Chapter 10 Chapter nine

Colin Farrell woke up with a splitting headache.The alarm clock next to the narrow bunk told him that it was past eleven.He is on duty in the afternoon shift, from one to eight in the afternoon.He started drinking right after work last night.After a little conflict at the club, he left.He couldn't remember what happened next, but the greasy taste of chips in his mouth meant he hadn't come home to eat the dinner his mother had prepared for him. While moaning, he got up, washed and dressed, and went downstairs to listen to his mother. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he saw Arthur Dunney sitting at the table drinking tea from a mug, and his guilt evaporated immediately.

"Morning, Xiao Ke," said the security inspector, with an unnatural smile on his face. "It's you," Farrell said. "Have you run out of tea at your sister's house?" "Colin, don't be rude. After what happened last night, you should be ashamed to come into this kitchen. I had to throw his dinner away, Arthur." His mother was standing by the fire, and from it came the rich smell of meat pie.May Farrell was a tall, beautiful woman in her forties, with a face and body that would have looked better with more flesh, and the shadows that were deepening around the eyes had not been applied with a brush.

"I'm sorry," Farrell said, sitting down. He was also included as the target of Denny's apology as a matter of course. "I just brought some vegetables for your mother, Ke," he said. "You get scurvy if you don't go to sea, don't you?" "What do you say? Mom, I hope that pie wasn't baked for me. A cup of tea at most, or another sandwich, and I can't eat anything else." "You didn't eat dinner last night, I won't let you go to work on an empty stomach." "They don't have regular meals like us old folks, May," Denny said. "Xiao Ke, I dare say that when you were running the ship, you must often be called out of the berth in the middle of the night, and then you worked all day with almost nothing to eat."

"I'm not on the fucking Cutty Sark!" Farrell yelled. "Well, Mom, I'll eat a little, but not too much." "You don't miss that... life at sea?" Denny said. "I sometimes wish I had tried it when I was younger." "You're not old now, Arthur," said May Farrell. The scrawny man blushed with joy. "Yeah, you should sign up to be the ship's boy," Farrell said. "Or this is more appropriate: stowaways." Denny laughed, and finished his tea. "I should go," he said. "Meet Luo in the pit, Xiao Ke. Thank you for the tea, Mei."

As soon as the door closed behind him, May Farrell said: "Well, boy, let's get this straight: I won't let you speak ill of Arthur Dunney or anyone I invite to my house. Polite, you know?" "That pervert is here all day long, sniffing everywhere..." her son retorted. "Listen to me, Arthur is a good friend of your father, and he has been very kind to me since... that happened. So as long as I am in this house, he will always be welcome in this house, understand And besides, there's no one in Bothorpe who grows as good a vegetable as he can in his field."

Her tone changed from serious to light, indicating a truce, and Colin Farrell was also happy to accept it. "Yeah, there aren't many wives around here who get a bunch of broccoli like that," he said mischievously. "You'd better be careful lest people gossip." "What do you mean?" she said angrily, taking out a pie from the oven. "Did someone say something?" Her son smiled sweetly. "Not many people here would dare say that to me," he said, sounding self-assured. Instead of comforting her, this made her even more depressed.She put the pie on the plate in front of him.As he ate, he asked casually, "Do you think you'll get married again, Mom?"

"How would I know? I don't have anyone in my heart now, if you mean this. But this is completely reversed. It should be me asking when you are going to get married and set it up." "Me?" he laughed. "All the good women are gone, who am I going to marry?" "Don't you still miss Stade?" She asked vigilantly. "To a married woman? That's too much to say about your own son!" he mocked. "I just mean, you're the best in the world, Ma, and there's no one else as good as you." She sat down and looked at him seriously, refusing to respond to his emotional confession.

"If you're not going to settle down, what are you staying here for, Ako? I know you hate this place, always have. Don't tell me you're doing it for me. I'm fine now, I have friends, true friend..." "You mean Wendy the Red and her 'women's support group' friends?" He laughed. "With that kind of friend, you really need a man by your side to look after you." "Look, here you are again, Ake, and you want to blame me again. Don't do this. Don't be like him, hiding all your thoughts in your heart. That's right, Wendy and those people are my friends .That strike nearly killed the union, but I and many like me will say, thank God for the strike. It opened my eyes to a path I couldn't have found on my own. And you, Acco, I thought you might have found a way when you started joining..."

"Me? Oh, I like to fight and fight, but the only way I can hope to find in Bothorpe is the way out of here." "Then why don't you go?" she asked eagerly. "Don't pretend to be hurt. I know your little tricks all the time, don't you forget? You know what I'm talking about. I cried when you left for the first time after your father hurt his foot. If you I'll cry when I'm gone. But at the same time, I'm also happy that my two men won't die in that pit in the future... Yes, one of them I guessed wrong, but God knows, how... " "There are so many things God doesn't know," her son interrupted her abruptly.

