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！
town。 but it isn’t that at all。 i don’t mind towns growing； so long as they do grow and don’t merely spread like gravy over a tablecloth。 i know that people have got to have somewhere to live； and that if a factory isn’t in one place it’ll be in another。 as for the picturesqueness； the sham countrified stuff； the oak panels and pewter dishes and copper warming…pans and what… not； it merely gives me the sick。 whatever we were in the old days； we weren’t picturesque。 mother would never have seen any sense in the antiques that wendy had filled our house with。 she didn’t like gateleg tables—she said they ‘caught your legs’。 as for pewter； she wouldn’t have it in the house。 ‘nasty greasy stuff’； she called it。 and yet； say what you like； there was something that we had in those days and haven’t got now； something that you probably can’t have in a streamlined milk…bar with the radio playing。 i’d e back to look for it； and i hadn’t found it。 and yet somehow i half believe in it even now； when i hadn’t yet got my teeth in and my belly was crying out for an aspirin and a cup of tea。
and that started me thinking again about the pool at binfield house。 after seeing what they’d done to the town； i’d had a feeling you could only describe as fear about going to see whether the pool still existed。 and yet it might； there was no knowing。 the town was smothered under red brick； our house was full of wendy and her junk； the thames was poisoned with motor…oil and paper bags。 but maybe the pool was still there； with the great black fish still cruising round it。 maybe； even； it was still hidden in the woods and from that day to this no one had discovered it existed。 it was quite possible。 it was a very thick bit of wood； full of brambles and rotten brushwood （the beech trees gave way to oaks round about there； which made the undergrowth thicker）； the kind of place most people don’t care to penetrate。 queerer things have happened。
i didn’t start out till late afternoon。 it must have been about half past four when i took the car out and drove on to the upper binfield road。 half…way up the hill the houses thinned out and stopped and the beech trees began。 the road forks about there and i took the right…hand fork； meaning to make a detour round and e back to binfield house on the road。 but presently i stopped to have a look at the copse i was driving through。 the beech trees seemed just the same。 lord； how they were the same！ i backed the car on to a bit of grass beside the road； under a fall of chalk； and got out and walked。 just the same。 the same stillness； the same great beds of rustling leaves that seem to go on from year to year without rotting。 not a creature stirring except the small birds in the tree…tops which you couldn’t see。 it wasn’t easy to believe that that great noisy mess of a town was barely three miles away。 i began to make my way through the little copse； in the direction of binfield house。 i could vaguely remember how the paths went。 and lord！ yes！ the same chalk hollow where the black hand went and had catapult shots； and sid lovegrove told us how babies were born； the day i caught my first fish； pretty near forty years ago！
as the trees thinned out again you could see the other road and the wall of binfield house。 the old rotting wooden fence was gone； of course； and they’d put up a high brick wall with spikes on top； such as you’d expect to see round a loony…bin。 i’d puzzled for some time about how to get into binfield house until finally it had struck me that i’d only to tell them my wife was mad and i was looking for somewhere to put her。 after that they’d be quite ready to show me round the grounds。 in my new suit i probably looked prosperous enough to have a wife in a private asylum。 it wasn’t till i was actually at the gate that it occurred to me to wonder whether the pool was still inside the grounds。
the old grounds of binfield house had covered fifty acres； i suppose； and the grounds of the loony…bin weren’t likely to be more than five or ten。 they wouldn’t want a great pool of water for the loonies to drown themselves in。 the lodge； where old hodges used to live； was the same as ever； but the yellow brick wall and the huge iron gates were new。 from the glimpse i got through the gates i wouldn’t have known the place。 gravel walks； flower…beds； lawns； and a few aimless…looking types wandering about—loonies； i suppose。 i strolled up the road to the right。 the pool—the big pool； the one where i used to fish—was a couple of hundred yards behind the house。 it might have been a hundred yards before i got to the corner of the wall。 so the pool was outside the grounds。 the trees seemed to have got much thinner。 i could hear children’s voices。 and gosh！ there was the pool。
i stood for a moment； wondering what had happened to it。 then i saw what it was—all the trees were gone from round its edge。 it looked all bare and different； in fact it looked extraordinarily like the round pond in kensington gardens。 kids were playing all round the edge； sailing boats and paddling； and a few rather older kids were rushing about in those little canoes which you work by turning a handle。 over to the left； where the old rotting boat… house used to stand among the reeds； there was a sort of pavilion and a sweet kiosk； and a huge white notice saying upper binfield model yacht club。
i looked over to the right。 it was all houses； houses； houses。 one might as well have been in the outer suburbs。 all the woods that used to grow beyond the pool； and grew so thick that they were like a kind of tropical jungle； had been shaved flat。 only a few clumps of trees still standing round the houses。 there were arty… looking houses； another of those sham…tudor colonies like the one i’d seen the first day at the top of chamford hill； only more so。 what a fool i’d been to imagine that these woods were still the same！ i saw how it was。 there was just the one tiny bit of copse； half a dozen acres perhaps； that hadn’t been cut down； and it was pure chance that i’d walked through it on my way here。 upper binfield； which had been merely a name in the old days； had grown into a decent…sized town。 in fact it w