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！
without knowing his own story？
i thought； too； of the white tent and the remains beneath it that i now knew not to be hester’s。
it all boiled down to the night of the fire。 arson； murder； abandonment of a baby。
when the train arrived in harrogate and i stepped out onto the platform； i was surprised to find it ankle…deep in snow。 for although i had been staring out the window of the train for the last hour； i had seen nothing of the view outside。
i thought i knew it all； when i had my moment of elucidation。
i thought； when i realized that there were not two girls at angelfield but three； that i had the key to the whole story in my hand。
at the end of my cogitations i realized that until i knew what happened on the night of the fire； i knew nothing。
。。
The Thirteenth TaleBONES
it was christmas eve； it was late； it was snowing hard。 the first taxi driver and the second refused to take me so far out of town on such a night； but the third； indifferent of expression； must have been moved by the ardor of my request； for he shrugged his shoulders and let me in。 “we’ll give it a go；” he warned gruffly。
we drove out of town and the snow continued to fall； piling up meticulously； flake by flake； on every inch of earth； every hedge top； every bough。 after the last village； the last farmhouse； we found ourselves in a white landscape； the road indistinguishable at times from the flat land all about； and i shrank into my seat； expecting at any moment that the driver would give up and turn back。 only my clear directions reassured him that we were in fact on a road。 i got out myself to open the first gate； then we found ourselves at the second set； the main gates of the house。
‘i hope you’ll find your way back all right；“ i said。
‘me？ i’ll be all right；“ he said with another shrug。
as i expected； the gates were locked。 not wanting the driver to think i was some kind of thief； i pretended to be looking for my keys in my bag while he turned the car。 only when he was some distance away did i grab hold of the bars of the gate and clamber over。
the kitchen door was not locked。 i pulled off my boots； shook the snow off my coat and hung it up。 i walked through the empty kitchen and made my way to emmeline’s quarters； where i knew miss winter would be。 full of accusations； full of questions； i stoked my rage； it was for aurelius and for the woman whose bones had lain for sixty years in the burned…out ruins of angelfield’s library。 for all my inward storming； my approach was silent； the carpet drank in the fury of my tread。 i did not knock but pushed the door open and went straight in。 the curtains were still closed。 at emmeline’s bedside miss winter was sitting quietly。 startled by my entrance； she stared at me； an extraordinary shimmer in her eyes。
“bones！” i hissed at her。 “they have found bones at angelfield！” i was all eyes； all ears； waiting on tenterhooks for an admission to emerge from her。 whether it was in word or expression or gesture did not matter。 she would make it； and i would read it。
except that there was something in the room trying to distract me from my scrutiny。
‘bones？“ said miss winter。 she was paper…white and there was an ocean in her eyes； vast enough to drown all my fury。 ”oh；“ she said。
oh。 what richness of vibration a single syllable can contain。 fear。 despair。 sorrow and resignation。 relief； of a dark； unconsoling kind。 and grief； deep and ancient。
and then the nagging distraction in the room swelled so urgently in my mind that there was no room for anything else。 what was it？ some…ting extraneous to my drama of the bones。 something that preceded y intrusion。 for a faltering second i was confused； then all the insignificant things i had noticed without noticing came together。 the atmosphere in the room。 the closed curtains。 the aqueous transparency miss winter’s eyes。 the fact that the steel core that had always been r essence seemed to have simply gone from her。 my attention narrowed to one thing： where was the slow tide of emmeline’s breath？ no sound came to my ears。
‘no！ she’s—“
i fell to my knees by the bed and stared。
‘yes；“ miss winter said softly。 ”she’s gone。 it was a few minutes ago。“
i gazed at emmeline’s empty face。 nothing really had changed。 her scars were still angrily red； her lips had the same sideways slant； her eyes were still green。 i touched her twisted patchwork hand； and her skin was warm。 was it true that she was gone？ absolutely； irrevocably gone？ it seemed impossible that it should be so。 surely she had not deserted us pletely？ surely there was something of her left behind to console us？ was there no spell； no talisman； no magic that would bring her back？ was there nothing i could say that would reach her？
it was the warmth in her hand that persuaded me she could hear me。 it was the warmth in her hand that brought all the words into my chest； falling over each other in their impatience to fly into emmeline’s ear。
‘find my sister； emmeline。 please find her。 tell her i’m waiting for her。 tell her—“ my throat was too narrow for all the words and they broke against each other as they rose； choking； out of me。 ”tell her i miss her！ tell her i’m lonely！“ the words launched themselves impetuously； urgently from my lips。 with fervor they flew across the space between us； chasing emmeline。 ”tell her i can’t wait any longer！ tell her to cornel“
but i was too late。 the divide had e down。 invisible。 irrevocable。 implacable。
my words flew like birds into a pane of glass。
‘oh； my poor child。“ i felt the touch of miss winter’s hand on my shoulder； and while i cried over the corpses of my broken words； her hand remained there； lightly。
eventually i dried my eyes。 there were only a few words left。 rattling around loose without their old panions。 “she was my twin；” i said。 “she was here。 look。”
i pulled at the jumper tucked into my skirt； revealed my torso to the light。
my scar。 my half…moon。 pale silver…pink； a nacreous translucence。 the line that divides。
‘this is where she was。 we were joined here。 and they separated us。 and she died。 she couldn’t live without