柑橘

Theyve gone now， and Im alone at last. I have the whole night ahead of me， and I wont waste a single moment of it. I shant sleep it away. I wont dream it away either. I mustnt， because every moment of it will be far too precious. I want to try and remember everything， just as it was， just as it happened. Ive had nearly eighteen years of yesterdays and tomorrows， and tonight I must remember as many of them as I can.

Tonight， more than any other night of my life， I want to feel alive.

Charlie is taking me by the hand， leading me because he knows I dont want to go. My boots are strange and heavy on my feet. My heart is heavy too， because I dread what I am going to. Charlie has told me often how terrible this schoolplace is： about Mr. Munnings and his raging tempers and the long whipping cane he hangs on the wall above his desk. Big Joe doesnt have to go to school and I dont think thats fair at all. Hes much older than me and hes never been to school. He stays at home with Mother， and sits up in his tree singing Oranges and Lemons， and laughing.

“Piggyback？”says Charlie. He sees my eyes full of tears and knows how it is. Charlie always knows how it is. So I hop up and cling on tight， crying behind my closed eyes， trying not to whimper out loud.

When I open my eyes， I see a dead crow hanging from the fence， his beak open. I am not sorry for him. It could be him that drove away my robin and emptied her nest of her eggs. My eggs. Five of them there had been， live and warm under my fingers. But something made me draw back. The robin was watching me from Fathers rose bush， her black and beady eyes unblinking， begging me.

Father was in that birds eyes. Under the rose bush， deep down， buried in the damp and wormy earth were all his precious things. Mother had put his pipe in first. Then Charlie laid his hobnail boots side by side. Big Joe knelt down and covered the boots in Fathers old scarf.

“Your turn， Tommo，” Mother said. But I couldnt bring myself to do it. I was holding the gloves hed worn the morning he died. I knew what they did not know， what I could never tell them.

Mother helped me do it in the end， so that Fathers gloves lay there on top of his scarf， palms uppermost， thumbs touching.

Charlie is finding the hill up into the village hard going. My mouth is dry with fear. I cling on tighter.

“First days the worst， Tommo，” Charlies saying. “Its not so bad. Honest.” Whenever Charlie says “honest”， I know its not true. “Anyway Ill look after you.”

The school bell rings and we line up in two silent rows， about twenty children in each. I recognise some of them from my Sunday school.

Then I see Mr. Munnings standing on the school steps cracking his knuckles. He has tufty cheeks and a big belly under his waistcoat. Its his eyes that are frightening and I know they are searching me out.

“Aha！” he cries， pointing right at me. “A new boy， a new boy to add to my trials and tribulations. Was not one Peaceful enough？ First a Charlie Peaceful， and now Thomas Peaceful. Is there no end to my woes？”

We file past him， hands behind our backs. Charlie smiles across at me as the two lines part： “Tiddlers” into my classroom， “Bigguns” into his.

“Thomas，” Miss McAllister tells me， “you will be sitting there， next to Molly. And your laces are undone.”

Everyone seems to be tittering at me as I take my place. All I want to do is to escape， to run， but I dont dare do it. I hang my head so they cant see my tears corning.

“Crying wont tie your laces up， you know，” Miss McAllister says. “I cant， Miss…”

“Cant is not a word we use in my class， Thomas Peaceful，” she says. “We shall just have to teach you to tie your bootlaces. Thats what were all here for， Thomas， to learn. You show him， Molly. Shell help you.”

So while she calls the roll Molly kneels down in front of me and does up my laces. Then she looks up at me at last and smiles. Its all I need. Suddenly I no longer want to run home. I want to stay here with Molly. I know I have a friend.

At home we dont wear boots， except for church. Mother does of course， and Father always wore his great hobnail boots， the boots he died in. Hed often take me off to work with him， to keep me out of mischief， he said. Id ride up behind him on Billyboy and hang on around his waist， my face pressed into his back. We galloped all the way that morning up through Fords Cleave Wood.

There were badger holes and fox holes to peer into， flowers to pick， or butterflies to chase. But that morning I found a mouse， a dead mouse. I buried it under a pile of leaves. Father was chopping away rhythmically nearby， grunting and groaning at every stroke as he always did. It sounded at first as if Father was just groaning a bit louder. But then， the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere high up in the branches.

I looked up to see the great tree above me swaying. Only slowly did I realise it was coming down， that when it fell it would fall right on top of me， that I was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it. I stood and stared， mesmerised at the gradual fall of it.

