最后一晚

最后一晚

The Last Night

Priya一言不发地让到一旁，Jess浑身滴着水走上楼来。她脱下湿漉漉的外套，环视着这个小厨房：写满名字的笔记本、放着Daniel勺子的空碗，还有显然已经坐着谈了几个小时的两个女人。然后她看着Ana。那不是友善的目光，但也不冷淡。那是一个决定把事情先搁置一下的人的眼神。

Priya stood aside without a word, and Jess came up the stairs, dripping. She took off her wet coat and looked round the little kitchen: at the notebook full of names, the empty bowl with Daniel’s spoon in it, the two women who had obviously been sitting up talking for hours. Then she looked at Ana. It was not a friendly look. But it was not a cold one either. It was the look of someone who had decided to put something aside for later.

“告诉我吧，”她说，“你们计划的一切。别叫我去问别人。”

“Tell me,” she said. “Everything you’re planning. And don’t tell me to ask somebody else.”

于是，正如Ana答应过的那样，她们坦诚地告诉了她。三周后的规划委员会会议。居民们可以提出的反对意见。Daniel的社区股份，还有Priya列出的家庭名单。Jess两肘撑在桌上，认真听着，并提出了尖锐而实际的问题。面包房如果还作为面包房，能值多少钱？谁来经营？她祖父的债务怎么办？

So they told her, in the open, as Ana had promised. The planning committee in three weeks. The objections that residents could send. Daniel’s community shares, and Priya’s list of families. Jess listened carefully, with her elbows on the table, and asked sharp, practical questions. How much would the bakery be worth as a bakery? Who would run it? What happened to her grandfather’s debt?

然后，在最后，她问了Ana一直在等待的问题。“为什么镇上的人怎么看我父亲会有关系？Priya，你说除非他们知道真相，否则他们不会为Bell’s而战。什么真相？”

Then, at the end, she asked the question Ana had been waiting for. “Why does it matter what the town thinks about my father? Priya, you said they won’t fight for Bell’s unless they know the truth. What truth?”

Priya看着Ana。Ana也看着她。厨房里一时非常安静。然后Priya伸过桌去，用双手握住Jess的手，就像火灾那一晚她抱还是婴儿的Jess那样。

Priya looked at Ana. Ana looked back. For a moment the kitchen was very quiet. Then Priya reached across the table and took Jess’s hand in both of hers, the way she must have held her as a baby on the night of the fire.

“那一部分不该由我们来说，亲爱的，”她温柔地说，“我知道你听厌了这些话。我知道这不公平。但我向你保证，这不再是秘密了。只是在等合适的人说出来。你祖父已经保证过了，他会在周五之前告诉你。你愿意等到那时候吗？”

“That part isn’t ours to tell, my dear,” she said gently. “I know you’re tired of hearing it. I know it isn’t fair. But it isn’t a secret any more, I promise you that. It’s just waiting for the right person to say it. And your grandfather has promised that he will say it to you before Friday. Will you give him until then?”

Jess看了她们紧握的手很久。然后她点了一下头。“等到周五，”她说，“一天也不多等。”她把笔记本拉向自己。“好。你们需要什么？我会画画。我能做海报。而且我学校里的每个人都有父母。”

Jess looked at their joined hands for a long time. Then she nodded, once. “Until Friday,” she said. “Not one day longer.” She pulled the notebook towards her. “Fine. What do you need? I can draw. I can make posters. And everyone at my school has parents.”

接下来的六天是Ana在Hollin Bridge经历过的最忙的日子。她夜里bake面包，下午睡四个小时，剩下的每一分钟都和Priya、Daniel以及Jess待在一起。Priya带着她的笔记本走访了Bridge Street的每家每户，以及它后面的大部分房子。Daniel在公交车厂印了传单，在N7 bus的每个座位上都留下了一叠。

The next six days were the busiest Ana had ever known in Hollin Bridge. She baked at night, slept for four hours in the afternoon, and spent every other minute with Priya, Daniel and Jess. Priya visited every house on Bridge Street with her notebook, and most of the houses behind it. Daniel printed leaflets at the bus depot and left a pile on every seat of the N7.

Jess在Priya公寓的厨房餐桌前花了一个晚上画了一张海报。上面画着面包房夜里的门面、绿色的门、窗里的温光，以及站在门前的一个高大男子和小女孩的身影。在下面，她用建筑师般工整的字体写道：点亮灯火。留住BELL’S。到了周三，它已经出现在集市广场上每家店铺的橱窗里。

Jess drew a poster in one evening at the kitchen table in Priya’s flat. It showed the front of the bakery at night, the green door, the warm light in the window, and the shape of a tall man and a small girl standing in front of it. Underneath, in her neat architect’s letters, she wrote: KEEP THE LIGHT ON. SAVE BELL’S. By Wednesday it was in the window of every shop on the market square.

并不是每个人都同意她们。有些人说新公寓会带来年轻家庭和资金，一家老店不值得去争取。五金店的老板告诉Priya，她是在阻碍进步。Helen Fenwick用厚厚的米色信纸给Bridge Street上的每户人家发了一封礼貌的信，描述了她的建筑将带来的咖啡馆、屋顶花园和工作机会。

Not everybody agreed with them. Some people said that new flats would bring young families and money, and that an old bakery was not worth fighting for. The man who owned the hardware shop told Priya that she was standing in the way of progress. Helen Fenwick sent a polite letter to every house on Bridge Street, on thick cream paper, describing the café, the roof garden and the jobs her building would bring.

但到了周三晚上，Priya的笔记本上已经有了四十三个人名，大部分名字旁边都写着认捐的金额。Ward一家出了五十镑。夜班公交车上的护士出了两百镑。镇长出了一千镑，他说自己不能被看到正式提出反对，但当然可以入股买好面包。还有住在运河边的Maureen，用果酱罐装了二十镑硬币送来。

But by Wednesday evening, Priya’s notebook had forty-three names in it, and promises of money next to most of them. Fifty pounds from the Wards. Two hundred from the nurse on the night bus. A thousand from the mayor, who said he could not be seen to object officially but could certainly buy shares in a good loaf. And twenty pounds from Maureen on the canal, in coins, in a jam jar.

Walter周二看到了那些海报。他去医院散步回来，在街角报刊亭的橱窗前停下脚步，在那儿站了很久，看着画着他自己家绿门的海报。当他走进厨房时，脸都红了。“我没求任何人来救我，”他说。

Walter saw the posters on Tuesday. He came back from his walk to the hospital, stopped in front of the shop window of the newsagent’s on the corner, and stood there for a long time looking at the drawing of his own green door. When he came into the kitchen, his face was red. “I didn’t ask anybody to save me,” he said.

“没人是在救你，”Ana说，“他们是在救面包房。这不是一回事。”她没有告诉他那张海报是Jess画的。他知道。她能看出他心知肚明，而且他不知道该如何面对。

“Nobody is saving you,” Ana said. “They’re saving the bakery. It isn’t the same thing.” She did not tell him that Jess had drawn the poster. He knew. She could see that he knew, and that he did not know what to do with it.