首发偶发空缺 (临时空缺)-第82章

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‘You　know　what　I　mean！’　said　Colin；　his　face　growing　red。

‘D’you　mean；　am　I　shagging　her？’　asked　Fats。

Tessa’s　little　cry　of　‘Stu！’　was　drowned　by　Colin　shouting；　‘How　bloody　dare　you！’

Fats　merely　looked　at　Colin；　smirking。　Everything　about　him　was　a　taunt　and　a　challenge。

‘What？’　said　Fats。

‘Are　you　–’　Colin　was　struggling　to　find　the　words；　growing　redder　all　the　time；　‘–　are　you　sleeping　with　Krystal　Weedon？’

‘It　wouldn’t　be　a　problem　if　I　was；　would　it？’　Fats　asked；　and　he　glanced　at　his　mother　as　he　said　it。　‘You’re　all　for　helping　Krystal；　aren’t　you？’

‘Helping—’

‘Aren’t　you　trying　to　keep　that　addiction　clinic　open　so　you　can　help　Krystal’s　family？’

‘What’s　that　got　to　do—？’

‘I　can’t　see　what　the　problem　is　with　me　going　out　with　her。’

‘And　are　you　going　out　with　her？’　asked　Tessa　sharply。　If　Fats　wanted　to　take　the　row　into　this　territory；　she　would　meet　him　there。　‘Do　you　actually　go　anywhere　with　her；　Stuart？’

His　smirk　sickened　her。　He　was　not　prepared　even　to　pretend　to　some　decency。

‘Well；　we　don’t　do　it　in　either　of　our　houses；　do—’

Colin　had　raised　one　of　his　stiff；　clench…fisted　arms　and　swung　it。　He　connected　with　Fats’　cheek；　and　Fats；　whose　attention　had　been　on　his　mother；　was　caught　off　guard；　he　staggered　sideways；　hit　the　desk　and　slid；　momentarily；　to　the　floor。　A　moment　later　he　had　jumped　to　his　feet　again；　but　Tessa　had　already　placed　herself　between　the　pair　of　them；　facing　her　son。

Behind　her；　Colin　was　repeating；　‘You　little　bastard。　You　little　bastard。’

‘Yeah？’　said　Fats；　and　he　was　no　longer　smirking。　‘I’d　rather　be　a　little　bastard　than　be　you；　you　arsehole！’

‘No！’　shouted　Tessa。　‘Colin；　get　out。　Get　out！’

Horrified；　furious　and　shaken；　Colin　lingered　for　a　moment；　then　marched　from　the　room；　they　heard　him　stumble　a　little　on　the　stairs。

‘How　could　you？’　Tessa　whispered　to　her　son。

‘How　could　I　fucking　what？’　said　Stuart；　and　the　look　on　his　face　alarmed　her　so　much　that　she　hurried　to　close　and　bar　the　bedroom　door。

‘You’re　taking　advantage　of　that　girl；　Stuart；　and　you　know　it；　and　the　way　you　just　spoke　to　your—’

‘The　fuck　I　am；’　said　Fats；　pacing　up　and　down；　every　semblance　of　cool　gone。　‘The　fuck　I’m　taking　advantage　of　her。　She　knows　exactly　what　she　wants　–　just　because　she　lives　in　the　fucking　Fields；　it　doesn’t　–　the　truth　is；　you　and　Cubby　don’t　want　me　to　shag　her　because　you　think　she’s　beneath—’

‘That’s　not　true！’　said　Tessa；　even　though　it　was；　and　for　all　her　concern　about　Krystal；　she　would　still　have　been　glad　to　know　that　Fats　had　sense　enough　to　wear　a　condom。

‘You’re　fucking　hypocrites；　you　and　Cubby；’　he　said；　still　pacing　the　length　of　the　bedroom。　‘All　the　bollocks　the　pair　of　you　spout　about　wanting　to　help　the　Weedons；　but　you　don’t　want—’

‘That’s　enough！’　shouted　Tessa。　‘Don’t　you　dare　speak　to　me　like　that！　Don’t　you　realise　–　don’t　you　understand　–　are　you　so　damn　selfish　…？’

Words　failed　her。　She　turned；　tugged　open　his　door　and　was　gone；　slamming　it　behind　her。

Her　exit　had　an　odd　effect　on　Fats；　who　stopped　pacing　and　stared　at　the　closed　door　for　several　seconds。　Then　he　searched　his　pockets；　drew　out　a　cigarette　and　lit　it；　not　bothering　to　blow　the　smoke　out　of　the　skylight。　Round　and　round　his　room　he　walked；　and　he　had　no　control　of　his　own　thoughts：　jerky；　unedited　images　filled　his　brain；　sweeping　past　on　a　tide　of　fury。

He　remembered　the　Friday　evening；　nearly　a　year　previously；　when　Tessa　had　e　up　here　to　his　bedroom　to　tell　him　that　his　father　wanted　to　take　him　out　to　play　football　with　Barry　and　his　sons　next　day。

（‘What？’　Fats　had　been　staggered。　The　suggestion　was　unprecedented。

‘For　fun。　A　kick…around；’　Tessa　had　said；　avoiding　Fats’　glare　by　scowling　down　at　the　clothes　littering　the　floor。

‘Why？’

‘Because　Dad　thought　it　might　be　nice；’　said　Tessa；　bending　to　pick　up　a　school　shirt。　‘Declan　wants　a　practice；　or　something。　He’s　got　a　match。’

