gns.throwback-第4部分

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d　out　for　something　but　not　knowing　what。　Then　her　stomach　rumbled　and　she　knew　that　she　needed　food。　The　bags　dropped　from　her　hands；　spilling　out　their　contents；　but　they　were　ignored；　reaching　up；　pulling　at　foliage；　sniffing　it　but　it　was　brown　and　bitter；　unpalatable。　She　grunted　with　rage；　tore　at　more　branches；　cast　them　aside。　And　overhead　a　wheeling　crow　cawed　its　own　anger　and　frustration。　It；　too；　was　having　difficulty　in　finding　food　in　this　burned…up　land。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　TWO
　　
　　'Jesus　CHRIST；　what　wouldn't　I　give　for　some　proper　food。'　Sylvia　Atkinson　wrinkled　her　freckled　features　in　disapproval　as　she　chewed　on　a　handful　of　freshly　pulled　bean　sprouts。　'Being　a　health　food　freak　isn't　my　idea　of　eating；　Jon。'
　　
　　'It's　the　difference　between　surviving　or　dying。'　Jon　Quinn　regarded　her　steadily；　furrowed　his　brow　and　wondered　how　long　it　would　be　before　she　went　over　the　top；　ran　up　that　flight　of　steps　and　out　into　the　remnants　of　the　world　they　had　once　known。　'At　the　moment　we　have　two　advantages　over　the　rest　of　the　population　of　Great　Britain；　maybe　even　over　the　western　world。　We　have　a　seed…sprouter　and　an　almost　unlimited　supply　of　fresh　food；　and；　as　far　as　we　can　tell；　we're　more　or　less　all　right；　just　like　we　used　to　be。　God　knows　how　everybody　else　will　finish　up；　how　much　longer　they'll　last。　All　we　can　do　is　stop　down　here　and　wait。'
　　
　　They　ate　in　silence；　everything　that　had　to　be　said　had　been　said　during　the　last　few　days。　Now　they　were　starting　to　get　on　each　other's　nerves；　which　was　inevitable。　He　studied　her　carefully；　let　his　gaze　run　over　the　small　slim　figure　clad　in　a　soiled　cheese…cloth　dress；　sandalled　feet　and　purple　toenails；　ran　his　eyes　all　the　way　back　up　her　again。　Her　short　dark　hair　was　tangled　and　needed　bing　but　she　wasn't　in　the　mood；　her　plexion　so　much　paler　without　make…up。　Dark　eyes　that　no　longer　shone；　were　pouched　and　baggy　underneath。　A　permanent　expression　of　hopelessness；　she　was　fast　giving　in；　being　a　problem　that　he　could　well　do　without。　Jackie　had　more　resilience；　would　have　e　up　with　a　few　constructive　ideas　by　now。　And；　that　constant　nagging　thought；　where　was　Jackie？
　　
　　Shrewsbury；　no　doubt。　Alive　or　dead？　It　was　anybody's　guess　who　was　alive　or　dead　out　there。
　　
　　He　found　himself　studying　the　interior　of　the　cellar　again　even　though　every　square　inch　of　it　was　indelibly　imprinted　on　his　mind。　Boring；　but　it　was　the　sole　reason　they　were　still　alive。
　　
　　The　idea　of　converting　this　underground　ten…by…ten　cubicle　into　a　nuclear　fall…out　shelter　had　seemed　a　crazy　whim　five　years　ago　but；　as　he　had　pointed　out　to　Jackie；　it　could　serve　a　dual　purpose；　food　storage　in　case　it　was　ever　needed；　an　ideal　place　for　seed…sprouting　and　a　few　mushroom　buckets。　A　potato　store；　too。　That　way　Jackie　had　not　been　so　cynical　about　it；　only　begrudging　the　money　spent　on　filters　and　other　items　of　equipment　needed　to　bat　radiation　in　the　atmosphere。　All　the　same；　he　had　constructed　the　shelter　subversively　under　this　ploy；　got　his　own　way　by　cunning。　There　was　no　incentive　to　build　something　which　you　hoped　you　would　never　have　to　use　but　if　it　had　an　alternative　purpose　it　wasn't　so　bad。　The　ironic　part　was　that　Jackie　wasn't　here　so　that　he　could　say；　'I　told　you　so。'
