The Thirteenth Tale-第73章

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‘and　is　it　better　to　know？“　he　asked　me。

‘i　can’t　tell　you。　but　once　you　know；　it’s　impossible　to　go　back。“

‘and　you　know　my　story。“

‘yes。“

‘my　true　story。“

‘yes。“

he　barely　hesitated。　just　took　a　breath　and　seemed　to　grow　a　little　bigger。

‘you　had　better　tell　me；　then；“　he　said。

i　told。　and　while　i　told　we　walked；　and　when　i　finished　telling　we　were　standing　at　the　place　where　the　snowdrops　were　pointing　through　he　whiteness　of　the　snow。

with　the　casket　in　his　hands；　aurelius　hesitated。　“i　have　a　feeling　this　is　against　the　rules。”

i　thought　it　was；　too。　“but　what　else　can　we　do？”

‘the　rules　don’t　work　for　this　case；　do　they？“

‘nothing　else　would　be　right。“

‘e　on；　then。“

we　used　the　cake　knife　to　gouge　a　hollow　in　the　frozen　earth　above　the　coffin　of　the　woman　i　knew　as　emmeline。　aurelius　tipped　the　ashes　on　it；　and　we　replaced　the　earth　to　cover　them。　aurelius　pressed　down　with　all　his　weight；　and　then　we　rearranged　the　flowers　to　hide　the　disturbance。

‘it　will　level　out　with　the　melting　of　the　snow；“　he　said。　and　he　brushed　the　snow　from　his　trouser　legs。

‘aurelius；　there　is　more　to　your　story。“

i　led　him　to　another　part　of　the　churchyard。　“you　know　about　your　mother　now。　but　you　had　a　father；　too。”　i　indicated　ambrose’s　gravestone。

the　a　and　the　s　on　the　piece　of　paper　you　showed　me。　it　was　his　name。　his　bag；　too。　it　was　used　for　carrying　game。　that　explains　the　feather。“

i　paused。　it　was　a　lot　for　aurelius　to　take　in。　when　after　a　long　moment　he　nodded；　i　went　on。　“he　was　a　good　man。　you　are　very　like　him。”

aurelius　stared。　dazed。　more　knowledge。　more　loss。　“he　is　dead。　i　see。”

‘that’s　not　all；“　i　said　softly。　he　turned　his　eyes　slowly　to　mine；　and　i　read　in　them　the　fear　that　there　was　to　be　no　end　to　the　story　of　his　abandonment。

i　took　his　hand。　i　smiled　at　him。

‘after　you　were　born；　ambrose　married。　he　had　another　child。“

it　took　a　moment　for　him　to　realize　what　it　meant；　and　when　he　did；　a　jolt　of　excitement　brought　his　frame　to　life。　“you　mean…　i　have…　and　she…　he…　she—”

‘yes！　a　sister！“

the　smile　grew　broad　on　his　face。

i　went　on。　“and　she　has　her　own　children　in　turn。　a　boy　and　a　girl！”

‘a　niece！　and　a　nephew！“

i　took　his　hands　into　mine　to　stop　them　shaking。　“a　family；　aurelius。　your　family。　you　know　them　already。　and　they　are　expecting　you。”

i　could　hardly　keep　up　with　him　as　we　passed　through　the　lych…gate　and　strode　down　the　avenue　to　the　white　gatehouse。　aurelius　never　looked　back。　only　at　the　gatehouse　did　we　pause；　and　that　was　because　of　me。

‘aurelius！　i　almost　forgot　to　give　you　this。“

he　took　the　white　envelope　and　opened　it；　distracted　by　joy。　he　drew　out　the　card　and　gave　me　a　look。　“what？　not　really？”