Fats　was　quite　good　at　football。　People　found　it　surprising；　they　expected　him　to　dislike　sport；　to　disdain　teams。　He　played　as　he　talked；　skilfully；　with　many　a　feint；　fooling　the　clumsy；　daring　to　take　chances；　unconcerned　if　they　did　not　e　off。

‘I　didn’t　even　know　he　could　play。’

‘Dad　can　play　very　well；　he　was　playing　twice　a　week　when　we　met；’　said　Tessa；　riled。　‘Ten　o’clock　tomorrow　morning；　all　right？　I’ll　wash　your　tracksuit　bottoms。’）

Fats　sucked　on　his　cigarette；　remembering　against　his　will。　Why　had　he　gone　along　with　it？　Today；　he　would　have　simply　refused　to　participate　in　Cubby’s　little　charade；　but　remained　in　bed　until　the　shouting　died　away。　A　year　ago　he　had　not　yet　understood　about　authenticity。

（Instead　he　had　left　the　house　with　Cubby　and　endured　a　silent　five…minute　walk；　each　equally　aware　of　the　enormous　shortfall　that　filled　all　the　space　between　them。

The　playing　field　belonged　to　St　Thomas’s。　It　had　been　sunny　and　deserted。　They　had　divided　into　two　teams　of　three；　because　Declan　had　a　friend　staying　for　the　weekend。　The　friend；　who　clearly　hero…worshipped　Fats；　had　joined　Fats　and　Cubby’s　team。

Fats　and　Cubby　passed　to　each　other　in　silence；　while　Barry；　easily　the　worst　player；　had　yelled；　cajoled　and　cheered　in　his　Yarvil　accent　as　he　tore　up　and　down　the　pitch　they　had　marked　out　with　sweatshirts。　When　Fergus　scored；　Barry　had　run　at　him　for　a　flying　chest　bump；　mistimed　it　and　smashed　Fergus　on　the　jaw　with　the　top　of　his　head。　The　two　of　them　had　fallen　to　the　ground；　Fergus　groaning　in　pain　and　laughing；　while　Barry　sat　apologizing　through　his　roars　of　mirth。　Fats　had　found　himself　grinning；　then　heard　Cubby’s　awkward；　booming　laugh　and　turned　away；　scowling。

And　then　had　e　that　moment；　that　cringeworthy；　pitiful　moment；　with　the　scores　equal　and　nearly　time　to　go；　when　Fats　had　successfully　wrested　the　ball　from　Fergus；　and　Cubby　had　shouted；　‘e　on；　Stu；　lad！’

‘Lad。’　Cubby　had　never　said　‘lad’　in　his　life。　It　sounded　pitiful；　hollow　and　unnatural。　He　was　trying　to　be　like　Barry；　imitating　Barry’s　easy；　unself…conscious　encouragement　of　his　sons；　trying　to　impress　Barry。

The　ball　had　flown　like　a　cannon　ball　from　Fats’　foot　and　there　was　time；　before　it　hit　Cubby　full　in　his　unsuspecting；　foolish　face；　before　his　glasses　cracked；　and　a　single　drop　of　blood　bloomed　beneath　his　eye；　to　realize　his　own　intent；　to　know　that　he　had　hoped　to　hit　Cubby；　and　that　the　ball　had　been　dispatched　for　retribution。）

They　had　never　played　football　again。　The　doomed　little　experiment　in　father…son　togetherness　had　been　shelved；　like　a　dozen　before　it。

And　I　never　wanted　him　at　all！

He　was　sure　he　had　heard　it。　Cubby　must　have　been　talking　about　him。　They　had　been　in　his　room。　Who　else　could　Cubby　have　been　talking　about？

Like　I　give　a　shit；　thought　Fats。　It　was　what　he’d　always　suspected。　He　did　not　know　why　this　sensation　of　spreading　cold　had　filled　his　chest。

Fats　pulled　the　puter　chair　back　into　position；　from　the　place　where　it　had　been　knocked　when　Cubby　had　hit　him。　The　authentic　reaction　would　have　been　to　shove　his　mother　out　of　the　way　and　punch　Cubby　in　the　face。　Crack　his　glasses　again。　Make　him　bleed。　Fats　was　disgusted　with　himself　that　he　had　not　done　it。

But　there　were　other　ways。　He　had　overheard　things　for　years。　He　knew　much　more　about　his　father’s　ludicrous　fears　than　they　thought。

Fats’　fingers　were　clumsier　than　usual。　Ash　spilt　onto　the　keyboard　from　the　cigarette　in　his　mouth　as　he　brought　up　the　Parish　Council　website。　Weeks　previously；　he　had　looked　up　SQL　injections　and　found　the　line　of　code　that　Andrew　had　refused　to　share。　After　studying　the　council　message　board　for　a　few　minutes；　he　logged　himself　in；　without　difficulty；　as　Betty　Rossiter；　changed　her　username　to　The_Ghost_of_Barry_Fairbrother；　and　began　to　type。

V
Shirley　Mollison　was　convinced　that　her　husband　and　son　were　over…stating　the　danger　to　the　council　of　leaving　the　Ghost’s　posts　online。　She　could　not　see　how　the　messages　were　worse　than　gossip；　and　that；　she　knew；　was　not　yet　punishable　by　law；　nor　did　she　believe　that　the