Chapter 7 Chapter VII

The wires on both sides of the road undulate up and down, and the ground also circles around the car window. At this moment, Bi Cui's mood is just like the wires and the ground in front of her, up and down, undulating and whirling endlessly. "Of course, I should have come to see you in person," she recalled Mr. Sandow saying on the phone: " It's against my principles to use the phone for such an important matter.But I feared that if I had come to the door in person, I might have given the kids the impression that something serious was going on, and if the problem was only temporary, it wouldn't be worth the fuss. "

Poor Mr Sandow.He is a very considerate person. When the phone call came to this point, he asked her if she was sitting down at that time, and then he dared to tell her the news.After finishing talking, he asked her, "Miss Asybe, don't you feel like you're going to faint?" She didn't pass out.She stayed for a while, letting her knees recover, and then went back to her room to find some pictures of Bert.But apart from a photo of Simon and Bert in the photo studio when they were ten years old and Eileen was nine years old, Beetui couldn't find anything else.She has never paid much attention to the preservation of photos.

Her sister-in-law, Nora, is very enthusiastic about collecting children's photos, but she doesn't like photo books, thinking it is a "waste of time and space" (Sanla never wastes anything, maybe she realizes somewhere I don't have many days to come).She put the pictures of the children in a big brown paper bag, no matter where she went, that brown paper bag always followed him, that time she was on vacation in continental Europe, she still took the same brown paper bag, naturally, with the plane on the coast of Kent In an accident, the paper bag was also burned. Since she couldn't find a picture, Beatrice went upstairs to the old kid's room, as if doing so would bring her closer to Bert the kid, even though she knew she couldn't find any of Bert's in the room.Simon has burned all Bert's stuff.This was the only way she felt Simon was having a hard time accepting Bertrand's going away.Simon left for school shortly after Bert's death, and when he came back for the summer he was behaving normally, if you think not mentioning Bert is normal.But one day, Beatrice discovered that Simon had lit a fire where the children usually played "Indian Campfire", and threw Bert's toys and some small things into the fire.Books, pictures, and that funny little wooden horse that hung over Bert's bed—Simon burned them all.

When Simon saw Beetui, he looked very angry.He kept moving back and forth between Beetui and the fire, as if guarding against something, staring at her. "I don't want to see them again!" Simon almost shouted. "Son, I understand," she replied, and walked away.In this way, in this children's room, there is no more Bert's stuff.In fact, there wasn't much other kids' stuff to be found either.When Beicui slept here when she was a child, the room was not beautiful, and most of the furnishings in the room were furniture that was not used in other rooms.The floor was covered with patterned linoleum, covered with a small rug, a cuckoo clock hung on the wall, and scattered around were chairs for placing things, an ironing rack, a square table, and so on.But then Nora had refurbished the room into a beautiful pink-blue-and-white room, and the wallpaper was printed with characters from fairy tales and nursery rhymes, like illustrations in decorating magazines.Only the cuckoo clock remained.

The children once had a happy time in this room, but now there is no trace left.Now the room was as spacious and uncluttered as a window in a furniture store. Bicui returned to her room again, with a heavy heart, and packed up some toiletries.Tomorrow she has to go to the city to face the first big challenge in the history of the Asybe family. "Do you yourself believe that man is Bert?" she asked herself more than once. But Mr. Sandow gave her no definite evidence at all. "He doesn't look like he's faking it." He agrees: "If he's not Bert, then who is he?" child."

"But if Bert hadn't died, he'd have written home," she said. She kept thinking about it over and over again.Bert would never let her live in sorrow and doubt all these years, he would write home.That person must not be Bert. But if he wasn't Bert, who would it be? This idea kept circling in her mind, ups and downs, lingering. "You'll be the best referee," Mr. Sandow said. "You're the surviving family member who knows this kid best." "And Simon," she said. "But Simon was a kid when it happened. Kids are forgetful, aren't they? You're an adult."

This time, the responsibility fell entirely on her.But how would she know? She loves Bert very much, but until now she doesn't remember what he looked like when he was thirteen years old.What kind of test will she face? Or, will she be able to tell at a glance that the man is Bert? - or not? What if he is not Bert at all, but insists that he is? Will he go to court? Will he go to court to take action? Will it be broadcast in the media? If he is really Bert, how will Simon react? And the resurrected brother? Also, this way, all the family business he could inherit before fell into Bert's hands.Will he be happy, or hate this brother? The coming-of-age ceremony must be postponed.The date was so close that it was impossible to make any decisions before then.But what excuse could she have? Oh, but if, by some miracle, it were Bert, she would be free from that haunting nightmare—she used to think: When Bert When Te began to regret in the too deep water, he had no strength to swim back.