‘yes。　really。“

‘today？“

‘today！“　something　possessed　me　at　that　moment。　i　did　something　i　have　never　done　in　my　life　before　and　never　expected　to　do；　either。　i　opened　my　mouth　and　shouted　at　the　top　of　my　voice；　”happy　birthday！“

i　must　have　been　a　bit　mad。　in　any　case；　i　felt　embarrassed。　not　that　aurelius　cared。　he　was　standing　motionless；　arms　stretched　out　on　either　side　of　him；　eyes　closed　and　face　turned　skyward。　all　the　happiness　in　the　world　was　falling　on　him　with　the　snow。

in　karen’s　garden　the　snow　bore　the　prints　of　chase　games；　small　footprints　and　smaller　ones　following　one　another　in　broad　circles。　the　children　were　nowhere　to　be　seen；　but　as　we　got　nearer　we　heard　their　voices　ing　from　the　niche　in　the　yew　tree。

‘let’s　play　snow　white。“

‘that’s　a　girls’　story。“

‘what　story　do　you　want　to　play？“

‘a　story　about　rockets。“

‘i　don’t　want　to　be　a　rocket。　let’s　be　boats。“

‘we　were　boats　yesterday。“

hearing　the　latch　of　the　gate；　they　peered　out　of　the　tree；　and　with　their　hoods　hiding　their　hair；　you　could　hardly　tell　brother　from　sister。

‘it’s　the　cake　man！“

karen　stepped　out　of　the　house　and　came　across　the　lawn。　“shall　i　tell　you　who　this　is？　”　she　asked　the　children　as　she　smiled　shyly　at　aurelius。　“this　is　your　uncle。”

aurelius　looked　from　karen　to　the　children　and　back　to　karen；　his　eyes　scarcely　big　enough　to　take　in　everything　he　wanted　to。　he　was　lost　for　words；　but　karen　reached　out　a　tentative　hand；　and　he　took　it　in　his。

‘it’s　all　a　bit…“　he　began。

‘isn’t　it？“　she　agreed。　”but　we’ll　get　used　to　it；　won’t　we？“

he　nodded。

the　children　were　staring　with　curiosity　at　the　adult　scene。

‘what　are　you　playing？“　karen　asked；　to　distract　them。

‘we　don’t　know；“　the　girl　said。

‘we　can’t　decide；“　said　her　brother。

‘do　you　know　any　stories？“　emma　asked　aurelius。

‘only　one；“　he　told　her。

‘only　one？“　she　was　astounded。　”has　it　got　any　frogs　in　it？“

‘no。“

‘dinosaurs？“

‘no。“

‘secret　passages？“

‘no。“

the　children　looked　at　each　other。　it　wasn’t　much　of　a　story；　clearly。

‘we　know　loads　of　stories；“　tom　said。

‘loads；“　she　echoed　dreamily。　”princesses；　frogs；　magic　castles；　fairy　godmothers—“

‘caterpillars；　rabbits；　elephants—“

‘all　sorts　of　animals。“

‘all　sorts。“

they　fell　into　silence；　absorbed　in　shared　contemplation　of　countless　different　worlds。

aurelius　watched　them　as　though　they　were　a　miracle。

then　they　returned　to　the　real　world。　“millions　of　stories；”　the　boy　said。

‘shall　i　tell　you　a　story？“　the　girl　asked。

i　thought　perhaps　aurelius　had　had　enough　stories　for　one　day；　but　he　nodded　his　head。

she　picked　up　an　imaginary　object　and　placed　it　in　the　palm　of　her　right　hand。　with　her　left　she　mimed　the　opening　of　a　book　cover。　she　glanced　up　to　be　sure　she　had　the　full　attention　of　her　panions。　then　her　eyes　returned　to　the　book　in　her　hand；　and　she　began。

