走进坡道背阴处以后，那束光终于从 Clay 肩上移开。
Only when they reached the shaded part of the slope did the beam finally leave Clay's shoulder.
他停下来，等了一会儿。塔顶的灯重新缓慢转动，扫向另一侧海面。没有警报，没有人从灯室里出来。
He stopped and waited. At the top of the tower, the light began its slow rotation again, sweeping the sea on the other side. No alarm sounded. No one emerged from the lantern room.
“谁在上面？”他问。
“Who's up there?” he asked.
“现在没人值白班。”鸭嘴兽说。
“There's no day keeper now,” said the platypus.
“我去看看。”
“I'll take a look.”
“先找地方放行李。我去取航道记录，问问有没有船讯。你那封信的出件底稿也在档案屋。”
“Find somewhere to leave your bag first. I'll fetch the channel records and ask if there's any news of the ferry. The dispatch copy of your letter is at the archive too.”
Clay 把纸包重新放回内袋。他想跟去，又想到下船时自己几乎没有吃东西。掌心在发疼，Miso 一直用鼻子顶他提着的面包袋。
Clay returned the paper packet to his inside pocket. He wanted to go along, but remembered how little he had eaten before coming ashore. His palm hurt, and Miso kept nudging the bag of rolls with his nose.
“别把衣服埋了。”他说。
“Don't bury the coat,” he said.
“棺材是借的。下午要还。”
“The coffin's borrowed. It has to go back this afternoon.”
鸭嘴兽说得很认真。Clay 看不出是否该笑，只能点头。
The platypus said it quite seriously. Clay couldn't tell whether he was supposed to laugh, so he nodded.
坡道比记忆里窄。两边的房子仍向中间倾着，二楼晾晒的床单几乎碰在一起。杂货店门前那块容易绊人的石头还在，他提早跨过去，身后的 Miso 却从另一边绕了路。
The slope was narrower than he remembered. The houses still leaned toward each other, sheets hung from their upper windows almost touching in the middle. The stone outside the grocer's, the one everyone tripped over, was still there. He stepped over it in plenty of time. Behind him, Miso went around the other side.
它老了。他也是。
The dog was getting old. So was he.
面包店开着门，门上的铃铛被一块布包住了。Clay 推门时没听见声音，反而有些不习惯。
The bakery door stood open. Someone had wrapped the bell above it in cloth. Clay pushed his way inside and found the silence oddly unsettling.
柜台后的人正把烤盘拖出来。
The woman behind the counter was hauling out a baking tray.
“今天没剩的了。”她说，“狗也没有。”
“No leftovers today,” she said. “Not for dogs either.”
Miso 的尾巴立刻摆了起来。
Miso's tail immediately began to wag.
诺拉用胳膊擦了擦额头，转身看见 Clay。她没有尖叫，也没有问他是不是鬼。她只是把烤盘往桌上放得重了些。
Nora wiped her forehead with her arm, turned, and saw Clay. She neither screamed nor asked if he was a ghost. She simply set the tray down on the table a little harder.
“他们还是用了那张照片。”
“They used that photograph after all.”
“你知道？”
“You knew?”
“我说过那张不好。他们说只有那张。”
“I told them it was a bad one. They said it was the only one they had.”
Clay 站在门口。诺拉的头发比以前短，鬓角夹着几丝面粉，或者白发。他不确定。她左手食指上戴着铜顶针，以前烤盘的把手烫，她总是忘记拿布。
Clay stood in the doorway. Nora's hair was shorter, with a few streaks of flour at the temples. Or perhaps they were gray. He wasn't sure. She wore a brass thimble on her left forefinger; the baking trays had always had hot handles, and she always forgot to fetch a cloth.
“你没去。”
“You didn't go.”
“面团不会等人死完了再发。”
“Dough doesn't wait for people to finish dying before it rises.”
她绕过柜台，从 Clay 手里拿走纸袋，低头看了一眼。
She came around the counter, took the paper bag from his hand, and peered inside.
“这是什么？”
“What is this?”
“面包。”
“Bread.”
“我看出来了。谁做的？”
“I can see that. Who made it?”
“船上买的。”
“Bought it on the boat.”
她掰开一个，敲了敲柜台。声音很脆。
She broke a roll open and tapped it against the counter. It made a crisp sound.
“你在海上待了七年？”
“Have you been at sea for seven years?”
Clay 笑了一下，喉咙里绷着的地方松了些。
Clay smiled. Something tight in his throat loosened.