When she walked up the stairs of Ke Shinuo's lawyer building, her mind was still spinning like this. "Ah, Ms. Assubie," Mr. Sandow greeted, "this is really shocking. I never thought of it, please sit down first. You must be exhausted. This is really a Terrible ordeal. Sit down, sit down. Arthur, make some tea for Ms. Assubie, please. " "Did he tell you why he hasn't written home all these years?" she asked first, and it was her most important question. "He said things like, 'Maybe I'd rather be dead'." "Oh." "I think this is undoubtedly a psychological difficulty." Mr. Sandu said in a comforting tone.

"Then you believe he is Bert?" "I mean, if he's really Bert. His saying 'maybe I'd rather I was dead' is no doubt as psychologically difficult as his running away from home." "Yes, I see. I suppose it makes sense. But it's so unlike Bert not to write a letter for so many years." "Yeah. He's not really a runaway kid by nature. He's a very sensitive kid, but he's also pretty brave. Something must have happened." She sat there for a moment. , and then said: "Now, he is back." "Hope it is, hope it is."

"Do you think he looks normal?" "It's normal," Mr. Sandow replied, but there was a dryness in his voice. "I wanted to find some photos of Bert, but I couldn't find one taken later than this one." She took out the family photo. "The kids would go to the studio for a photo about every three years from a young age. This is the last one they'll take. Then again, it should have been filmed in the summer of Bill and Nora's death, the year Bert also—— disappeared. This photo was taken when Bert was ten years old. ,, she carefully watched Mr. Sandu study Bert's immature face in the photo.

