Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

For some reason the pubs around the station were particularly disgusting, with a peculiar kind of squalor and a peculiar kind of pale pork pie. But what's worse than pork pie is the sandwich. There is such a deep-rooted idea in the UK that making sandwiches that look good, attractive, or delicious is a sinful thing done by foreigners. "Keep it dry." That's the deep-seated desire of all Britons. "Make it tough. Clean it once a week if you're going to keep it fresh." Eating sandwiches in pubs through Sunday lunchtimes is how Britons seek redemption from their national sins.None of them knew exactly what these evils were, nor did they want to know.Evil is not something one wishes to know about.But whatever those sins were, Brits got their fill when they forced themselves to eat sandwiches.

If there's anything worse than a sandwich, it's the sausage on the side.A long, lifeless strip, stuffed with cartilage, floating on top of a warm, indecipherable mass, with a plastic pin in the shape of a chef's hat: it feels like a souvenir of living in Stepney A certain cook in the district hated the world. When he died, no one remembered him. The only company with him was a cat lying on the armchair. Sausage is for those who know what their sin is and want to atone for it in a more aggressive way. "There's sure to be a better place than here," said Arthur. "There's no time," said Fanny, glancing at her watch. "My train leaves in half an hour."

They sat at a small, rickety table.There were a few dirty glasses on the table, some damp coasters with jokes printed on them.Arthur ordered a glass of tomato juice for Fanny and a pint of yellow pop for himself.I ordered another sausage.He didn't know why.He bought these just to have something to do before the bubbles in the glass quieted down. The bartender dunked Arthur's change into a puddle of beer on the bar, for which Arthur thanked him. "Okay," said Fanny, glancing at her watch again, "tell me what you have to say to me." She sounded seriously suspicious, and maybe she was, and Arthur's heart sank.She sat there, suddenly cold and guarded, and he couldn't think of any effective way to make Fanny accept that he could make it clear that he had sensed Fanny's mental rupture in some kind of out-of-body dream, and This kind of break is related to a fact that seems very absurd, that is, in order to open up a hyperspace passage, the earth was completely destroyed. He is the only person on the earth who knows about this matter, and he has seen the Vogon spaceship with his own eyes. Plus he wanted her so unbearably, physically and mentally, that he needed to sleep with her the fastest way a normal person could.

"Fanny," he began. "Would you like to buy some of our lottery tickets? It's very cheap. He glanced sharply upward. "We're raising money for Angie who's retired." "what?" "She needs an artificial kidney machine." Above him, a middle-aged woman bent over and looked at him. She was very thin and looked a bit old-fashioned. She was wearing old-fashioned clothes, had an old-fashioned wavy hairstyle, and showed an old-fashioned smile. She looked like she had just been beaten by some old-fashioned young The dog licked hard a few times.

She was holding a ticket book and a money jar. "Tenpence a piece," she said, "so you can even buy two without breaking your bank!" She giggled and sighed strangely.Apparently, nothing has made her happier than saying "it won't cost you money" since getting some US military supplies in WWII. "Er, all right, all right," said Arthur.He quickly took out a few coins from his pocket. With maddening slowness, a staid staging (if there was such a thing), the woman tore up the two tickets and handed them to Arthur. "I hope you win the lottery," she said with a sudden smile, "the prize is very good."

"Well, thanks," said Arthur, glancing at his watch as he stuffed the ticket roughly into his pocket. He turned to Fanny. The lottery woman also turned to Fanny. "What about you, young lady?" she said, "for Angie's artificial kidney machine. You know, she's retired. Want it?" Her smile was falling off her face, and she looked like she had to stop smiling soon. , otherwise the face will crack. "Well, look, this is for you," said Arthur, and offered her a fiftypence slip, hoping to let her go. "Oh, we're rich, aren't we?" said the woman, with a smile and a long sigh. "We're from London, aren't we?"

"No, it's nothing, really," he said with a wave of his hand, and she began to tear the five tickets, one by one, with a hideous deliberation. "Oh, but you've got to have your ticket," insisted the woman, "otherwise you can't say you've won. It's a good prize, you know. Very good." Arthur took the ticket and said thank you as quickly as possible. The woman turned to Fanny again. "Now, this..." "No!" Arthur almost screamed. "Those were bought for her," he explained, waving five new tickets. "Oh, I see, great!"

