《The Thirteenth Tale》第112章

i　stopped　in　my　tracks；　wondering。　“you　know；　i　never　thought　to　ask。”
‘you’ll　never　know　now；　will　you？“
he　took　my　arm　and　we　walked　on。
anyway；　returning　to　my　subject；　which　is　shadow　and　his　homesickness；　when　dr。　clifton　visited　my　father’s　shop　and　saw　the　cat’s　sadness　he　proposed　to　give　shadow　a　home　with　him。　shadow　would　be　very　happy　back　in　yorkshire；　i　have　no　doubt。　but　this　offer；　kind　as　it　is；　has　plunged　me　into　a　state　of　painful　perplexity。　for　i　am　not　sure　i　can　bear　to　be　parted　from　him。　he；　i　am　sure；　would　bear　my　absence　with　the　same　posure　with　which　he　accepts　miss　winter’s　disappearance；　for　he　is　a　cat；　but　being　human；　i　have　grown　fond　of　him　and　would　prefer　if　at　all　possible　to　keep　him　near　me。
in　a　letter　i　betrayed　something　of　these　thoughts　to　dr。　clifton；　he　replies　that　perhaps　we　might　both　go　and　stay；　shadow　and　i；　for　a　holiday。　he　invites　us　for　a　month；　in　the　spring。　anything；　he　says；　may　happen　in　a　month；　and　by　the　end　of　it　he　thinks　it　possible　that　we　may　have　thought　of　some　way　out　of　the　dilemma　that　suits　us　all。　i　cannot　help　but　think　shadow　will　get　his　happy　ending　yet。
and　that　is　all。
。。
POSTSCRIPTUM
×××小×说×网
or　nearly　all。　one　thinks　something　is　finished；　and　then　suddenly　it　isn’t；　quite。
i　have　had　a　visitor。
it　was　shadow　who　was　first　to　notice。　i　was　humming　as　i　packed　for　our　holiday；　suitcase　open　on　the　bed。　shadow　was　stepping　in　and　out　of　it；　toying　with　the　idea　of　making　himself　a　nest　on　my　socks　and　cardigans；　when　suddenly　he　stopped；　all　intent；　and　stared　toward　the　door　behind　me。
she　came　not　as　a　golden　angel；　nor　as　the　cloaked　specter　of　death。　she　was　like　me：　a　tallish；　thin；　brown…haired　woman　you　would　not　notice　if　she　passed　you　in　the　street。
there　were　a　hundred；　a　thousand　things　i　thought　i　would　want　to　ask　her；　but　i　was　so　overe　i　could　hardly　even　speak　her　name。　she　stepped　toward　me；　put　her　arms　around　me　and　pressed　me　to　her　side。
‘moira；“　i　managed　to　whisper；　”i　was　beginning　to　think　you　weren’t　real。“
but　she　was　real。　her　cheek　against　mine；　her　arm　across　my　shoulders；　my　hand　at　her　waist。　scar　to　scar　we　touched；　and　all　my　questions　faded　as　i　felt　her　blood　flow　with　mine；　her　heart　beat　with　mine。　it　was　a　moment　of　wonderment；　great　and　calm；　and　i　knew　that　i　remembered　this　feeling。　it　had　been　locked　in　me；　closed　away；　and　now　she　had　e　and　released　it。　this　blissful　circuitry。　this　oneness　that　had　once　been　ordinary　and　was　today；　now　that　i　had　recovered　it；　miraculous。
she　came　and　we　were　together。
i　understood　that　she　had　e　to　say　good…bye。　that　next　time　we　met　it　would　be　me　who　went　to　her。　but　this　next　meeting　wouldn’t　be　for　a　very　long　time。　there　was　no　rush。　she　could　wait　and　so　could　i。
i　felt　the　touch　of　her　fingers　on　my　face　as　i　brushed　away　her　tears；　then；　in　joy；　our　fingers　found　each　other　and　entwined。　her　breath　on　my　cheek；　her　face　in　my　hair；　i　buried　my　nose　in　the　crook　of　her　neck　and　inhaled　her　sweetness。
such　joy。
no　matter　that　she　could　not　stay。　she　had　e。　she　had　e。
i’m　not　sure　how　or　when　she　left。　i　simply　realized　that　she　was　no　longer　there。　i　sat　on　the　bed；　quite　calm；　quite　happy。　i　felt　the　curious　sensation　of　my　blood　rerouting　itself；　of　my　heart　recalibrating　its　beat　for　me　alone。　touching　my　scar；　she　had　brought　it　alive；　now；　gradually；　it　cooled　until　it　felt　no　different　from　the　rest　of　my　body。
she　had　e　and　she　had　gone。　i　would　not　see　her　again　this　side　of　the　grave。　my　life　was　my　own。
in　the　suitcase；　shadow　was　asleep。　i　put　out　my　hand　to　stroke　him。　he　opened　a　cool　green　eye；　regarded　me　for　a　moment；　then　closed　it　again。
％％。
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
，＿
with　thanks　to　jo　anson；　gaia　banks；　martyn　bedford；　emily　bestler；　paula　catley；　ross　and　colin　catley；　jim　crace；　penny　dolan；　marianne　downie；　mandy　franklin；　anna　and　nathan　franklin；　vivien　green；　douglas　gurr；　jenny　jacobs；　caroline　le　marechal；　pauline　and　jeffrey　setterfield；　christina　shingler；　janet　and　bill　whittall；　john　wilkes　and　jane　wood。
with　special　thanks　to　owen　staley；　who　has　been　a　friend　to　this　book　from　the　very　beginning；　and　peter　whittall；　to　whom　the　thirteenth　tale　owes　its　title　and　a　good　deal　more　besides。
xs
，