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《明亮的心》#恐怖 A florist becomes obsessed with the strange, haunting red flowers she buys from an equally strange old lady… 一位花匠，对从一位同样古怪的老太太那里买来的奇异、令人毛骨悚然的红色花朵变得痴迷……

BY KAARON WARREN | PUBLISHED ON OCTOBER 16, 2024

I hadn’t seen the old lady with her pram full of flowers for months. In A Bunch of Love, we joked our takings were up; without her five-dollar bunches of flowers, people came in to us instead. My boss didn’t find it funny. 我已经好几个月没见到那位推着婴儿车卖花的老太太了。在“一束爱”花店里，我们还打趣说生意变好了；因为没有她五块钱一束的鲜花抢生意，顾客都来我们店里买花。不过我的老板可没觉得这有什么好笑。

“You know she steals those flowers? No outlay.” “你知道她偷那些花吗？不用花钱。”

“And spends the profit on bad men,” I said. I kind of loved the resourcefulness of the old lady. So when I saw her on the street corner, I stopped. I had five dollars in my wallet, “burning a hole,” as Jack Torrance said in The Shining. Mad money, meaningless in the grand scale of things. I worked in a shop full of flowers, could make myself a hundred-dollar bunch without flinching, but I liked the look of these. “还把赚来的钱都花在渣男身上。”我说。我有点喜欢老太太的机智。所以当我在街角看到她时，我停下了。我的钱包里有五美元，就像《闪灵》里杰克·托伦斯说的，“烧得口袋发烫”。这点小钱，在茫茫人世中根本无足轻重。我在花店工作，随时能给自己包个上百美元的花束眼都不眨，可偏偏就中意她这些野花。

“Which one you want?” she said. She pushed back the hood of her pram to reach a posy made of red flowers. Their petals were rose-shaped, with longer petals interspersed, these folded like fronds. The centre was a bright, unnatural red. “Lovely red like your shoes.” She wasn’t wrong. I called them my Dorothy shoes, ruby-red and almost magic. “要哪一束？”她说着，掀开婴儿车的遮布，取出一捧红色小花。花瓣形似玫瑰，其间点缀着几片修长的花瓣，蜷曲如蕨类嫩叶。花心是一种明艳得不自然的红。“这红色多衬你的鞋。”她说得没错。我管这双鞋叫“桃乐丝鞋”，红宝石般的颜色，仿佛带着魔力。

“Lovely carnations,” I said, because they had to be. “好漂亮的康乃馨啊。”我说道，毕竟也只能是康乃馨了。

“I call them Bright Hearts,” she said. 我管它们叫‘明亮的心’。”她说。

I took the bunch (she wouldn’t let me hold it until I paid her) and sniffed. The scent was subtle and sweet. “All from my garden,” she said. She didn’t need to go through the sales pitch but she seemed compelled to, a recording set to play and not done until all the words were spoken. 我接过那束花（她不让我拿着，除非我付钱给她），闻了闻。香气微妙而甜美。“都是我花园里的。”她说。她本不必推销，但似乎又不得不推销，就像一个录音机，必须播放到所有字句说完才停止。

She sighed as I walked away. 我走的时候，她叹了口气。

Back in the florist’s, I set the small bunch in water by the cash register. The boss was out for the day and I felt cheeky. The red flowers were gorgeous, and seemed darker now. My workmate said they stank, but she has a strange nose. We had so many queries about them I sold them for fifteen dollars, a tidy ten-dollar profit straight into my pocket. I bought the flowers; the money was mine. 回到花店，我把那束小花插进收银台旁的水瓶里。老板今天不在，我胆子大了些。那些红花美得惊人，此刻颜色似乎更深沉了些。同事说它们有股怪味，可她鼻子向来古怪。来打听这花的人络绎不绝，最后我以十五美元的价格卖了它们，净赚十美元，直接进了我的口袋。反正花是我买的，这钱自然归我。

A customer I hadn’t seen in ages rushed in just at closing, demanding red flowers like her friend bought. “They smell so beautiful!” she said. My workmate shook her head in disbelief. I guess it was the same as coriander; some people think it tastes of soap, others love it. “And they almost look like fairies, at a glance. Like those Conan Doyle fairies, you know?” and she lifted her heels, raised her arms, and for I moment I thought she was a fairy. 打烊时分，一位久未露面的老顾客匆匆冲进店里，要求买她朋友买的那种红花。“那香味太美妙了！”她说。同事在一旁难以置信地摇头。这大概就像香菜；有人觉得是肥皂味，有人却爱得要命。“而且乍看就像小精灵，你知道的，像柯南·道尔拍的那些精灵照片？”她踮起脚尖，扬起双臂，那一瞬间，我恍惚觉得她真成了精灵。