　　
　　Shelving　on　two　walls；　mostly　stacked　with　durable　foodstuffs　from　the　health　food　shop　in　Knighton。　Coffee　（decaffeinated）；　a　selection　of　herb　teas；　muesli　bars；　a　variety　of　nuts；　tubs　of　seeds　for　sprouting；　dried　vegetables。　Eating；　for　Jon；　wasn't　any　different　now　from　what　it　had　been　for　years。　Jackie　wouldn't　have　minded　but　Sylvia　was　yearning　for　a　return　to　convention。　That　might　never　happen；　probably　wouldn't；　but　he　could　not　tell　her　that　because　it　would　destroy　that　last　tiny　flicker　of　hope　that　kept　her　going。
　　

　　Eight　years　ago　he　had　been　just　an　ordinary　clerk　working　in　a　Birmingham　office；　nine　to　five；　Mondays　to　Fridays；　on　a　take…home　of　eighty　a　week。　He　wasn't　well；　nothing　that　you　could　put　your　finger　on；　probably　a　bination　of　junk　food　and　boredom　that　inspired　him　to　vegetate。　It　was　Jackie　who　had　been　the　driving　force　behind　him；　had　dragged　him　out　of　the　rut。　Earlier　in　her　life；　before　their　marriage；　she　had　been　a　vegetarian　and　she　had　realised　the　necessity　to　find　an　avenue　of　escape　from　their　conventional　existence。　Reading　and　fantasising　about　'the　good　life'　was　one　thing；　having　the　courage　to　put　it　into　practice　was　another。
　　
　　The　following　spring　she　had　persuaded　him　to　dig　up　the　upper…tier　lawn　of　their　small　semi…detached　garden　and　plant　it　with　vegetables。　'It's　a　positive　start；'　she　had　said。　'Grass　is　no　good　unless　you've　got　a　goat　or　a　cow；　and　as　local　bye…laws　prevent　us　from　having　either　we　must　use　the　ground　constructively。　Mowing　lawns　is　just　unconstructive　work！'
　　
　　The　next　spring　the　lower…tier　lawn　went　the　same　way　and　Jon's　enthusiasm　grew。　Little　by　little　she　had　'enlightened'　him；　wholewheat　bread　instead　of　white　sliced；　textured　vegetable　protein　replacing　the　Sunday　joint　and　just　as　tasty。　His　health；　his　whole　outlook；　improved。　The　big　step　was　looming　up　but　again　he　had　needed　her　to　give　him　a　shove。
　　
　　'We'll　sell　up；　buy　a　smallholding　and　take　our　chance；'　she　told　him　one　evening。
　　
　　'We　don't　have　the　money。'　His　resistance；　his　townie　caution　was　only　to　be　expected。
　　
　　'We　will　have；'　she　smiled；　'when　we　sell　this　place。　Residential　houses　fetch　money　and　there's　a　property　boom　on　at　the　moment。　We'll　get　twenty　grand　for　this　house　even　if　it　is　a　semi。　That　kind　of　money　will　buy　us　a　small　spread　up　in　those　Shropshire　hills　where　land　and　cottages　are　relatively　cheap。　We　don't　have　a　lot　of　mortgage　left　anyway　and　it'll　be　more　of　a　swap　。　。　。　this　house　and　your　job　for　a　smallholding；　and　after　that　it　will　be　up　to　us。'
　　
　　He'd　been　scared；　scared　so　that　he　lay　in　bed　each　night　telling　himself　what　a　bloody　fool　he　was　but　he　didn't　care　because　this　sort　of　artificial　existence　was　no　more　than　ticking　the　years　off；　waiting　for　retirement。　And　when　you　were　retired　all　you　had　left　was　another　period　of　waiting　。　。　。　waiting　to　die。