I hear Father shouting： “Tommo！ Tommo！ Run， Tommo！”But I cant. I see Father running towards me through the trees， his shirt flailing. I feel him catch me up and toss me aside in one movement. There is a roaring thunder in my ears and then no more.

When I wake I crawl over to where he is lying， pinned to the ground under the leafy crown of the great tree. One arm is outstretched towards me， his glove fallen off， his finger pointing at me.

He is not breathing. When I shout at him， when I shake him， he does not wake up. I pick up his glove.

In the church were sitting side by side in the front row， Mother， Big Joe， Charlie and me. Its where the Colonel and his family always sit. The coffin rests on trestles， my father inside in his Sunday suit.

The Colonel gets up into the pulpit and declares that James Peaceful was one of the best workers he has ever known. In all his thirty years as a forester on the estate， James Peaceful had never once been late for work and was a credit to his family and his village.

Afterwards we all gather round the grave and Fathers lowered down， The earth thuds and thumps down on the coffin behind us as we drift away， leaving him.

We walk home together along the deep lanes. Big Joe plucking at the foxgloves and none of us has any tears to cry or words to say. Me least of all. For I have inside me a secret so horrible， a secret I can never tell anyone， not even Charlie. Father neednt have died that morning in Fords Cleave Wood. He was trying to save me. If only I had tried to save myself， if I had run， he would not now be lying dead in his coffin. As Mother smoothes my hair， all I can think is： I have caused this. I have killed my own father.

現在，他们都走了，终于只剩下我一个人。眼前有一整夜的时间，我不会浪费一分一秒。我不会把时间浪费在睡眠上，也不会把时间浪费在做梦上。一定不能，每一分每一秒都弥足珍贵。我想要尽力把所有发生过的事情都回忆一遍。我拥有将近十八年的日夜，而今夜，我必须竭尽所能地一一回忆起这些日子。

今晚的我，比生命中的任何一晚都更想感受活着这件事。

查理牵着我的手领着我，他知道我不想去。我的靴子很重、很不舒服。我的心情也很沉重，因为我很害怕即将要去的那个地方。查理以前常常跟我说，学校是个可怕的地方：芒宁斯先生和他暴躁的脾气以及那条挂在墙上、讲台上方的教鞭。大个子乔不用上学，我觉得这一点也不公平，他可比我大得多了。他从来都不用上学，他留在家里和妈妈呆在一块儿，坐在树上唱着《柑橘与柠檬啊》，然后大笑。

“我背你？”查理说道。他看到我满眼泪水，知道了我是怎么一回事。查理总是知道事情是怎么一回事。我跳上了他的背，紧紧抓牢，闭着眼睛啜泣，竭力不让自己呜咽出声。

我睁开双眼，看见篱笆上挂着一只嘴巴张开的死乌鸦。我不可怜它。把我的知更鸟赶走，然后弄走所有鸟蛋的凶手可能就是它。我的鸟蛋。五枚温暖、有生命的蛋曾经就在我手指下，但是有件事让我缩了手。那只知更鸟正停在爸爸的玫瑰花丛上看着我，它那双乌黑圆润的眼睛一眨不眨地看着我，乞求我。

爸爸出现在那只鸟的眼里，他所有珍贵的物品都被埋在了玫瑰花丛底下那潮湿长虫的泥土里。妈妈首先把他的烟斗放了下去，然后查理把他的平头钉靴并排放入。大个子乔跪在地上，用爸爸的旧围巾盖住靴子。

“该你了，小托，”妈妈说。但我什么也做不了。我拿着爸爸死去那天戴着的手套。我知道一件他们都不知道的事，一件我永远也没办法开口告诉他们的事。

最后，妈妈帮了我，爸爸的手套就这样被放在了围巾上面，手套的掌心朝上，拇指相碰。

查理感觉走上通往村子的斜坡很吃力。恐惧让我口干舌燥。我抓得更紧了。

“第一天是最糟糕的，小托，”查理说。“坦白说，没那么糟糕。”每次查理说“坦白说”时，我就知道他在说谎。“无论如何，我会看着你的。”

学校的铃声响起，我们排成两个安静的列队，每列约二十个学生。我认出有些人也是主日学校的学生。

然后我看到了站在阶梯上的芒宁斯先生，他正在压响指关节。他满脸胡须，马甲下挺着个大肚子。最令人害怕的是他的目光，我知道他在搜寻着我。

“啊哈！”他大声叫道，直直地指着我。“新来的男孩，又有个新来的男孩要来经受我的试炼和考验了。一个皮思福还不够吗？先是查理·皮思福，现在又来了个托马斯·皮思福。我受的折磨还不够吗？”