“We only had one bunch but we are trying to source some more,” I said. On a whim, I gave her an index card, asking for her details so we could call when the flowers came in. “我们只有一束，但我们正在设法再找一些。”我说。一时兴起，我给了她一张索引卡，让她留下联系方式，以便花到货时我们联系她。

“Thanks!” she said. She used to be a frequent customer but it had been months. “It’s good to see you,” I said. We’d been helping her get ready for her wedding but we hadn’t supplied the flowers and I saw no ring on her finger. I didn’t ask how it went. “谢谢！”她说。她以前是这里的常客，但已经好几个月没来了。“很高兴见到你，”我说。我们原本一直在帮她筹备婚礼用的花束，但最终并未接成那单生意，我看到她手上没有戒指。我没问结果怎么样。

Even so, she looked momentarily panicked, then said, “He walked out on me. I’ve been trying to fill my place with beautiful, bright things. Like those red flowers. The colour in the centre.” 即便如此，她看起来瞬间有些慌乱，然后说：“他抛弃了我。这段时间，我一直在用美好又明亮的东西填满我的屋子。就像那些红花，花心那种鲜艳的红色。”

I made her a posy from flowers we had in the store. I chose mostly aromatics, thinking she’d enjoy the scent. 我用店里有的花给她做了一个小花束。我主要选了香草，想着她会喜欢香味。

As I worked, she said, “What about you, did you and Jeremy have your baby?” 我整理花束时，她说：“你呢，你和杰里米有宝宝了吗？”

I’d forgotten I’d told her that in a fit of camaraderie. No one else apart from my boyfriend had known. I walked outside with her, not wanting my workmate to hear. 我忘了自己曾因一时意气相投跟她提起过这事。除了我男朋友，没人知道。我和她一起走出了店外，不想让同事听见。

“It was one of those phantom pregnancies. A ghost baby. At least I didn’t have to go through the birth. She disappeared at around three months. Jeremy and I were brokenhearted.” “是假性怀孕。就像怀了个幽灵宝宝。至少不用经历分娩的痛苦。三个月左右她就消失了。我和杰里米都心碎了。”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. I drew deep breaths to stop myself from crying. I barely thought about my baby. I was tempted to pile it on her, make her feel worse, tell her Jeremy was in a coma, in hospital, and I was alone. Instead, I said I was sorry about her fiancé leaving her and she left with the posy and me with another twenty dollars in my pocket. I wrote the flowers off in the “compost” column, as I always did. The boss never noticed and neither did the other workers. I figured I was saving those flowers from waste, I deserved a little reward. “真为你难过。”她说。我深吸一口气，忍住没哭。我几乎不去想那个孩子了。有那么一刻，我几乎想把痛苦全倾泻给她，告诉她杰里米正昏迷住院，告诉她我有多孤独，好让她更难受。但我只是说抱歉她未婚夫要离开她，她拿着花束走了，而我口袋里多了二十块钱。我把这些花记在“堆肥”那一栏，像往常一样。老板没注意到，其他工友也没。我觉得自己这是在拯救那些本该被丢弃的花，得点小报酬也是应该的。

I closed up the shop, sweeping up lost dirt, petals, and leaves, tidying the shelves. A bunch of yellow roses we’d try to sell cheap wouldn’t last another day so I took them with me to give to the nurses at the hospital. They looked after Jeremy so well. 我关上店门，清扫散落的泥土、花瓣和落叶，整理货架。那束我们准备降价处理的黄玫瑰撑不过明天了，我便带上它们准备送给医院的护士们。她们把杰里米照顾得无微不至。

I told Jeremy about the flowers and the old lady, trying to fill his day with interesting stories. 我告诉杰里米那些花和那位老妇人，试图用有趣的故事填满他的日子。

