The Window

The humming stopped. The canal was quiet again, except for the ducks and a radio on one of the other boats. Jess was still staring at the Second Chance, at its dark green side and its small curtained windows. Her knuckles were white on the sketchbook.

哼唱声停了。除了鸭子的叫声和另一条船上的收音机声，运河又安静了下来。杰丝还在盯着“第二次机会号”，看着它墨绿色的船身和挂着小窗帘的窗户。她紧握着速写本，手指关节都发白了。

“Did you hear that?” she whispered. “That song. What is it? Do you know it?”

“你听到了吗？”她低声问，“那首歌。是什么歌？你认识吗？”

Ana thought very carefully before she answered. She had promised herself that she would not lie to a direct question. “I don’t know what it’s called,” she said slowly. It was true. She had never heard its name. “It sounded old.”

安娜仔细想了想才回答。她对自己保证过，绝不对直接的提问说谎。“我不知道它叫什么名字，”她慢慢地说。这是实话。她从没听过歌名。“听起来很老。”

“It’s the song,” Jess said. “The one I told you about on the train. About a boat and a light on the water. Somebody sang it to me when I was little.” She shook her head hard, as if she wanted to get something out of it. “It’s probably just an old song. Lots of old people know old songs. Grandma Mary sang it in the shop. Half the town probably knows it.”

“就是那首歌，”杰丝说，“我在火车上跟你说过的那首。关于一条船和水上的亮光。我小的时候有人给我唱过。”她用力摇了摇头，好像想把什么东西从脑子里甩出去。“可能只是一首老歌吧。很多老人都会唱老歌。玛丽奶奶以前在店里唱过。镇上一半的人可能都知道。”

“Probably,” Ana said. That word was not quite a lie. But it was not quite the truth either, and she hated how easily it came out.

“可能吧，”安娜说。这个词不算完全的谎言。但也不完全是真话，她讨厌自己这么容易就说了出来。

They walked home in silence. Jess did not talk about her drawings any more, or about the leaning bridge. She walked fast, with her headphones on and no music playing, and twice she turned round to look back along the path towards the canal. At home she went straight upstairs. She did not come down for dinner.

她们一路沉默着走回家。杰丝不再谈论她的画，也不再谈论那座歪斜的桥。她走得很快，戴着耳机却没有放音乐，还两次转过身，回头看着通往运河的小路。回到家，她直接上了楼。晚饭也没有下来吃。

Walter noticed. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Ana, while she was making tea. “Is she still angry with me about the letter?”

沃尔特注意到了。“她怎么了？”安娜泡茶的时候，他问她，“她还在因为信的事生我的气吗？”

“Maybe,” Ana said. “She’s tired. She drew for three hours.” She took him his tea. Her hands were shaking a little, and she was glad that he could not see them clearly without his glasses.

“也许吧，”安娜说，“她累了。她画了三个小时。”她把茶端给他。她的手微微发抖，幸好他没戴眼镜，看不太清楚。

The next day was Sunday. In the afternoon Ana went across to Shah’s for milk. Jess was already there, standing at the counter with a packet of biscuits she was not buying. She was talking to Priya in a low voice. When the bell over the door rang, they both looked up.

第二天是星期天。下午，安娜过街去沙阿杂货店买牛奶。杰丝已经在那里了，站在柜台前，手里拿着一包并不打算买的饼干。她正低声和普丽亚说话。门上的铃铛响了，两人都抬起头来。

“Ana, you can help,” Jess said. “I’m asking Priya about Grandma Mary’s song. The slow one, about the boat. Priya knew Grandma for years. She must know what it’s called.” She turned back to Priya. “It goes like this.” And quietly, in the empty shop, Jess sang the first two lines.

“安娜，你能帮个忙，”杰丝说，“我正在问普丽亚关于玛丽奶奶的那首歌。那首节奏很慢的、关于船的歌。普丽亚认识奶奶很多年了。她一定知道歌名。”她又转向普丽亚。“是这样唱的。”然后，在空荡荡的店里，杰丝轻轻地唱出了前两句。

Ana watched Priya’s face. For a moment Priya did not move at all. Then all the colour went out of her cheeks, as if a light inside her went out. Her hand went to the pen behind her ear and stayed there.

安娜看着普丽亚的脸。有那么一会儿，普丽亚一动不动。接着，她脸上的血色全退了，仿佛心里的光熄灭了。她的手摸向耳朵后面的笔，停在那里不动了。