我们把手放在背后，越过他鱼贯而入。当两支列队分开时，查理对我笑了笑，“小跟班”进了我的这间教室，“大人物”进了他的那间。

“托马斯，”麦克阿丽斯特老师对我说，“你就坐在那里，茉莉的旁边。还有，你的鞋带没绑。”

我坐下后，似乎每个人都在偷偷笑我。我只想逃离这里，跑出去，但我不敢。我低下头，不让他们看到我成串的眼泪。

“哭可不能让你的鞋带绑好，你知道的，”麦克阿丽斯特老师说。“我不会绑，老师……”

“我带的班级可不会出现“不会” 这个词，托马斯·皮思福，”她说。“看来我们得教你系鞋带了。这就是我们到这里来的理由，托马斯，来学习。你示范给他看，茉莉。她会帮你的。”

因此，在她点名后，茉莉就跪在了我面前，帮我系鞋带。最后，她抬起头看向我，对我微微一笑。这就是我需要的。我顿时不再想跑回家了。我想留在这里，和茉莉一块。我知道我有一个朋友了。

我们在家是不穿靴子的，除了是去教堂的时候。当然，妈妈有穿，爸爸也有，他总是穿着那双好看的平头钉靴，他死去时穿着的那双。他经常会带着我去工作，为了不让我调皮捣蛋，他这样说。我会骑上比利小子，坐在爸爸后面，搂着他的腰，脸紧紧挨着他的背。那天早上，我们向着福特德斯克里夫森林一路疾驰。

在那里，我可以窥探獾和狐狸的洞穴，或者采花扑蝶。但是那天早上，我发现了一只死老鼠。我用一堆树叶把它埋了起来。爸爸正在附近伐木，很有节奏。如以往一般，他每砍一下，就哼哼一声。起初，我以为爸爸不过是哼得大声了一点。但接着，那声音听起来似乎是从上面的树枝传来的。

我抬起头，看见我头上的那棵大树正在摇摇欲坠。片刻后，我才反应过来它正在往下倒，如果它倒下，就会直直砸在我身上，我就会死去，但我什么也做不了。我整个人僵住了，一动不动地看着它慢慢倒下。

我听到爸爸在大喊：“小托！小托！快跑，小托！”但我动不了。我看见爸爸穿过树林朝我跑过来，他的衬衫在挥舞。我感觉到他抱起了我，把我扔到一边。耳边传来一阵轰鸣，然后我就失去了意识。

我醒来后，爬到了他躺着的地方。他被大树那葱郁的树冠压在地上，一只手臂正朝我伸来，他的手套落在了地上，手指正指着我。

他停止了呼吸。任我朝他大叫，搖晃他的身体，他都没有醒来。我捡起了他的手套。

我们并肩坐在教堂前排，妈妈、大个子乔、查理和我。这个位置通常都是上校和他家人坐的。棺木被放在了架子上，爸爸穿着他做礼拜时所穿的衣服，躺在里面。

上校走上了讲道坛讲话，他说詹姆斯·皮思福是在他所认识的工人中表现最好的其中一个。在詹姆斯·皮思福从事林务员一职的三十年里，他从来也没有迟到过，他是家人与村民的荣耀。

然后，我们全都围在了墓穴周围，爸爸被放了下去。我们渐渐散去，把爸爸留在那儿，一把把泥土被撒到了棺木上，发出一阵阵声响。

我们沿着长长的乡间小路走回家。大个儿乔在采摘毛地黄，我们所有人都已经哭不出眼泪，说不出话来了，尤其是我。因为我心里藏着一个可怕的秘密，一个我永远也无法对别人说出口的秘密，包括查理。那天早上，爸爸本不用死在福特德斯克里夫森林的。他是为了救我。如果我当时能够自救，如果我能跑开，那么爸爸现在就不会一动不动地躺在棺木里。当妈妈抚摸我的头发时，我脑海里想的全是： 这一切都是我造成的，是我害死了爸爸。

一面之辞

A judge asked our group of potential jurors whether anyone should be excused， and one man raised his hand.

“I cant hear out of my left ear，” the man told the judge.

“Can you hear out of your right ear？” the judge asked. The man nodded his head.

“Youll be allowed to serve on the jury，” the judge declared. “We only listen to one side of the case at a time.”

一位法官问我们这群候补陪审员是否有人应当免权。一个人举起了手。

“我的左耳听不见。”那人告诉法官。

“你的右边耳朵听得见吗？”法官问道。那人点了点头。

“你将被允许加入陪审团，”法官宣布。“我们每次只听一面之辞。”