“I bought them for five bucks and sold them for fifteen. Not bad, ay? I can’t do it when the boss is around. And I don’t know how many red flowers the old woman can get. Or where she gets them from. Mission tomorrow: find out.” I rubbed my cheek; there was red dust all over my face. “I should jump in the shower, grubby after work.” I looked down at my red shoes, dirty from a day in the shop, and gave them a clean with my fingers. “五块钱买进，十五块卖出，还不赖吧？老板在的时候我可不敢这么干。而且我也不知道那老太太能弄来多少红花，更不清楚她从哪里搞来的。明天任务：查个水落石出。”我摸了摸脸颊；脸上全是红色花粉。 “我该冲个澡，下班后脏兮兮的。”低头看了眼在店里穿了一天的红鞋，我用手指抹了抹上面的灰尘。

“C’mon, let Daddy clean you up,” Jeremy had said last time I wore them. He loved me wearing red shoes; said it made me look like a baby doll. “来，让爸爸给你弄干净。”上次我穿的时候，杰里米这么说。他喜欢我穿红鞋；说这样让我看起来像个洋娃娃。

“Jeremy! Don’t. You know I hate that.” But I’d asked for it. I’d said the magic words, grubby and shower. “杰里米！别闹。你知道我讨厌这样。”但这都是我自找的。谁让我说了那两个触发词，脏兮兮和洗澡。

“Naughty little girl doesn’t love Daddy, needs a spanking.” “小坏蛋不爱爸爸，需要挨打。”

He always said he was only joking but I found it hard to laugh. 他总是说他只是开玩笑，但我发现很难笑出来。

He lay silent, eyes closed but sometimes blinking open. I said, “She asked about our baby. I didn’t tell her. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” I knew he felt bad. He felt terrible. It wasn’t his fault. He’d hallucinated. He’d thought I was his father coming at him, fists up, so he punched his father (me) he punched me (his father) so hard in the stomach we lost the baby. 他静静地躺着，双眼紧闭，偶尔会眨动睁开。我轻声说：“她问起我们的孩子了。我没告诉她。别担心，我不会对任何人说的。”我知道他很难受，痛苦万分。这不是他的错。当时他产生了幻觉，以为我是他父亲抡着拳头冲过来，于是他朝父亲（我）挥拳，朝我（他父亲）的腹部狠狠一击，我们就这样失去了孩子。

So we pretended it never happened. Better that way. 所以我们假装这一切从未发生。这样更好。

At home, I fed the cat and put my yellow flowers in a vase. But like my jilted customer, I wanted those Bright Hearts. 在家里，我喂了猫，把我的黄色花朵放进花瓶里。但就像我那个被抛弃的客户一样，我想要那些“明亮的心”。

I approached the old lady on her street corner early the next day, wanting to snap up all the red flowers she had. 第二天一早，我来到老太太街角，想一下子买光她所有的红花。

“I don’t have any today but I can get you some tonight. They only grow in one place.” “我今天没有，但我今晚可以给你弄些。它们只生长在一个地方。”

“Not your garden?” “不是你的花园吗？”

Her eyes shifted sideways. “Yes, in my garden. I’ll bring you some tomorrow.” 她的眼睛向旁边瞟了一眼。“是的，在我的花园里。我明天给你带些来。”

I finished work early that day, jumped in my car, and parked close by, watching her work. She was a master; slumping her shoulders, holding out those flowers sorrowfully, the other hand out for money. I wondered where she’d pinched these ones from. 那天我提前下班，跳上车停在不远处，暗中观察她的把戏。这老太太简直是个行家；耷拉着肩膀，凄凄惨惨地捧着那些花，另一只手却直勾勾地伸着要钱。我想知道她这些花是从哪儿弄来的。

A couple of police approached, and she packed up her pram and took off. I followed, thinking she’d get on a bus and I’d follow her, like I was some kind of spy. I practised how I’d describe it to Jeremy. He liked me to tell a story with a lot of detail. 这时几名警察走近，她立刻收拾好婴儿车溜之大吉。我尾随其后，盘算着她要是上公交车，我就跟上去，好像我是个间谍似的。我甚至练习起待会儿要怎么跟杰里米描述这一幕。他最爱人讲故事时事无巨细了。

She trudged past the main shopping centre and through the local park to the casino. I assumed they’d refuse her entry, but they let her in. I parked and followed her. The pram was at reception; I sneakily peeked in but nothing good was hidden. 她拖着婴儿车走过购物中心，穿过本地公园，来到了赌场。我原以为他们会拒绝她进门，但他们让她进去了。我停好车跟着她。婴儿车在接待处；我偷偷往里看了一眼，但没发现什么好东西。

