Four Pages

JESS. I AM NO GOOD WITH WORDS SO I HAVE WRITTEN THEM DOWN. IF I TRY TO SAY THEM I WILL STOP HALFWAY AND MAKE A CUP OF TEA. YOU KNOW I WILL. SO READ THIS AND THEN I WILL ANSWER ANYTHING YOU ASK. THAT IS A PROMISE AND I HAVE NOT KEPT MANY.

JESS。我不擅长表达，所以把它们写了下来。如果我试着说出来，我会在半道停下，去泡一杯茶。你知道我会的。所以读读这个吧，之后你问什么我都回答。这是一个承诺，而我信守的承诺并不多。

That was how it began. Jess had read those first lines in the corridor with a kind of weary irritation, the way she read his shopping lists, hearing his voice in every capital letter. Grandad, writing a letter. Grandad, who signed birthday cards with a single W and thought a phone call longer than two minutes was showing off. She had nearly laughed.

事情就是这样开始的。Jess带着一种疲惫的烦躁，在走廊里读完了这最初的几行，就像她平时看他的购物清单一样，在每一个大写字母里都能听到他的声音。Grandad在写信。那个在生日贺卡上只签一个W，觉得通电话超过两分钟就是在摆阔的Grandad。她差点笑出声来。

AFTER YOUR GRANDMOTHER DIED I STARTED TO DRINK. NOT IN THE PUB. AT HOME AT NIGHT AT THE TABLE BEFORE THE BREAD. I KEPT THE BOTTLES BEHIND THE FLOUR. YOUR FATHER KNEW. I KNEW HE KNEW. WE NEVER SAID ONE WORD ABOUT IT. THAT IS HOW WE WERE.

你祖母去世后，我开始酗酒。不是在酒吧。是在家里，在夜里，在做面包前的桌旁。我把酒瓶藏在面粉后面。你父亲知道。我知道他知道。我们对此从未说过一个字。我们以前就是这样。

She had not laughed after that. She had read on, through the night in January, the oven, the cloth, the paper bags on the shelves, and the floor of the corridor had begun very slowly to tilt. I WAS ASLEEP. I WAS DRUNK. I DID NOT WAKE UP WHEN THE KITCHEN WAS ON FIRE. YOUR FATHER DRAGGED ME OUT LIKE A SACK OF FLOUR AND LEFT ME ON THE STEP. THEN HE WENT BACK UPSTAIRS FOR YOU.

在那之后，她便笑不出来了。她继续读下去，读到了那一月里的黑夜、烤箱、布巾、架子上的纸袋，走廊的地面开始极其缓慢地倾斜。我睡着了。我喝醉了。厨房着火的时候我没有醒来。你父亲把我像一袋面粉一样拖了出来，扔在台阶上。然后他折返回楼上去找你。

HE GAVE YOU TO ME ON THE STAIRS AND SAID TAKE HER OUT THE FRONT DAD. SO I CARRIED YOU OUT AND EVERYBODY SAW ME DO IT. THAT IS THE STORY YOU HAVE HEARD ALL YOUR LIFE. IT IS TRUE. IT IS ALSO THE BIGGEST LIE IN HOLLIN BRIDGE AND I AM THE ONE WHO TOLD IT, BY SAYING NOTHING.

他在楼梯上把你交给了我，说，爸，带她去前门外面。于是我抱你出去了，所有人都看见了。这就是你一辈子听到的那个故事。它是真的。但它也是HOLLIN BRIDGE最大的谎言，而我就是那个通过保持沉默说出这个谎言的人。

Somewhere in the second page, Jess had understood what she was reading, and then she had gone on reading anyway, because there was nothing else to do with her eyes. The insurance. The investigator in the grey anorak. Her father in the street, in front of Priya’s shop, telling everyone that it was his fault. Her grandfather in a chair with a blanket round his shoulders, opening his mouth and closing it again.

在第二页的某个地方，Jess明白了自己读到的是什么，随后她还是继续读了下去，因为她的眼睛无处可去。保险金。穿灰色防风衣的调查员。她父亲站在街上，在Priya的店门前，告诉所有人那是他的过错。她的祖父坐在椅子里，肩头围着一条毯子，嘴唇张开又合上。

I LET HIM DO IT JESS. I LET MY SON TAKE MY SHAME ON HIS BACK AND GET ON A TRAIN WITH IT. AND THEN I LET YOU GROW UP THINKING YOUR FATHER WAS A MAN WHO NEARLY BURNED YOU AND RAN AWAY. EVERY TIME SOMEBODY SAID IT IN FRONT OF YOU I KNEW AND I SAID NOTHING. THERE IS NO EXCUSE. I HAVE LOOKED FOR ONE FOR FIFTEEN YEARS.

是我让他这么做的，JESS。我让我儿子背负了我的耻辱，带着它上了火车。然后我让你在成长中以为你的父亲是个差点烧死你又抛下你逃跑的男人。每次有人在你面前提起，我心里都清楚，但我什么都没说。没有任何借口。我找了十五年的借口。

That was the line at which she had looked up and seen him, her father, standing at the window at the end of the corridor with his back to her, shoulders bent, grey in the grey light. A tall tired man in a jumper with a hole in one elbow, who had folded paper bags into squares and kept them in a shoe box, who had left her a song and nothing else. Who had left her a song and, it turned out, everything else as well.

读到这一行时，她抬起头看见了他——她的父亲正站在走廊尽头的窗前，背对着她，肩膀微驼，在灰暗的光线下显得灰蒙蒙的。一个高大疲惫的男人，套头毛衣的一个手肘处破了个洞，曾经把纸袋折成方块收在鞋盒里，留给她的只有一首歌，再无其他。留给她的只有一首歌，而事实证明，那也是其他的一切。