‘once　upon　a　time…“

karen　and　tom　and　aurelius：　three　sets　of　eyes　all　resting　on　emma　and　her　storytelling。　they　would　be　all　right　together。

unnoticed；　i　stepped　back　from　the　gate　and　slipped　away　along　the　street。

i　will　not　publish　the　biography　of　vida　winter。　the　world　may　well　be　agog　for　the　story；　but　it　is　not　mine　to　tell。　adeline　and　emmeline；　the　fire　and　the　ghost；　these　are　stories　that　belong　to　aurelius　now。　the　graves　in　the　churchyard　are　his；　so　is　the　birthday　that　he　can　mark　as　he　chooses。　the　truth　is　heavy　enough　without　the　additional　weight　of　the　world’s　scrutiny　on　his　shoulders。　left　to　their　own　devices；　he　and　karen　can　turn　the　page；　start　afresh。

but　time　passes。　one　day　aurelius　will　be　no　more；　one　day　karen；　too；　will　leave　this　world。　the　children；　tom　and　emma；　are　already　more　distant　from　the　events　i　have　told　here　than　their　uncle。　with　the　help　of　their　mother　they　have　begun　to　forge　their　own　stories；　stories　that　are　strong　and　solid　and　true。　the　day　will　e　when　isabelle　and　charlie；　adeline　and　emmeline；　the　missus　and　john…the…dig；　the　girl　without　a　name；　will　be　so　far　in　the　past　that　their　old　bones　will　have　no　power　to　cause　fear　or　pain。　they　will　be　nothing　but　an　old　story；　unable　to　do　any　harm　to　anyone。　and　when　that　day　es—i　will　be　old　myself　by　then—i　shall　give　tom　and　emma　this　document。　to　read　and；　if　they　choose；　to　publish。

i　hope　that　they　will　publish。　for　until　they　do；　the　spirit　of　that　ghost…child　will　haunt　me。　she　will　roam　in　my　thoughts；　linger　in　my　dreams；　my　memory　her　only　playground。　it　is　not　much；　this　posthumous　life　of　hers；　but　it　is　not　oblivion。　it　will　be　enough；　until　the　day　when　tom　and　emma　release　this　manuscript　and　she　will　be　able　to　exist　more　fully　after　death　than　she　ever　lived　before　it。

and　so　the　story　of　the　ghost　girl　is　not　to　be　published　for　many　years；　if　at　all。　that　does　not　mean；　however；　that　i　have　nothing　to　give　the　world　immediately　to　satisfy　its　curiosity　about　vida　winter。　for　there　is　something。　at　the　end　of　my　last　meeting　with　mr。　lomax；　i　was　about　to　leave　when　he　stopped　me。　“just　one　more　thing。”　and　he　opened　his　desk　and　took　out　an　envelope。

i　had　that　envelope　with　me　when　i　slipped　unremarked　out　of　karen’s　garden　and　turned　my　steps　back　toward　the　lodge　gates。　the　ground　for　the　new　hotel　had　been　flattened；　and　when　i　tried　to　remember　the　old　house；　i　could　find　only　photographs　in　my　memory。　but　then　it　came　to　me　how　it　always　seemed　to　face　the　wrong　way。　it　had　been　twisted。　the　new　building　was　going　to　be　much　better。　it　would　face　straight　toward　you。

i　diverged　from　the　gravel　pathway　to　cross　the　snow…covered　lawn　toward　the　old　deer　park　and　the　woods。　the　dark　branches　were　heavy　with　snow；　which　sometimes　fell　in　soft　swathes　at　my　passing。　i　came　at　last　to　the　vantage　point　on　the　slope。　you　can　see　everything　from　there。　the　church　and　its　graveyard；　the　wreaths　of　flowers　bright　against　the　snow。　the　lodge　gates；　chalk…white　against　the　blue　sky。　the　coach　house；　denuded　of　its　shroud　of　thorns。　only　the　house　had　gone；　and　it　had　gone　pletely。　the　men　in　their　yellow　hats　had　reduced　the　past　to　a　blank　page。　we　had　reached　tipping　point。　it　was　no　longer　possible　to　call　it　a　demolition　site。　tomorrow；　today　perhaps；　the　workers　would　return　and　it　would　bee　a　construction　site。　the　past　demolis