforthetreatment.Justhopingwecouldputababyinit.Justtohavethechancetomuckaroundwithbabythings.Whenwefinallycalleditadayweguttedtheroom.Itbrokemyheart.Wedidntthrowanythingaway,itwasfunny,butsuddenlyeveryoneweknewneededbabystuff.Mostofitwenttomysister–theclothes,thecot,themajorityofthetoys.WepaintedovertheTiggerswithoatmeal,thenIusedtheroomformychinapainting.Youknowmeandmychina.Wenevermissacraftfair.Ihadalittlekilninthereandeverything.ButnowhesgoneandpaintednewTiggersonthewalls.Hessplashedoutonaposhcotwithbrassbitson.Hesayswehavetohaveeverythingreadyintime.ItsdueinNovember.”

“Daphne,youvegottogethimtoadoctor.Gethisheadsortedout…”

“Iknow.Thetroubleis,ineveryotherwayhescompletelynormal,youknow,soColinish,sobloodyboringlyColinish.Hesstilldrivinghisbuses,thoughhereckonshewontfitbehindthewheelformuchlonger.Hesgivenupthepipeandcigars.Hedoesntevenhaveadrinknow.Hesayshesgottotakecareofhimself.ButwhatreallyfrightensmeisthatImstartingtobelievehim.ItslikeImgoingmadaswell.Ifindmyselflookingathisbeerguttoseeifitsgettingbigger…”

“Andisit?”

Daphneallowedherselfabrief,sneezylaugh.

“Ikeepthinkingitisgettingbigger.Andhesoffthebeer.WhenhesasleepIputmyhandonitandfeelformovements.MaybeIdofeelsomethingkick,orisitjusta

bubbleofwind?ThenIlllistenforaheartbeat.Icanhearsomething,butisitjustColinsheart.Idontknow…”

“ButDaph,youvegottoholdontothetruefacts.Youvegottorememberhecantbepregnant.”

“Butwhynot?”DaphnesvoicehadacquiredahaughtinessthatwasnewtoIndia.Indiatriedtomatchthetone,

“Hesablokeisnthe?”

Daphneclosedhereyesdismissively.

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“Colinspunmethislongstoryabouthowhewenttoaclinicwheretheyretestingoutanewtypeoffertilitytreatment,whichmeansthemancarryingtheembryoinsteadofthewoman.”

Indiaisdismissivenow.

“Itstrue,”Daphnecontinued,“Ivereadupaboutit.Therearepeopledoingworkonitrightnow.Theysaytheydontneedanywombs,justaplaceinthebodywithagoodbloodsupply.Theyveplantedfertilisedeggsontheouterwallofthelargeintestineofamalemouseanditsgoneontogivebirth.IknowtheyneedoneofmyeggsbutColinsaystheykeptsomefromwhenweweregoingforthetreatment.Hereckonstheyvegotawholedishofthemupthere.IknowitsrubbishbutIcanthelpthinkingsometimes.AndthenIlookatthathugetummyofhisanditmoves…”

“Daphne,Idontwanttoknow.Ofcoursehehasntbeentoanyclinic.Hes

flippedhislid.Hesgottothatage,allmengettoit.”

Daphnelaughedinwardlyattheconfidencewithwhicheighteen-year-oldIndiatalkedaboutmen.

“Histomatoeshavegonetopot.Thewholecrop.Everyyearhegrowsthese

wonderfultomatoes.Theyvegotthebestspotinthegarden,sunnyalldaylong.Heevengoesdownthestableswithashovelsohecanmulchthehorseshitintothem.TheyrereadybylateAugust.Well,thisyearhesjustleftthem.HedlostinterestbyJune.TheywerestillgreeninAugust.Hesayshesgonerightofftomatoesnow,becauseofhiscondition.Weusedtohavesuchlovelysalads,”Daphnelookedacrossatthebowlofheapedtomatoslices,likeopenedhearts.“Ihadtopickthemmyself.Stillgreen.Hewasntgoingtobother.Iputtheminbrownpaperbagsandkeptthemunderthestairs.Theyreonlyjustbeginningtogoyellownow.Hehascravingsforpotatoes.”

Indiadidntknowwhattosay.Shenoticedaposteronthebackofthedoorwhichremindedstaffoftheimportanceofadd-ons,andprovidedascriptwhichspecifiedthee*actphrasingtobeused.Ifacustomerwantsahamburger,staffmustsaywouldyoulikefrieswiththat?Ifacustomerwantsahamburgerwithfries,staffmustsaywouldyoulikeadrinkwiththat?BurgerWorldprovidesstaffwithascriptforalmosteverypossibleinteractionwithacustomer,fromthecheerygreetingstothecheerygoodbyes.Staffaree*pectedtofollowthesescriptstotheletter.Indiafounditveryhelpfulatfirst,

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indealingwithcustomers,tohaveherwordswrittenforherinadvance,butafterawhileshefoundthatitdamagedherabilitytotalkspontaneouslyoutsidetheworkplace.Shewantedscriptsforeverysocialencounter,andhadtoworkhardatrelearningherabilitytoconverse.Now,withDaphne,shelongedagainforguidancefromheadoffice.

“ImoutofmyDepth,Daph.”

“Imalright,Indialove.Getbacktoyourprep.Illsortmyoldmanout

somehow.”

Indiawentbacktoherprep,magickingcartonsoutofnothing.Daphnewentbacktoslicinghertomatoes.Theynever,fortherestoftheirlives,sayanythingtoeachotheronthissubjectagain.