I found her at the poker machines, pumping in her five-dollar notes. It didn’t take her long to lose the lot and she trudged back out, retrieving her pram and standing outside. She looked tired, drained. 我在扑克机旁找到了她，她把五美元的钞票一张张投进去。她很快就输光了，拖着疲惫的身体走出来，取回婴儿车，站在外面。她看起来很累，精神恍惚。

“Hi! Would you like a lift? Us flower girls have to stick together.” “嗨！要搭便车吗？我们花姑娘得抱团儿。”

She looked at me blankly, then said, “Red-shoe girl.” 她茫然地看着我，然后说：“红鞋女孩。”

I nodded. “If you show me where those red flowers grow, I’ll buy you dinner. And more. What do you say?” 我点了点头。“如果你带我去那些红花生长的地方，我会请你吃饭，还有更多。你说呢？”

She shrugged. “You give me fifty dollars,” she said. 她耸了耸肩。“你给我五十美元。”她说。

I did a quick calculation. “Sure.” If the flowers didn’t sell well I’d undercut her. Fair enough. But she put out her hand, pre-payment, so I gave her the fifty, already thinking what I’d tell Jeremy. I never could keep a secret from him. 我快速地算了一下。“好的。”如果那些花卖得不好，我会压价竞争。公平得很。但她伸出手，要求预付款，所以我给了她五十美元，同时已经在想我会怎么告诉杰里米。我永远无法对他保守秘密。

We folded her pram into the boot and her into the passenger seat. She wouldn’t tell me where we were headed, just turn left, turn right, turn right. We got lost, but I’m sure that was deliberate. She didn’t want me easily finding the place again, but that was too bad for her. My sense of direction is excellent. 我们把她的婴儿车折叠进后备箱，把她放进副驾驶座。她不会告诉我我们要去哪里，只是左转，右转，再右转。我们迷路了，但我确信那是故意的。她不希望我轻易找到那个地方，但这对她来说太不幸了。我的方向感极好。

We eventually arrived on the outskirts of town. A small dilapidated hut sat in front of a copse of what looked like apple trees. We left the pram in the car. 我们最终来到了镇子边缘。一栋破旧的小木屋坐落在看起来像苹果树的小树林前。我们把婴儿车留在了车里。

“This is my home,” she said, belatedly remembering the lie of her own garden. I managed not to laugh; she clearly did not live here. “这是我的家，”她说，这时才想起自己花园的谎言。我尽量没笑出声；她显然不住在这里。

The trees were stunted and twisted, but small apples littered the ground, so they were still fruitful. 这些树木矮小扭曲，但地上散落着小苹果，所以它们仍然结果实。

“Poison,” she said, but that was bullshit. She wanted them for herself. “有毒，”她说，但这纯属胡说。她想要这些苹果自己吃。

We reached a small courtyard, the remains of walls around it. It was laid with red bricks, professionally done some time ago. These bricks were inlaid with names: “The Collins Family.” “Julie and John Myers.” “Your Friendly Butcher.” Clearly a long-ago fundraiser where these people, once connected to their community and wanting to make a difference, paid to have their names here. They were surely all long dead, even the children. The bricks were securely in place although the grout was cracked, with grass growing through. 我们来到一个小庭院，周围是残破的墙壁。它铺设着红砖，看起来是多年前专业修建的。这些砖块上刻着名字：“科林斯一家。” “朱莉和约翰·迈尔斯。” “你友好的屠夫。” 显然是一次很久以前的募捐活动，当时这些与社区有关联、想要有所作为的人们，出钱让他们的名字刻在这里。他们肯定都已作古，连孩子们也早已不在。砖块虽然安放牢固，但灰泥已经开裂，草从缝隙中钻出。

And the red flowers. Some grew tall, their bright centres glorious even in the twilight. Others budded out like droplets of blood. 还有那些红花。有些长得高大，即使在黄昏中，它们明亮的中心也依然灿烂夺目。另一些则像血滴般含苞待放。

The old lady muttered as she started to pluck them. She told me, “You say a prayer for each one. These dead, lying underneath here, they’re an angry lot. Never happy. You have to say a prayer to them to keep them calm.” 老妇人一边开始采摘它们，一边嘟囔着。她告诉我：“你为每一朵祈祷。这些躺在这里的亡魂，它们是一群愤怒的存在。从不满足。你必须为它们祈祷，才能让它们平静。”

