三号

三号

Number Three

“我……我想问问那份工作，”安娜说。连她自己都觉得，自己的声音显得单薄而迟疑。“就是你在咖啡馆里提到的那份。如果还在招人的话。”

“I… I wanted to ask about the job,” Ana said. Her voice sounded thin and unsure, even to herself. “The one you mentioned in the café. If it’s still available.”

“当然还在招。”海伦听起来挺高兴，但并不意外，就好像安娜只是准时到了而已。“今天下午你能来见我吗？三点整，在Bridge Street三号。要是你能亲眼看看我们的规划，我觉得解释起来会更容易一些。”她停顿了一下。“我会让人开好暖气。那些老房子冷得很。”

“Of course it is.” Helen sounded pleased but not surprised, as if Ana had simply arrived at the time she had been expected. “Can you meet me this afternoon? Three o’clock, at number three Bridge Street. I think it would be easier to explain if you could see what we’re planning.” She paused. “I’ll make sure the heating is on. Those old houses are freezing.”

Bridge Street三号。就在那家面包店的正对面，离Shah’s只有三家门面。通完电话后，安娜闭上了眼睛。世界上有那么多地方，海伦偏偏挑了这一个——在这里，所有她想要避开的人，都能看着她走进去。

Number three, Bridge Street. Directly across the road from the bakery, three doors up from Shah’s. Ana closed her eyes after the call. Of all the places in the world, Helen had chosen the one where everybody she was trying to avoid could watch her walk in.

安娜告诉丹尼尔时，他正在烤面包。他停下手里的动作，抹黄油的刀悬在半空。“三号？你要去敌人的城堡，还是大白天，就在面包店对面？”接着他看清了她的脸色，便放下了刀。“对不起，玩笑开得不合时宜。安娜，你得吃饭，而且不管住在哪里都得付房租。听一听工作机会，这镇上没人有资格指责你。连普里娅也没有。”

Daniel was making toast when she told him. He stopped with the butter knife in the air. “Number three? You’re going to the enemy’s castle, in broad daylight, opposite the bakery?” Then he saw her face and put the knife down. “Sorry. Bad joke. You have to eat, Ana, and you have to pay rent somewhere. Nobody in this town has the right to judge you for listening to a job offer. Not even Priya.”

“普里娅无论如何都会怪我的，”安娜说。

“Priya will judge me anyway,” Ana said.

“很可能会，”丹尼尔承认道。“但她一边怪你，一边还是会给你好吃的。这种责怪，我完全能接受。”

“Probably,” Daniel agreed. “But she’ll feed you while she does it. That’s the kind of judging I can live with.”

但她还是去了。差五分三点的时候，她走在Bridge Street上，兜帽拉得低低的，眼睛盯着人行道，就像一个重返现场的罪犯。她没有看面包店的那扇绿门。她也没有看普里娅的窗户，尽管她能感觉到普里娅正在看着自己。她敲了敲三号的门，门立刻就开了。

She went anyway. She walked down Bridge Street at five to three with her hood up and her eyes on the pavement, like a criminal returning to the scene. She did not look at the green door of the bakery. She did not look at Priya’s window, although she could feel Priya looking at her. She knocked on the door of number three, and it opened at once.

屋子里空空荡荡，闻起来有一股新油漆和旧石头的味道。哈里森一家的家具搬走了，墙壁光秃秃的，只留下曾经挂画的一块块浅色方印。海伦把前屋改成了一间简易办公室。那里放着一张摆满图纸的长桌，两台发出橙红色光芒的取暖器，还有一台看起来比丹尼尔的车还要昂贵的咖啡机。

Inside, the house was empty and smelled of fresh paint and old stone. The Harrisons’ furniture had gone, and the walls were bare except for pale squares where pictures had once hung. Helen had turned the front room into a kind of office. There was a long table covered with drawings, two heaters glowing orange, and a coffee machine that looked more expensive than Daniel’s car.

长桌中央放着一个Bridge Street的模型，是用白卡纸和透明塑料做的。安娜一眼就认出了这条街的轮廓：通往河边的斜坡，还有坡底的那座老石桥。但两旁的房屋不一样了。在如今三号、五号和七号所在的位置，立着一座带大窗户和屋顶花园的长条形精致建筑。

In the middle of the table stood a model of Bridge Street, made of white card and clear plastic. Ana recognised the shape of the street at once: the slope down to the river, the old stone bridge at the bottom. But the houses were different. Where numbers three, five and seven now stood, there was one long, elegant building with large windows and a roof garden.

在一楼临河的一侧，有一家摆着精致白色小桌椅的咖啡馆，上面还有一个用整条塑料做成的招牌：BAKERY。安娜看了很久。那个位置，正是现在沃尔特的烤炉所在的地方。也是迈克尔七岁时站在椅子上学做面包的地方。

On the ground floor, facing the river, there was a café with tiny white chairs and tables, and a sign made of a single strip of plastic: BAKERY. Ana looked at it for a long time. It was where Walter’s oven stood now. It was where Michael had learned to bake, standing on a chair at seven years old.

“一共二十二套公寓，”海伦端着两杯咖啡走到她身边说。“主要是给年轻夫妇和家庭住的。去利兹和哈罗盖特通勤的上班族，还有居家办公的人。这三十年来一直在离开这个镇子的人。楼下还有一家咖啡烘焙店，从早上七点开到晚上七点，这才是这样一个镇子真正需要的东西。”

“Twenty-two flats,” Helen said, coming to stand beside her with two cups of coffee. “Mostly for young couples and families. Commuters to Leeds and Harrogate, people who work from home. The kind of people who have been leaving this town for thirty years. And a café-bakery downstairs, open from seven until seven, which is what a town like this actually needs.”

“这里已经有一家面包店了，”安娜说。她本不想这么说的，但话还是脱口而出了。

“It already has a bakery,” Ana said. She had not meant to say it, but it came out anyway.

海伦似乎并没有生气。“这里确实有一家面包店，为了赶夜班公交车在四点五十开门，一点就关门，还是由一个病得很重的老人经营的，他的欠款已经拖欠了十五年。”她说得很温和，没有半点幸灾乐祸。“安娜，我不是这个故事里的反派，不管普里娅·沙阿隔着柜台跟别人怎么说。坐下吧。让我告诉你我为什么要这么做。”

Helen did not seem offended. “It has a bakery that opens at ten to five for a night bus and closes at one, run by a very sick old man who is fifteen years behind with his payments.” She said it gently, without any pleasure. “I’m not the villain of this story, Ana, whatever Priya Shah tells people across her counter. Sit down. Let me tell you why I’m doing this.”