按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
with family discord。
'Enjoy your trip up to our place today？' Richard sneered。
Coyle paused； his fork halfway to his mouth。 The omission of 'Dad' made the question seem all the more insolent。
'It was just business；' he replied slowly； and filled his mouth with curry。
'Maybe you'll get your facts right in this week's article。' Richard cleaned his plate with a chunk of bread； but did not raise his eyes。 'Or are you going to invent some more crazy legends？'
'The town now has its very own ic paper；' Sarah added。 'Why can't we have it all in cartoon…strip form； Dad？ Something like the Beano or Dandy。 Or maybe even a science…fiction thriller…you know； Dennis Wheatley style。 〃Balzur will e again to take vengeance on the offspring of those who burned him at the stake〃。'
Both of them laughed sarcastically。 Only Jane's face was grave。
'I think the whole subject is better not discussed at the table；' she rapped。 'Your father's work is his own concern； and we shouldn't be talking shop at meal…times。'
'Shop！' Richard scraped his chair back。 'Dad's the laughing stock of our place。 The trouble is he's a bad joke。 Anyway； I'm going out。 I can't stop here with this drivellish conversation。'
'Don't you think you should change your clothes before you go out？' Jane asked nervously； trying to exert her declining authority in the household。
Richard did not reply。 Nor did he look at either of his parents as he opened the door； then slammed it behind him。 Seconds later they heard the roar of his motor…cycle。
Sarah left the table and went upstairs。 She came down a few minutes later wearing a three quarter…length coat which matched her trouser…suit。 Her cheeks were flushed。 Embarrassment and guilt； Coyle decided。 She was fully aware that her father knew she was going back into town to get herself screwed。 This father…daughter blackmail pact was being unnerving for both of them。
As Jane began to clear the dishes away； Bob lit a cigarette。 She was drying the first of the dishes before she spoke。
'It's plain enough what your children think of you； isn't it？ The laughing…stock of the nuclear station； the newspaperman attempting to create sensationalism at pulp literature level。 So you've been up there today； have you？ Aware yet that your imagination has been running riot？'
'No。' He tilted his chair backwards。 'In fact I've convinced myself that we're sitting right on top of the most devilish bomb ever conceived by mankind…one that could blow us to hell without warning。'
'They're distributing circulars in town。 Petition forms。 Scruffy youths handing them out in the streets。 I see they're printed and distributed by the Herald。 You're going too far； Bob。 The whole thing has been fully explained on television and in the newspapers； and you're deliberately setting yourself up against the greatest scientists； technologists； and politicians in the world； waging a one…man war against this place you call 〃Holocaust〃。 People are looking at me in the streets。 My friends are sniggering behind my back。 I can't stand it any longer！ And all that nonsense you wrote about Pluto has made a mockery of the whole thing…yourself particularly。'
Coyle remained silent； and lit another cigarette。 Already he had presented his own arguments too many times in these last few weeks。 And if his own wife would not support him； there was no point in going all over that same ground again。 He was only glad he had Anne。
Neither of them spoke again until they adjourned to the next room。 Usually Jane switched on the television； and Coyle hoped she would do that now。 Instead she flung herself into an armchair； as if exhausted。 That meant that there was a discussion in the offing。 An argument。 He sighed； and braced himself。
'Bob； there's something else I want to talk to you about。'
Her words jarred him。 He felt his stomach muscles contracting。 Always the unexpected…that was typical of a woman。 Maybe Sarah had told on him； a sort of twisted revenge for all that he had printed about her employers。
'It's about Richard。'
Coyle tried not to show his relief too visibly。
'What about him？'
'He's seeing a girl。 I don't know her first name； but Mrs Bean told me about her。 The family live not far from here。
Lakin's her name。 Oh； Bob； she's a 。 。 。 she's a prostitute！' 'Nonsense。' He didn't make it sound very convincing。
'It's true。 Mrs Bean is no gossip。 She's been worrying herself stiff for a fortnight； wondering whether or not to tell me。 Bob； what are we going to do？ It's your responsibility。 You must talk to him； man to man。'
Suddenly Coyle felt very angry。 Always confrontations。 Did nobody ever get anywhere in this life without direct conflict？
'Richard's old enough to look after himself。 Every man has to gain experience somewhere。 That's just what he's doing now。'
'But she's a prostitute！'
'It's only hearsay； vicious gossip。'
'Mrs Bean isn't a gossip。'
'Well； maybe she's mistaken。 Anyway he hasn't announced his engagement to this whore； has he？'
'But 。 。 。 ' Jane blushed deeply。 'He'll be 。。。 having relationships with her。'
'You mean he's fucking her。' Bob threw every vestige of cruelty he could muster into those words。 Never before had he used a four…letter word in front of his wife。 Well； it was his intention to shock her。
'You 。 。 。 you what？'
'I said he's fucking her。 And apart from the social stigma involved； your main concern is that he might get a dose of the clap。'
Jane sank back into her chair； horrified； speechless。
'Then 。 。 。 you're not going to do anything about it；' she murmured； her face white。
'There's nothing I can do。 He'll have to find out all about it for himself。'
He wished she would switch on the television。 Instead they just sat there in silence； not even looking at each other。 At eleven o'clock she made two cups of coffee； and they drank them in silence。 Half an hour later they made ready for bed。 There was no sign of either Richard or Sarah； but that was only to be expected。 Their daughter would creep in some hours later； closing the door softly behind her； leaving her shoes down in the hall。
Richard； however； would e in noisily； rattling crockery in the kitchen as he made himself a snack； and then stamping up to his room in his heavy boots。 Even then the nocturnal noises would not be finished。 Taps ran unnecessarily； the toilet was flushed； and sometimes he even put his record player on。
By the time they climbed into bed； Bob Coyle was convinced that the conversation of earlier was finished。 He put out the light； and rested his head on the pillow。 His thoughts were a kaleidoscope of recent happenings and meetings： Balzur's curse； the nuclear disposal； Dyne； Anne； Richard； Sarah 。 。 。 and then； without any warning； Jane groped for him。
He was too astounded either to resist or to cooperate。 Her fingers rumbled their way inside h