"Is that so, Ako? Listen, son, he's dead and gone. Does it matter how or why he went? No matter what we do, there's nothing we can do to bring him back to life, so why waste you Drinking, fighting, and making trouble in clubs? Why keep walking around those abandoned mines, looking for some geniuses to know..." "Who's talking too much? That old woman named Denny, isn't she?" Farrell interrupted again. "Oh my god, it's like living in a fishbowl, this place! How the hell is it going to get a little privacy?" "You might as well live a low-key life, and don't go wherever you go, there will be disasters," she said.

Colin Farrell pushed the plate away and stood up. "No one lives a more low-key life than my dad, but they still let him go, don't they?" "Ake, don't talk like that. What do you mean by that? What do you want to do? Ake, please, you must not know how sad I am to see you like this." Tears rolled down her cheeks.He put his arms around her shoulders and kissed away her tears.The movements are neither clumsy nor contrived.There was a natural grace in his every move that had set him apart from an early age.He stepped back and looked at her with a smile, that smile often won him forgiveness rather than punishment, acquiescence rather than blame.Billy sometimes said she spoiled him, but she knew how much her husband loved him. "I'll be leaving soon, Mom," he promised. "As long as I'm sure you're going to be okay, and... as long as I'm sure. Now I'd better get to work." She watched him walk down Clay Street, marveling, as ever, at the combination of Billy Farrell's seed and her womb to produce such a graceful creature.Around the corner, he turned around and smiled softly, waving his bento box.She waved back, then went into the room and started clearing the dishes. Colin Farrell walked on, suppressing his smile.As soon as he went out, the long row of brick houses on the sidewalk frowned at him.They had been built a hundred years ago, when Pothorpe had undergone its first ordeal of expansion, from a modest village to a mining village.Maybe they looked happier then, but he was still skeptical.Since then there have been several expansions, most notably in the late 1960s and early 1970s.On the low hill to the east, which is the end farthest from the mine pit, there are box-like self-use houses crisscrossed, and there are modern shops (one of which is equipped with a novel plate glass window) on the central street. There is also a bank, two construction cooperatives.The strike brought a big blow to the local area, but the locals in Pothorpe are used to a big blow, whether it is a blow or a blow.If the mine doesn't fail, they have a way to rebuild the good old days. That's the irony of Farrell's day-to-day life.It's like you're dependent on a tyrant you hate for food, and if you kill him, you'll starve. He walked up the street, heading west toward the Miners' Club.The village is built in an east-west flat valley.It was on the heavily forested southern ridge that this lovely coalfield was first detected.Due to some geographical mistakes, the mine veins were broken and often exposed to the surface. It may be that an old tree was uprooted during the storm, leaking these symptoms.It was recorded at the end of the 18th century that Burr Manor, which owns the land in this area, often had disputes with local residents; the local residents who were happy to see ready-made fuel buried at their doorstep dug horizontal mines in the undergrown public land, But they didn't care that the land was adjacent to Lord Burl's woods, which was tantamount to trespassing on other people's soil.At first the Lord cared only for his trees, the game hidden in the woods, and the income these trees promised.But the new lordship, the first lordship born in the nineteenth century, understood that so-called industrial progress meant only a new serfdom replacing the old serfdom which had naturally come to an end.He began a series of rather sloppy surveys of the southern ridge, ravaging the fine woodlands that flanked the village, far from his luxurious country home.In the end he hired an engineer who knew the profession.He shuddered at the mishmash of the mines on the southern ridge, and turned north.After several months of exploration, he directly recommended that if the next generation of the Burr family wants to earn what they need to participate in the social season of the high society in London, study tours to nobles in Europe, change four shirts a day, and the latest cure for venereal diseases, etc., It depends on this place. It turns out he was right.Deep in the northern ridge, they discovered new coal seams, one to the north and one to the west.The mouth of the bulge here is completely invisible from the lord's house, and the remnants of Guitry Forest still stand on the southern ridge for a good morning walk by a guy or two. But that was a long time ago, well, a long time ago.Colin Farrell thought as he walked towards the miners' club.The mines now belong to the common people here, Burr Manor has shrunk, you can walk freely through Guitri Forest, and you're more likely to have your head blown off by a poaching miner than a flaming gamekeeper.Even the Burr mansion has been reduced to the clubhouse of the Burr Golf Club (miners are welcome to join the Ministry of Artisans), and the world is peaceful. Except he still has to walk up the long hill to clock in for his shift. He needs a drink.Glancing at my watch, there's more than enough time for a relaxing beer at the club.But he wishes he had cycled instead of walking so he could drink at the pub outside the village instead. Annoyed at his own cowardice, he had made his way to the steps of