诺拉把他的面包收进橱柜，切了两片新烤的，抹上咸黄油。Miso 沿着柜台绕到她脚边坐下，姿势端正得让 Clay 有些生气。
Nora put his rolls in a cupboard and cut him two slices of fresh bread, spreading them with salted butter. Miso rounded the counter and sat at her feet, so beautifully behaved that Clay found it rather irritating.
“它吃过了。”
“He's eaten.”
“我没问。”
“I didn't ask.”
她把很小的一块面包放在狗鼻子前，让它等了两秒才松手。
She held a very small piece of bread in front of the dog's nose and made him wait two seconds before letting go.
Clay 在窗边坐下。桌脚还垫着那枚旧铜币。他以前答应做一块合适的木楔，后来被叫去修雾钟，再后来就忘了。
Clay sat by the window. The old copper coin was still propping up the table leg. He had once promised to make a proper wooden wedge. Then someone had called him away to mend the fog bell, and later he had forgotten.
茶端上来，没有糖，杯柄朝左。
The tea came without sugar, the cup handle pointing left.
他摸着杯子，终于说：“渡轮不见了。”
He put a hand around the cup. At last he said, “The ferry's disappeared.”
诺拉正在收刀，刀尖停在砧板上。
Nora had been putting away the knife. Its tip came to rest on the cutting board.
“我看到码头那边的水变了颜色。”
“I saw the water change color by the pier.”
“船上有人。”
“There were people aboard.”
“你看见它沉了吗？”
“Did you see it sink?”
“没有。”
“No.”
她点点头，把刀放下。动作很轻。
She nodded and laid the knife down, very gently.
“那先别说他们死了。”
“Then let's not say they're dead yet.”
屋里安静了一小会儿。烤炉里有根柴断开，火星落了下去。
For a moment the room was quiet. A log broke in the oven, dropping sparks.
Clay 注意到炉边摆着两双鞋。一双是诺拉常穿的短靴，另一双大得多，鞋底朝着火，鞋带整整齐齐塞进里面。那双大鞋上没有新泥，皮面干得起了细纹。
Clay noticed two pairs of boots beside it. One pair was Nora's usual ankle boots. The other was much larger, the soles facing the fire, the laces tucked neatly inside. There was no fresh mud on the larger pair. The leather had dried into fine cracks.
他认得鞋主人的修补习惯：右脚前掌总要多钉两颗钉子。
He recognized their owner's way of repairing them: always two extra nails under the ball of the right foot.
“他在——”
“Is he—”
“把茶喝了。”诺拉说。
“Drink your tea,” Nora said.
Clay 抬头，她已经转身去洗手。
Clay looked up, but she had already turned away to wash her hands.
他低下头，没有再问。
He lowered his eyes and did not ask again.
过了一会儿，诺拉拿来一把铜钥匙，放在他杯子旁边。钥匙柄上套着红色的棉绳，绳头散了。
After a while, Nora brought a brass key and laid it beside his cup. A piece of red cotton cord was looped through its bow, the ends fraying.
“楼上。靠后街那间，屋顶不漏了。”
“Upstairs. The room facing the back street. The roof doesn't leak now.”
“我还没说要住。”
“I haven't said I'm staying.”
“你也没带船。”
“You haven't brought a boat either.”
Clay 把钥匙收起来。她从柜台下面找出另一把，柄上没有红绳，冲他晃了一下。
Clay put the key away. She found another beneath the counter, this one without red cord, and gave it a little shake.
“这把我留着。你以前拿走钥匙，从来不还。”
“I'm keeping this one. You used to take keys and never bring them back.”
“我还过一次。”
“I brought one back.”
“那次你把锁拆了。”
“That time you took the lock off.”
她把第二把钥匙放回围裙口袋。Clay 想起那把锁，只要南风一吹就卡住，铜簧片装反了。他几乎要解释，话到了嘴边又咽了回去。
She returned the second key to her apron pocket. Clay remembered that lock. It jammed whenever the south wind blew; the brass spring had been fitted backward. He almost explained, then swallowed the words.
诺拉在笑。
Nora was smiling.
他提着旅行包上楼。楼梯后半截换成了铁板，走上去哐哐响。Miso 在转角停住，四条腿绷直，无论怎么叫都不肯往上。
He carried his bag upstairs. The upper section of the staircase had been replaced with iron plates that clanged beneath his feet. Miso stopped at the turn, all four legs rigid, and refused to go any farther no matter how Clay called.
Clay 只好先放下行李，回来抱它。
Clay had to put down his bag and come back to carry him.
“你比走的时候重多了。”
“You're a lot heavier than when we left.”
