The Corridor

Daniel drove the N7 up the hill to the hospital as if it were an ambulance, which, Ana thought afterwards, it more or less was. He did not stop at a single bus stop. A man in a reflective jacket waved at him from the shelter outside the swimming baths and watched, open-mouthed, as the big green bus thundered past with its interior lights blazing and only two passengers on board.

Daniel开着N7路公交车一路往上山开向医院，开得像辆救护车似的——事后Ana心想，它其实也差不多就是了。他一个公交车站也没停。游泳池外候车亭里一个穿着反光夹克的男人向他招手，目瞪口呆地看着那辆绿色大巴呼啸而过，车厢内灯火通明，而车上却仅仅载着两位乘客。

Jess sat in the front seat with her knees drawn up and her grandfather’s folded pages held flat against her chest, as though someone might try to take them from her. She had not looked at them. She had not said a word since Bridge Street. Ana sat beside her and watched the town slide past in the grey half-light: the market square, the dark town hall, the poster in the newsagent’s window with its green door and its warm square of light. KEEP THE LIGHT ON.

Jess坐在前排座位上，蜷起双膝，将外公折好的那些纸页平贴在胸口，仿佛生怕有人会试图从她手中抢走一样。她一直没有看它们。从Bridge Street出发后，她就一句话也没说。Ana坐在她身边，看着小镇在灰暗的晨光中滑过：集市广场、黑漆漆的市政厅，还有文具店橱窗里的那张海报，带着它绿色的门和那方温暖的方块灯光。KEEP THE LIGHT ON。

At the hospital entrance Daniel opened the doors before the bus had properly stopped. “Go,” he said. “I’ll take the bus back to the depot and come straight here in the car. Phone me. Whatever it is, phone me.” He looked at Jess, and for once there was no joke anywhere in his face. “He’s a tough old man, Jess. The toughest I know.”

在医院门口，车还没完全停稳，Daniel就把车门打开了。“快去，”他说，“我把车开回车库，然后马上开车过来。给我打电话。不管发生什么，都给我打电话。”他看着Jess，脸上一反常态地全无笑意。“他是个硬朗的老头子，Jess。是我认识的人里最硬朗的。”