the club. Pedro Padlei watched him enter the bar with deadpan caution.With a charming smile, Farrell said, "Pedro, I'm sorry, but I was a little messed up last night." Before the Director-General could answer, another voice said, "You're not messing around, Farrell, you're just not suitable for being with decent people. Bee, I thought you'd already laid a finger on this troublemaker." a restraining order." The speaker was Harold Sattwell, who was seated near the bar next to a red-faced man in a dark suit, with a jagged beard and the stomach of a councilman.Farrell turned to face them when Pedro said, "It's up to me to decide who can come to this bar, Harlow. What's for you, Ke? A half liter of beer?" "Wait a minute, Pedro, I want to have a word with these two decent people." He walked slowly towards the two men with a friendly smile on his face. "Hello, Mr. Satwei, sir," he said. "I know you too, right? You're the reporter I threw into the window." "Yes, Mr. Farrell. My name is Monty Poehler," said the stocky man, returning a grin. "I'll buy you a glass of wine and treat you to a drink, which means I don't mind the past." "Thanks, Mr. Poehler, but no thanks. The next time you approach me or my mom and want to ask any nasty little question, I'll throw you against a brick wall." "Did you hear that, Bee? Are you saying that you shouldn't have a restraining order against a guest who threatens a member like this?" asked Satwei. Padlei came out from behind the bar and put a hand on Farrell's arm to stop him.Farrell shook off his hand and said, "Don't worry, Pedro, I'm not threatening this gentleman, I'm just letting him know some local characteristics, isn't that what newspapers are like, isn't it? As for you, Mr. Shatwei, Sir, I wouldn't even try to threaten you in my dreams because I don't have time to line up with them. But I'll tell you for free, there's no question that you'll be standing up to your shift by yourself, with nothing but rats around , no one is with you; or, when you think it is, someone will sneak up behind you, with a shovel, punch your stupid head, and throw you into the excavation ditch with a lot of Shit for company!" "Did you hear that?" Satwei said, looking around. "Everyone here has heard it, by God, Farrell, if you threaten people like this, there will be retribution!" "Threats? Who's threatening?" Farrell said, looking wounded. "I didn't take the trouble to make it clear that I wasn't threatening you, did I? No, it's all right, Pedro, I'm leaving. You can't be late for work, can you? Better hurry up, Mr. Sartre, Sir, when it comes to punctuality, you important cadres must lead by example." He swayed, shook off Pedro and grabbed his hand again, turned and walked out of the bar. In the fresh air, he took several deep breaths.The road ahead of him continued to the top of the valley and where the pits were.There are a few men walking on the road, going to clock in for work.He didn't want company yet, and on impulse he turned off the road and turned into the unpaved uphill drive next to the Miners' Club.This is the shortest way from the village to Guitri Forest.Further up the driveway, it becomes a path, then a walk—it's that bright autumn afternoon when Billy Farrell, Trish Padley, and Billy's dog, Jacko, go to The trail where wild berries are picked. Billy Farrell's last journey in life must have ended here, on that clear Boxing Day morning three months later.The ridge is dotted with pits one after another, like a beehive, whose entrances have been sealed off by anxious humans and ruthless nature.There have been many accidents here over the years, the last time during a strike, because of a lack of fuel (ironically, the only fuel shortage in the country that winter was the striking coal miners), so a group of young men opened up an old mine tunnel .The top of the tunnel collapsed, nearly killing one of the men, so that during the ensuing strike the ridge and woods were guarded by the police as strictly as they had been in the eighteenth century.This is progress. The subsequent blockade process is said to be comprehensive and complete.Yet that dark world still reserved passages for childhood memories and grown-up ingenuity, so that not all of the range that Colin Farrell roamed about, the mother worried, took place above ground. Today, he seeks peace and oblivion.As soon as the trail becomes a trail, it immediately diverges into six trails.He chose the one that led him deeper into the woods.There, a large piece of milky white limestone emerges from the ground, and everyone calls it "White Rock".Long before the excavation was less than a plowshare deep, it was a popular local tryst spot, surrounded by hidden nooks and dimples where men and women could lie together without being seen. Colin Farrell calmed down under the White Rock, recalling the time when he was a student and came here hand in hand with a girl for the first time.There was very little of the clumsiness common to teenagers in his interactions with girls.In fact, everything in life seemed so easy at that time.You can do what you want, and if you want to do something else, you do it.Nobody makes the choice for you.It wasn't until later that he began to understand how limiting your own choices can be by ignoring other people's choices. He pushed dark thoughts far away, trying to focus on bright things.For example, Mrs. Basco.How he feels about her, he still can't figure it out.With her, it feels different, that's for sure.Somehow, she just made him feel alive, made his imagination run wild.But at the same time, she also made him feel very unsure about himself, as if he had never experienced the youthful innocence, just