　　
　　It　had　worked　out。　The　house　had　been　sold　and　they　had　found　a　seven…acre　spread　and　a　tumbledown　cottage　in　the　hills　and　had　even　had　a　thousand　left　over　after　the　mortgage　was　cleared。　But　without　Jackie　he　wouldn't　have　made　it　even　then；　she　had　her　own　ideas　about　farming；　ideas　which　made　them　'cranks'　in　the　eyes　of　the　sparse　local　munity。
　　
　　'Look　at　it　this　way；'　she　told　him　one　night　after　he　had　spent　the　day　propping　up　the　sagging　roof　timbers　in　the　old　stone　cottage。　'If　we　go　in　for　conventional　stock　farming　we'll　be　lucky　to　make　a　thousand　a　year　with　a　few　cattle　and　sheep；　and　that's　providing　we　don't　have　any　mishaps　which　we　probably　will　have　because　we're　only　amateurs；　after　all。'
　　
　　Jon　closed　his　eyes；　waited　for　it。　But；　after　all；　she　had　been　right　about　digging　up　those　lawns。
　　
　　'We'll　start　up　an　organic　farm；'　she　smiled。　'It'll　be　hard　work　but　there's　a　genuine　need　for　the　produce。　Carrots　for　cancer　sufferers；　under　alternative　treatment　they　have　to　drink　three　pints　of　organic　carrot　juice　a　day；　plus　goats'　milk　yoghurt；　so　we'll　keep　goats。　And　garlic；　there's　a　big　demand　for　garlic　but　most　of　it　is　imported。　There's　lots　of　other　lines　we　can　experiment　with　too。　We　won't　make　a　fortune　but　we'll　make　a　living　and　most　important　of　all　we'll　have　our　freedom。'
　　
　　As　usual　Jackie　had　been　right。　It　had　been　hard　work；　very　hard　work；　and　still　was　but　they　had　made　it。　Contrary　to　popular　local　expectations；　they　had　succeeded　in　growing　their　crops　on　a　windswept　slope　1；000　feet　above　sea…ievel；　they　had　built　up　their　own　goat　herd　and　even　had　a　billy　for　stud。　They　still　had　the　old　Citroen　Dyane　but　had　managed　to　buy　a　battered　old　canvas…topped　Land　Rover　for　farm　work　as　well。　That　part　of　it　had　worked　out；　but　somewhere　along　the　way　things　had　gone　wrong　for　Jon　and　Jackie；　they　found　themselves　drifting　apart。　These　last　few　days　Jon　had　tried　to　put　his　finger　on　the　cause　but　it　had　eluded　him。　In　a　way　he　felt　guilty　about　having　Sylvia　in　here　with　him；　occupying　Jackie's　rightful　place　in　a　tiny　haven　of　safety。　It　was　as　though　he　had　traded　his　wife's　life　for　that　of　his　mistress。　If　Sylvia　took　it　into　her　head　to　walk　out　of　here　and　go　on　up　there；　get　herself　all　burned　up　or　whatever；　then　that　was　her　lookout。　No；　it　wasn't；　he'd　do　his　utmost　to　stop　her　because　if　she　went　then　he　would　be　left　alone　and　he　could　not　stand　that。
　　
　　'How　much　longer　do　we　have　to　stay　down　here？'　She　broke　the　long　silence；　asked　a　question　which　he　had　been　asking　himself　these　last　couple　of　days　and　had　not　had　the　courage　to　take　responsibility　for　the　answer。
　　
　　'Another　few　days；　I　guess。'　He　stared　down　at　the　bare　concrete　floor　and　wished　that　he　had　saved　that　old　piece　of　coconut　matting　out　of　the　kitchen　instead　of　burning　it。　Jackie's　motto　was　that　you　never　got　rid　of　anything。　'That　freak　gale　and　rainstorm　last