She gave them a disgusting smile. "Well, I hope you..." "Yes," interrupted Arthur, "thank you." The woman finally leaves them and walks to the next table.Arthur turned despairingly to Fanny, and was relieved to see her trembling with a quiet laugh. "Where did we go?" "You called me Fanny, and I was about to ask you not to call me that." "why?" She twirls a wooden swishstick in her tomato juice. "For the same reason I asked if you were my brother's friend. He's actually my half-brother. Only he calls me Fanny, and I don't like him for that."

"so you……" "Fenchurch." · "what?" "Finchitch." "Finchitch." She looked at him sternly. "Yeah," she said, "I'm looking at you like a lynx right now, and I'm going to see if you're going to ask me the same damn question that everyone is asking me to scream. If you I'd be pissed and disappointed to ask that. Plus I'd literally scream. So watch out." She smiled and tossed her hair slightly to the front, looking at him through it. "Oh," she said, "it's kind of unfair, isn't it?"

"right." "Ok." "Well," she said, laughing, "you can ask. I should be able to handle it. Better than you always call me Fanny." "If..." said Arthur. "We only have two tickets left, you see, since you were so generous the last time I approached you..." "What?" cried Arthur. The smiling woman with the wavy hair was holding a nearly sold-out ticket book and waving the last two tickets under his nose. "I think I should leave it up to you because the prizes are good." She wrinkled her nose confidently. "Nice prize. I know you like it. You know, it was supposed to be a retirement present for Angie. We wanted to give her..."

"A kidney machine, yes," said Arthur, "give." He gave her two more tenpence notes, and took the ticket. The woman seemed to think of something.The idea came to me very slowly.You can see the whole time it emerges, like a long wave on the beach. "Oh my God," she said, "I didn't bother you, did I?" She looked at them both uneasily. "No, nothing," said Arthur, "everything is all right." "Thank you," he added. "I said," the woman was relieved happily, "you are not... in love, are you?" "It's hard to say," Arthur said. "We haven't had a chance to talk yet." He stared at Finchchi.She smiled. The woman nodded with confidence. "I'll show you the prize later." She said and left. Arthur sighed and turned to the girl he could hardly tell he was in love with. She said, "You're going to ask me a question." "Yes," said Arthur. "We can come together," she said, "Am I..." "...Fenchurch Street Station..." Arthur added. "...in a bag in the lost and found..." they said together. "...discovered." They ended together. "The answer is," Fenchurch said, "no." "Okay," said Arthur. "I was conceived there." "what?" "I was there..." "Lost and found?" Arthur muttered. "No, of course not. Don't be stupid. What are my parents doing in the lost and found?" she said, looking taken aback by the thought. "Oh, I don't know," said Arthur hastily, "or..." "It's in the ticket queue." "The ticket seller..." "In the ticket queue. At least that's what they say. They won't go into details. They just say you can't imagine how boring it is to queue at the Fenchurch Street station." She sucked the tomato juice seriously and looked at her watch. Arthur giggled twice. "I'm leaving in a minute or two," said Finchitch. "No matter how special that thing you're anxious to tell me, you haven't started telling me yet." "Let me drive you to London, will you?" said Arthur. "I don't have anything to do today, Saturday, and I..." "No," Fenchurch said, "thanks. You're a nice guy, but no. I need to be alone for a few days." She shrugged and smiled. "But……" "You can tell me next time. I'll give you my phone number." When she wrote seven numbers on a piece of paper with a pencil and handed it to him, his heart was beating wildly. "Now let's relax." She smiled slightly, and Arthur's heart was so full that he felt like he was going to explode. "Fenchurch," he said, enjoying the feeling of saying the name, "I..." "A box..." said a drawn voice, "Kirsch, and, I know you'll like it, a record of Scotch bagpipes..." "Yes, thank you, very well," insisted Arthur. "I thought I should let you see them," said the woman with the wavy hair, "since you're from London..." She proudly held it up to Arthur for him to see.He saw that it was indeed a box of cherry brandy and a bagpipe record.indeed so. "I won't bother you now," she said, patting Arthur on the trembling shoulder, "but I know you'd like to see it." Arthur's eyes met Fenchurch's again, and suddenly he didn't know what to say.There was a moment between them that came and went, but the whole thing was ruined by that stupid, hateful woman. "Don't worry," Fenchurch said, watching him over her glass, "we'll have a chance to talk again." She took another sip of her tomato juice. "Perhaps," she added, "if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't be as good as we are now." She smiled softly, letting her hair fall in front again. This is absolutely true. He had to admit it was absolutely true.