hiding there and waiting for him.He doesn't like that.He found himself scowling again. "Stupid woman!" he said aloud, trying to dispel the image. Suddenly, he sat up straight.He felt he was heard, as if someone had been stalking him all along, and now he was startled by his unexpected yell and gave away.At the same time, he also has the feeling of being watched, but his eyes do not support his intuition. He stood up.It's time to go anyway.He walked along the top of the ridge in order to continue to cling to the world of trees and leaves and sky and earth for as long as possible.Only in the blink of an eye, he has reached the top of the valley.Here, the ground descends to join the road before climbing up to the ridge to the north.Here it is, an etched mural in a blue sky, with black towers coiled in cogwheels, conveyor belts slanting like relentless slides into the depths of a prison ship, and scattered, lifeless low houses squatting In the layers of waste produced by oneself.As for the mouth of the mine, its ugliness really underscores the vileness of those subterranean organisms. One of these buildings is a dispatch center, where people who are on duty report for work.Every time Colin Farrell came here, he still couldn't help but see his father.It was where Billy had been placed after his accident; it was where the young merchant seaman saw his father for the last time before taking leave for the last time. They had said goodbye the night before, because Billy had to get up at five to go to work.But after breakfast, a strong desire to see his father again overcame Colin, and he headed for the dispatch center.He found his father through a small window and called out, "Hey, sir, can you help this young man find an errand?" His father looked up at him anxiously and said, "Is something wrong at home?" "No, I just wanted to see if the place got better with age." "Then there's no need to make this trip. It keeps blowing up all day long, so it's no wonder it's not good." "Okay, then I'll say goodbye." "Well, take care of yourself, son." "You too, Dad." They looked at each other for a moment, then turned around together.He was full of anger with himself as he strolled down the hill.What he went to the mine to do, he knew very well, but he knew he didn't do it. Four months later, while he was pitching in the Bay of Biscay against Category 5 winds that kept them from going home for Christmas, the ship's radio came with the news that his father had died. This is his last voyage.He was under strong pressure to stay at Pothorpe.His mother was overworked, and he was engaged to Stella Gibson.Neil Watteau told him that he persuaded management to let him take over his father's old job.Goodwill, everyone said; guilt, Colin interpreted it this way.So he stayed.Within weeks, his engagement fell through; within months, his mother's condition improved, and he was without pay for his part in the strike.But he stayed on, and every time he collected his "number plate," the metal plate with his number on it, he would see his father, forever framed in the skylight of the dispatch center and his father. heart. "Come on, Dreamer," said Tommy Dixon. "It's the last place again, so everyone will think that you don't like coming to this place!" They walked into the "clean changing room" together, stripped and hung up their clothes.Then walk naked to the "dirty locker room", where the miners put their overalls called "pit black".That's the right name, Colin Farrell thought, as he pulled out the trousers, undershirt and soccer jersey he wore underground.Their original color is gone, wet with sweat and ground water in the pit, blackened with oil and grease, and full of soot, wearing these clothes, with priests wearing crosses and novices Like wearing a headscarf, it is full of symbolism.It's just that these hard, smelly clothes have no possibility of embracing lofty will and moving to a higher level. They are just a transformation from light to darkness, from the sky to the ground, from fresh air to dirty and stench; The sticky touch is the hug that the mine can give. "Are you okay, Ke? I don't want to work with a guy who's badly hungover and only half sober." Neil Watteau sat next to him, trying to get his feet into his boots.The boots were as hard as concrete since the last time they were on the job. "I'm fine," Farrell said. "You know me, I'm naturally dull." "That's not what Mr. Sartor said. He said you threatened him," Wardeau said. "He wants you to go, Xiao Ke, to leave forever." They got up together and went to the lamp room. Farrell stopped at the turnstiles and turned to face the others. "Then what did you say?" he asked. "I said, it's good to remove the thorn in my side. Otherwise, what do you think it is?" Colin grinned. "Thanks, Neil." "Okay. But beware of him, Xiao Ke, he's just waiting to pick on you." "That's it? I'll teach anytime." Farrell walks through the turnstiles into the light room, so called because lights are lined up on racks here to recharge during business hours.Each light has a number plate that hangs from a hook above it.To leave a message to the miner, the safest way is to hang the note with his number plate.You don't need many things to go down the pit, but lamps are absolutely necessary. He has a piece of paper on his peg.He pulled the paper up, opened it, and looked. Above are some rough typographical characters: SG loves HS.real.you're very pitiful. "Love letters, eh?" asked Tommy Dixon, coming up behind him. Farrell crumpled the paper in his palm, tore it up and scattered it on the floor. "Something," he said, and went to hitch a ride down the pit.

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