“These people aren’t actually buried here,” I said. “They just donated a brick.” A murmuring in the air filled the silence that followed. “这些人其实并没有埋葬在这里，”我说，“他们只是捐了一块砖。”空气中传来一阵低语，填补了随之而来的寂静。

She waved a flower at me. “You see? Bright Hearts. ‘But seek alone to hear the strange things said, By God to the bright hearts of those long dead.’ Yeats, he knew a thing or two.” 她向我挥了挥花。“你看？Bright Hearts。‘但只求独自聆听逝者心中上帝所说之奇事。’叶芝，他懂得不少。”

She kept plucking so I started, too, pretending to pray to keep her calm. She took about ten flowers, I took eight, which seemed fair. Even in the open air the scent was heady, almost like a good man’s aftershave, the sexy smell of a man who’s made an effort. 她不停地拔，我也跟着拔，假装祈祷以让她平静。她拿了大约十朵花，我拿了八朵，这似乎很公平。即使在露天中，那香气也浓烈，几乎像是一位好男人的古龙水，一位努力过后的男人的性感气息。

I drove her to an apartment block about twenty minutes from where I lived and dropped her off. She gave me a nod and said, “Be careful.” 我开车把她送到离我住处大约二十分钟车程的公寓楼，然后让她下车。她点点头，说：“小心。”

As soon as I got home, I fed the cat (always the first job), opened the windows to get some fresh air in, and found vases for my flowers. They were already wilting slightly and I imagined they were panting, like a thirsty dog. “Here you go,” I said, as if they could hear me. Their colour was so rich, so beautiful. I placed them on the desk in my bedroom, wanting to see them when I woke up. I’d sell them, sure, but I wanted to enjoy them first. 我一到家，就先喂了猫（总是第一件该做的事），打开了窗户让新鲜空气进来，然后找到了花瓶。它们已经有些枯萎，我仿佛看到它们在喘气，就像一只口渴的狗。“给你，”我说，仿佛它们能听见我。它们的颜色如此丰富，如此美丽。我把它们放在卧室的桌子上，想在我醒来时看到它们。当然，我会卖掉它们，但我先想好好欣赏它们。

I settled into bed, pulling just a sheet over me on this warm night. I slept fitfully, as I always did. I awoke to breathing in the otherwise quiet room. And a whistling sound that startled me. I reached for Jeremy, comforted by the sound of him, this deep, healthy breathing, but it wasn’t him. He wasn’t there. 我躺上床，在这温暖的夜晚只盖了一床薄被。我睡得断断续续，像往常一样。我醒来时，呼吸着房间里其他地方的寂静，还有一阵让我受惊的呼啸声。我伸手去够杰里米，被他声音的安慰所抚慰——那深沉而健康的呼吸——但那不是他。他不在那里。

Of course he wasn’t there. 当然他不在那里。

I woke up feeling guilty so called in to say I’d be late. I had to visit Jeremy, I said, and no one could argue against that. 我醒来时感到内疚，于是打电话请假说我会晚到。我说我要去看杰里米，没有人会反对。

The hospital was quiet in the morning. I went in to Jeremy’s ward. It was always quiet there; even when it was full of visitors, everybody spoke in low tones, comforting stories into the ears of our catatonic loved ones. 清晨的医院很安静。我走进杰里米的病房。那里总是很安静；即使挤满了访客，每个人都低声交谈，把安慰的故事讲进我们那些木僵的亲人的耳朵里。

“He’s doing well,” the nurse said. “Chatting away in his sleep as usual. Daddy this and Daddy that. Bit of a clean freak, was he?” She had two vases of flowers she placed on tables amongst the four patients in the ward. “他挺好的，”护士说。“睡梦中还在不停地说话，跟往常一样。这个那个都是爸爸。他是个爱干净的人，对吧？”她在病房里四个病人所在的桌子间放了两个花瓶。

“Did those just come in? I should have brought some with me. I’ll bring some after work tonight,” I said. I wouldn’t bring the red ones. “刚送来的吗？我应该带些来。我下班后带些来，”我说。我不会带红色的。

“That’d be lovely. We do love fresh flowers. I don’t like to leave them in the ward overnight, though. Superstitious, maybe. But it doesn’t hurt to take them out.” “那多好。我们很喜欢鲜花。不过我不喜欢把花留在病房过夜。可能有点迷信。但带出去也没关系。”