狗把下巴搁在他肩上，毫无歉意。
The dog rested his chin on Clay's shoulder, entirely unapologetic.
房间里有一张窄床，一只空水壶，窗外能看到后街。Clay 把包放在床边，站到窗前。送货用的手推车停在街口，车上堆着几袋面粉。一个男人弯腰检查车轮，旁边的路面看起来湿漉漉的。
The room held a narrow bed and an empty water jug. Its window overlooked the back street. Clay set the bag beside the bed and went to look out. A delivery cart stood at the corner, loaded with sacks of flour. A man was bent over one of its wheels. The road beside him looked wet.
天气并没有下雨。
It had not been raining.
Clay 打开窗。远处传来一声雾钟，他看了眼表，习惯性地在心里减去十一分钟。
Clay opened the window. A fog bell sounded in the distance. He glanced at his watch, automatically subtracting eleven minutes in his head.
有人在楼下叫他。
Someone called to him from downstairs.
鸭嘴兽到了，腋下夹着一只油布文件袋，镜片上蒙了一层水汽。
The platypus had arrived, an oilcloth document wallet tucked under his arm, his glasses misted over.
“航道没有回应。我把信号留在接收机上了。”他说，“你先看这个。”
“No answer from the channel. I've left the signal on the receiver,” he said. “Look at this first.”
他抽出一张泛黄的纸，压在茶杯旁。
He took out a yellowing sheet and laid it beside the teacup.
Clay 一眼认出了自己的签名。最后一笔总拖得太长，他握笔时小指会碰在纸上，留一小道墨痕。这里也有。
Clay recognized his signature at once. The last stroke was always too long; his little finger touched the paper as he wrote, leaving a small ink smear. It was there too.
“这是哪来的？”
“Where did you get this?”
“分区灯房的许可副本。原件由主灯室保存。”
“A copy of the sector light-house permit. The original is kept in the main lantern room.”
纸上原有“临时运行”四个字。“临时”被两条细线划去，旁边另加了一行续期批注。Clay 没看过那个日期。
The paper had once read “temporary operation.” Two thin lines crossed out “temporary,” and a renewal note had been added beside it. Clay had never seen that date.
“我只签过一次试灯。”
“I only signed for one light test.”
鸭嘴兽拿出铅笔，在自己的本子上记下这句话。
The platypus took out a pencil and wrote the sentence in his notebook.
“我是告诉你，不是让你登记。”
“I'm telling you, not asking you to file it.”
“两件事我都在做。”
“I'm doing both.”
厨房后面突然传来拍门声。
A sudden bang came from the door behind the kitchen.
不是有人用手敲门。门板先向里弯了一下，门闩在木头上犁出半寸长的浅槽，随后整扇门又回到原来的位置。
No hand had knocked. The door panel bowed inward, its bolt plowing a shallow groove half an inch long in the wood. Then the whole door returned to its original position.
诺拉把炉上的锅移开。
Nora moved the pot off the stove.
“今天这么早？”
“This early today?”
她拉开侧窗，朝外面喊：“离水远一点！”
She pulled open a side window and shouted, “Keep away from the water!”
Clay 跟过去，看见楼上见过的送货人站在手推车旁。那层湿亮的路面已经从街口铺到车轮下方。男人正试着拉车，脚却像踩在一块不断后退的地毯上，越使劲，离店门越远。
Clay followed her. The deliveryman he had seen from upstairs stood beside his cart. The wet sheen had spread from the corner to beneath its wheels. He was trying to pull the cart, but his feet seemed to be on a carpet sliding backward. The harder he pulled, the farther he moved from the shop door.
Miso 低低叫了一声。
Miso gave a low bark.
“别动！”Clay 喊。
“Don't move!” Clay shouted.
男人停下来，死死抓住车把。
The man stopped, gripping the handles.
诺拉从墙上摘下一串钥匙，里面有一把长的铁钥匙。
Nora took a ring of keys off the wall. Among them was a long iron one.
“分区灯房在隔壁。伊沃去东坡修线了。”
“The sector light-house is next door. Ivo's repairing a line on the east slope.”
“以前这样怎么办？”
“What have you done when this happens?”
“把门关好，等灯重新亮。”
“Shut the doors and wait for the light to come back.”
街对面的送货人抬起头。隔着不过十几步的距离，Clay 已经听不见他在喊什么。
Across the street, the deliveryman raised his head. He was scarcely a dozen paces away, but Clay could no longer hear what he was shouting.
“这次有人在外面。”诺拉说。
“This time someone's outside,” Nora said.
Clay 伸手接过钥匙。
Clay reached for the key.