"I can't help it." After a while, Mr. Sandu finally said, "I really can't tell anything from the photos taken so long ago. As I said before, he really looks like the people in the family. At that age they were just Asyubey kids anyway, nothing personal." He lifted his eyes from the picture and went on: "I hope that when you see that kid—or that young man— You can tell at a glance whether he is or not. After all, it's not just about likeness, it's also about his temperament, isn't it?" "But what if I'm not sure? What if I'm not sure?" "I've thought of a way to do that. I dined with my friend Mark Wen last night." "Is that Mr. Markwin the scout?" "Yes. At that time, I was so upset that I told him about my difficulties. He reassured me that it is actually very easy to tell the truth from the false. Just look at the teeth." "Teeth? But Bert's teeth are pretty ordinary." "That's right, that's right. But he's always been to the dentist, and dentists keep records. In fact, dentists have a special sensitivity to the teeth they see, and they can often recognize who they are when they see them. Besides, Their records must show—" He noticed the difference in Beetui's expression, and asked, "Is there something wrong?" "My child sees Dr. Hermann!" "Dr. Herman? How? That's easy, isn't it? If you're not sure it's Bert, we just—" At this point, he stopped and sighed suddenly: "Dr. Herman! Ah!" and called out in a low voice: "It's terrible!" "Yeah!" said Beatrix, echoing Mr. Sandow's "terrible." "My God, what a coincidence, what a coincidence!" It turned out that Dr. Herman's clinic had already been burned down by a fire that year. After a silence, Mr. Sandow said: "I thought I should tell you that Markwin thinks that boy is a liar." "How does Mr. Ma know?" Bitui said angrily after hearing this: "He has never seen him!" Seeing that Mr. Sandu fell silent again, she added: "Then what do you say?" "It's just a judgment he made based on assumptions." "I know. But why should he think so?" "He said, go straight to a lawyer — that's too hypocritical." "It's ridiculous for him to say that! It makes sense!" "Yeah. That's what he thinks. So reasonable. So reasonable. Mark Wen said that everything made too much sense.He believes that after a child has been away from home for several years, he should go home first when he returns to his hometown. " "Then he doesn't know Bert too well. This is exactly Bert's way of doing things. In a more gentle way, first go to the family lawyer to tell the truth, and then let the family know indirectly. He has always been very thoughtful, And it’s not selfish at all. I don’t think Mr. Ma’s analysis makes sense.” "I just thought I should tell you all I know," said Mr. Sandow, still looking pitiful. "Of course, of course," Beatrice said sympathetically, her temper much better: "Did you tell Mr. Ma Bert—or did the boy even remember crying in Olympia? I mean, he offered to bring this up?" "I told him." "So he still thinks he's lying?" "This is also the part that he thinks is too hypocritical and fake." Beatri snorted. "What kind of thinking is that!" she said. "I think that's what courts do." "It's what's called the separation method. There's no emotional involvement at all. It's a way of separating our intellect from our emotions." "Yes." Bitui replied with a serious expression. "Mr. Herman can't help us now—you know what? They never found him. It's all gone." "Yes, yes, I heard. Poor fellow." "Now that we have no physical evidence of any kind, it looks like we'll have to rely on the kid's story. I mean, if you want to check.I think it can be done. " "Oh, pretty easy. Everything is clear, with a date and place to look up. That's what Markvin thought too—yes, yes, it can be checked. Of course I'm sure I can. He doesn't would provide evidence that we don't make sense." "There's really nothing to wait for." "No. I—yes, yes, there's nothing left to wait." Bitui put her hands on her chest. "So how soon can you arrange for me to meet him?" "That—I thought about it too, and I don't think it needs to be arranged at all, you know." "what? " "What I'm trying to do - if you're okay with it - is to just walk up to him. Go without warning, just go. That way you can see him as he really is, not as he wants you to see him. If Let's make an appointment with him here, maybe he'll—" "I know, I understand. I agree. Can we go now?" "Of course. Of course." Mr. Sandu's tone revealed the frustration of a lawyer who couldn't find a reason to refuse. "Of course, there's a chance he's gone out. But we can at least take a look. Oh, here's your tea! You have some tea first, I'm Arthur. Let Senson ask Willie to call us a taxi. , "Is there a stronger drink?" Bitui asked. "I'm afraid not, I'm afraid not. I've never had a habit of keeping a bottle of wine in the office. But if you need anything, I can ask Willy to help you—," Oh, no, no, thank you, it's okay.I'm fine with tea. I heard that tea has stronger stamina. " Mr. Sandow looked as if he was about to pat Betty on the shoulder to encourage her, but he couldn't make up his mind whether to do so.He is indeed a very considerate person, Bitui thought, but, just, not very strong and reliable. "Did he explain why he took the name Farrah?" asked Beatrice, as they got into the cab. "He didn't explain anything," replied Mr. Sandow, his voice as dry as before. "Do you think he's having a bad time?" "He didn't mention money, but he looked well dressed, just a little different from what's popular in the UK." "He didn't mention borrowing money?" "No, not at all." "So, he didn't come back because he didn't have money." Bitui said, feeling quite comforted in her heart.She sat back a little, feeling a little more relaxed. Maybe things are not that difficult. "I've never quite understood why the Pinlick area has declined so quickly." As they drove through the streets of Pinklick, Mr. Sandow deliberately broke the silence and said: "The street is so wide, the traffic is not busy, and it's not like the neighbors." The area is so dirty. Why do the rich people stop living here and stay in Berg? I don't understand! " "There's a reason for this." Bitui catered to his topic: "They don't want to live in the same area as the ordinary Shengdou people who have just moved in, for fear that their identities will be degraded." When they stopped in front of the house, her uncomfortable feeling returned.The paint on the house was peeling and the walls were quite mottled, it looked like a run down house. The front door was open and they walked in. Different cards were hung on each door on either side of the corridor, and it was evident that the house was rented by room. "His address is 59K," said Mr. Sandow. "I think K is the room number." "The rooms are counted upwards from the basement," Bitui said, "my side is B." So they walked up. "This is H," Bitui said, and glanced at a room on the first floor: "It should be the upper floor." The second floor is the top floor.They stood silently on the dark staircase.He was out, she thought, he must be out. Everything has to start all over again. "Do you have any matches?" she asked. "Yes, yes." Mr. Sandu hurriedly helped. "I and J," she read the numbers of the two rooms ahead. Then it should be the back room. They stood for a moment in the corridor, staring at the room.Then Mr. Sandow made up his mind, stepped forward and knocked on the door. "Come in!" said a voice.It was a low, childish