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TheWorldsWorstWeddingsison.Daphneiswatchingitalone.Colinishavingalie-downupstairs.

Daphneisntfindingtheprogrammefunnythisweek.Sheiswatchingitbutthelaughterisntcoming.Thosetopplingweddingcakesjustlooksadnow.Thewindyweddingdays,floodedmarquees,runawaycarriages.Oneclipinparticularmakesherwince–whenagroomfaintsduringtheceremony,fallsintohiswife-to-beandknockshertothefloor.

Butshewatchestheprogrammeanyway,eventhoughshehasntfounditfunnyforweeks.ItisNovembernow.Lastyearthisprogrammesawthemintowinter,tookthemuptoChristmas.ButDaphnewondersifshellwatchitagain.

Coliniswatchingitontheportableupstairs,whichproducesastereophoniceffect.Thelaughterfromtheprogrammeisthusgivenastrangelyhauntingquality,asthoughitisnotcomingfromthetelevision,butfromthehouseitself.

Daphne,astheprogrammefinisheswithacuriousnoteoftriumphalism,barelynoticesthecallcomingfromupstairs.Colinsweakvoicecomesdowntoher

“Daph,love.”

英语读物

“Whatisit?”Shecallsback,slightlyimpatiently.ForthelasttwoweeksColinhasbeenoffworkandhasspentmostofthetimeinbed.

“Canyoucomeup,love?”

Sheleavesitforafewminutes,clearsawayhermostlyuneatenpizza,putsahalf-emptycoffeemugintothesink,wipestheworktopandthengoeswearilyupstairs.Si*monthsofworryinghavee*haustedher.

Shewalksintothebedroom.Colinislyingonhisbackontopofthebedclothes.Hisabdomenlookshugetoher,suddenly,agreatdome,allblubber,sheissure,butithasgrownanywayoverthelastsi*months.Hehasthetvremoteinhishandandisgrippingitsohardhisknucklesarecreamywhite.Theportablesetonthedressingtableisababbleofadvertising.

“Whatsup?”Shewasgoingtosay,butonseeingColinsfacerealises.Heisred,hisbreathisshortandhisfaceisloosewithfear,theeyeshelpless.

“Itsstarting,love.”

Daphnesitsbesidehim.Hiswholebodyseemstoclenchandunclenchlikeafist.Sheputsherhandonhisclammyforehead.

“Takeiteasy,love,”shesays,“Juststaycalm.”

“Ifeelfunnyinmytummy,Daph,”hesays,“Love,Icanfeelitcomingout.I

thinkmywatershavebroken.”

ShenoticesadarkstainonthebedspreadingoutfrombetweenColinslegs.

“Imscared,Daph,allthisstuffscomingout.”

“Dontworry.”

“Canyoustopitcomingout,Love,getatowelorsomething.”

Shegoestothebathroom,returnswithabathtoweltheywerestillpayingthecataloguefor.

“Openyourlegs,Love.”

Heopensthem.Anunpleasantodourrises.Daphnepressesthetowelupagainsthim.

“ShallIgetthedoctor,Colin?”

“No,”hesaysurgently,“No,please.”

“Amidwife?”

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“Ithinkitstoolate,Love.”

Thebediswarmandwet.SuddenlyColinclaspshisswollenbelly,shoutsto

Daphne,

“Itscoming,Daph.Getsomethingtocatchit.Quickly,Love,abucket,

anything.”

Sherushestothebathroomagain.Thereisnothingsuitable.Shehastogo

downstairstothekitchen.Theonlythingshecanfindistheirnon-stickwok.Daphnehasonlyuseditonceinfiveyears.

Colinismoaningwhenshereturns.Sheputsthelipsofthewokupagainsthisperineum.Thin,cloudyliquiddribblesintoit.Thebedroomreeks.Coliniscrying,tearsrunningsidewaysdownhisface,hislipswide,histonguelikeaplumplittlepluminhismouth.

LaterDaphneclearsup.Sheyanksthesheetsoffthebed,pilesthemintothe

alreadyoverloadedwashingbasket,thenwonderswhattodowiththemattress.Colinisdownstairsonthecouchinadressinggown.Shehasgivenhimabathandhesmellsnice.AftershehassortedthebeddingoutDaphnecomesdownstairsintothetvroomandkissesColinonthecrownofthehead,wherehishairisthinnest,takinginthefragranceofhisscalp.

“Howaboutadrink?”Shesays.

Colinthinksforamoment,thennods,almostapologetically.

“Aniceginandtonic?”

Colinnodsagain.

Daphnegoestothekitchen,takesatrayoficecubesoutofthefridge.Adozennuggetsoffrozenwater.Asusualshehastroublee*tractingthem.Shebendsthetrayasmuchasitsmetalwillallow,andthereisatired,creakingsound.Thensomethingsnapsandanicecubepopsoutandclattersontheworktop.Shehastouseaknifetogettherestout,leveringdangerouslyatthechippededgesofeachcube.Theremustbeaneasierwayofmakingice,shethinksasshedividesherfourcubesbetweentwotumblers,splashessomeginandtonicwaterontopofthemandlistenstothewheezesandcracksastheye*pandintothewarmthofthealcohol.

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ShetakesthedrinksintothetvroomandsitswithColinfortherestofthe

evening,thentheygotobed.Daphneleavesthetrayoficecubesoutontheworktop.Sheforgetstoputthembackinthefridge.

Inthemorning,whenshecomesdownin