voice, not quite like Bert's rather grown-up voice.Beatrice was a full head taller than Mr. Sandal, and could see the boy over Mr. Sandal's shoulder. To her surprise, the boy resembled Simon far more than he resembled Bert! Her mind was always full of Bert's appearance: it was a vague impression at first, but after her hard work, it became clearer now. It can be compared with the image of an adult.For the past twenty-four hours, her mind had been preoccupied with the image of Bert. Now in front of her is a person exactly like Simon. The boy got up from the edge of the bed where he was sitting, and pulled off the sock he was mending on his left hand, without any haste or embarrassment.Beatui couldn't imagine Simon's sock mending gesture at all. "Morning," he greeted them. "Morning," Mr. Sandow replied, "I hope you don't mind, I have a visitor for you." He moved sideways so that Beatrice could step forward. "Do you know who this is?" Beetui's eyes met the boy's calm gaze, and her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she watched how he recognized her. "You changed your hairstyle," he said.Yeah, of course, the hairstyles that are in fashion now are so different from those eight years ago, no wonder he recognized them instantly. "So you know her?" asked Mr Sandow. "Of course, it's Aunt Bitui." She waited for him to come forward, but he did not move.After a pause, he began to find a place for her to sit. "There's only one chair, I'm afraid. If you don't sit on its back, you'll be all right," he said, pulling out a chair with a back and a hole in the seat. "Would you mind sitting on the bed?" "I'll do it standing up: thank you, I'll do it standing up," said Mr. Sandow hastily. Not every detail of his face looked like Simon, Beatrice mused, watching the boy carefully insert the needle into the sock.But the overall impression is very similar.Once you look closely, the startling resemblance disappears, leaving only the familiar feeling of their family. "Ms. Assube didn't want to wait until we had an appointment in the office, so I just brought her here." Mr. Sandow said, "You don't look special—" He deliberately didn't finish the second half of the sentence department. The boy looked at her with a friendly but non-smiling expression and said, "I'm not sure if you welcome me back." It was a strange, lifeless face, like a face drawn by a child.There is nothing wrong with every part of the face, and the proportions are all right, but it just lacks vividness.Even the mouth is the same as a child's drawing, showing an uncompromising straight line. He went to put the socks on the wardrobe, and she noticed that he had a limp. "Your foot hurt?" she asked. "Broken in America." "But if your feet still hurt, can you walk like this?" "Oh, it doesn't hurt a long time ago," he replied, "it's just a little shorter." "Short! You mean, never recover?" "probably." His lips were sensitive, she noticed, and though thin, could express a great deal when he spoke. "But there's always a way," she said. "It just means the doctor didn't fix your foot. That doctor must have been a bad doctor." "I don't remember any doctors treating me. Maybe I passed out then. They did what they were supposed to do: hung heavy things under my feet... What. " "But, Bo—" she began to call him, but couldn't finish his name. He filled in the gap and said to Bitui, "You don't need to call me by my name until you are completely sure." "The current surgical technology is very miraculous," Bitui continued, also deliberately covering up the loopholes just now, "When did this happen?" "I'll have to think about it. About two years ago, I think." There was nothing wrong with his accent, except for a syllable or two that tinged with Americana. "Well, we've got to figure it out. Fall off a horse?" "Yes. I was too slow to react then. How did you know I fell off my horse?" "You tell Mr. Sandow that you work at the horse farm. Do you like that job?" she thought, and let it be casual chatter. "That is the greatest enjoyment in life." She no longer felt that this was small talk. "Really?" she said cheerfully. "How about those western horses?" "Of course, most are just so-so, but every once in a while you come across a really good horse. Some are really good." "Do you have a horse of your own?" "Yes, I have a horse named 'Smoke'." She noticed that when he lifted the horse, his voice changed. "What happened to the horse?" "I sold it." Beatrice began to hope very much that the boy turned out to be Bert.The idea made her feel weird too. Mr. Sandow saw her pleading in her eyes, and said, "Ms. Assubie didn't mean to make things difficult for you, but you understand that this matter needs further verification. If this is just a simple prodigal son coming home, as long as Your aunt accepts, and everything is fine, but you know that this matter now involves property issues. This is a matter of who the entire property should be handed over to. Before you officially inherit the property that should have been inherited by Bert, All the details must, of course, be clear and without a doubt. I hope you understand the situation." "I fully understand. I will remain here until you have investigated everything and there is no doubt about it." "But how can you live in a place like this?" said Beetui, looking around the room and the chimneys outside the window with a disgusted expression. "I've lived in many worse places than this." "Perhaps. But you can't stay here. If you need money, we can give you some." "Thank you for your kindness, I'd better stay here." "You just want to be isolated from people?" "No. It's quiet, convenient, and undisturbed. Once you've lived in Datongpu, you'll know how precious it is to have a place of your own." "Very well, then you stay here. Can we—can we bring you something?" "It would be nice to have another coat." "Very good. Just tell Mr. Sandu if you need anything, and he will prepare it for you." At this point, she suddenly remembered that if he went to their family tailor to make clothes, it might cause some commotion, so she added : "Mr. Sandow will give you the address of his tailor." "Why don't you go to the shop of Mr. Walter, our tailor?" asked the boy. She couldn't say anything at once. "Aren't they there?" "Oh, of course, they are still there, but if you go to them now, I'm afraid it will take a long time to explain." She had to restrain herself as much as possible when she said that—she had to tell herself over and over again that anyone would find out the name of the Asybe tailor. "Oh. So I know." She continued to chat about some irrelevant topics, and after a while she was ready to leave. "We haven't told the family about you yet," she added before leaving. "We thought it best to wait until—when everything was clear from what Mr. Sandow said." Hearing this, an amused look flashed in the boy's eyes. In an instant, the two of them seemed to be in a group, laughing in their hearts with a common secret. "I understand." She turned to the door to bid him farewell.He stood in the middle of the room, watching her leave.And Mr. Sandow walked out with her.He looks lonely. She thought, "If he really was Bert, and now he's back, and I'm leaving him in a place like this, like he's just a guest—" she couldn't help but think of the boy so alone. Bear. She walked back to him, gently cupped his face with her gloved hands, and kissed him on the cheek. "Welcome back, child," she said.