She told me softly flowers would breathe in your last breath and you didn’t want that. They drew in oxygen overnight, and when a person struggled for breath, it wasn’t a pretty sight. As if to demonstrate, Jeremy gave a great sigh, a deep rattle, then settled into measured breath again. My heart raced; I felt no comfort in this sound. I yearned for the gentle in-out breathing of the bright heart flowers. 她轻声告诉我，花会在你最后呼吸时呼吸，你不想那样。它们在夜间吸收氧气，当一个人呼吸困难时，那场面并不好看。仿佛要证明似的，杰里米发出一声长叹，带着深沉的咕噜声，然后又恢复了平稳的呼吸。我的心跳加速；这种声音让我毫无安慰。我渴望看到明亮的心花那温柔的一进一出呼吸。

“If you think about it,” the nurse said. “If you think about it, your first breath is in not out and your last breath is out not in.” “如果你仔细想想，”护士说。“如果你仔细想想，你的第一口气是吸不是呼，最后一口气是呼不是吸。”

I told her she wasn’t wrong. I wondered if the old lady had ever stolen flowers from the hospital. I know they throw out the ones from rooms where people have died; it seems a waste. 我跟她说她没错。我想那老太太是不是曾经从医院偷过花。我知道他们会把去世病人房间里的花扔掉；这看起来太浪费了。

I spent an hour at Jeremy’s bedside. Honestly, it was very boring. I almost missed his instructions, his directions, his criticisms. I’m sure he’d blame me for the head injury that put him here, but I wasn’t the one who picked the fight. I wasn’t one of his mates, egging him on. I was the one sitting at home with a rug on my lap watching British crime TV. Getting the phone call and thinking he was pranking me, making fun of me and my delight in crime when it wasn’t real. 我在杰里米的床边待了一个小时。说真的，这非常无聊。我差点错过他的指示，他的指导，他的批评。我确信他会为这次头部受伤把我送来这里而责怪我，但我不是那个挑起争端的人。我不是他的一伙人，怂恿他。我是那个在家，把地毯放在膝盖上看英国犯罪电视节目的人。接到电话，以为他在捉弄我，取笑我，取笑我对犯罪的那种热衷，而那根本不是真的。

I told him about the red flowers, how I could sell them and make a bit of money, and I could have sworn he said, “Anything for nothing, right?” 我告诉他关于那些红花，说我可以卖掉它们赚点钱，而且我确信他说：“不劳而获，对吧？”

“Daddy’ll clean you up,” I thought he said, soft and scratchy. Of course he didn’t say any of it. It was the echo of him, my memory. It still hurt, though. “爸爸会帮你清理干净，”我以为是这么说的，声音柔和而沙哑。当然，他什么也没说。那是他的回声，我的记忆。尽管如此，它仍然让我感到痛苦。

I kept those flowers until they rotted, the breathing fading as they did. I know I should have sold them; I did sell one single bloom to my jilted customer, but only because she begged me. “My god, the smell,” she said, “the scent of them.” 我一直留着那些花，直到它们腐烂，呼吸随着它们的消逝而渐渐消失。我知道我应该卖掉它们；我确实卖了一朵花给我的被抛弃的顾客，但那只是因为她恳求我。“我的天，这香味，”她说，“它们的香气。”

I had to agree. It was so sweet, it filled the house. 我不得不同意。它太甜了，充满了整个房子。

The old lady came into the shop, shoving her pram inside and knocking over pots, banging into the shelves we had near the door. She honestly didn’t care and I had to admire that. 老太太走进了商店，把婴儿车推进去，撞翻了花盆，撞到了门边附近的架子。她真的不在乎，我不得不佩服这一点。

“More have grown. You drive me and you can have some.” I nodded; after work, I told her. But I took a long lunch (a very long lunch) and I went out on my own. I wanted to experience it in silence, without her jumping at me, demanding. Praying. “更多的人长大了。你带我去，你可以有一些。”我点了点头；下班后，我告诉她。但我吃了一个很长的午餐（一个非常长的午餐），然后独自出门。我想在沉默中体验它，不让她跳起来，要求。祈祷。

I picked my way through the trees, bending to collect fallen fruit as I went, tiny apples I knew Jeremy would love. I’d pile them by his bedside. The nurses would like them. 我穿过树林，弯腰收集路边的落果，那些小小的苹果我知道杰里米会喜欢。我会把它们堆在他的床边。护士们会喜欢它们的。

The old lady hadn’t been wrong. The courtyard was red with the flowers. Again, some of them peeked up like small globules of blood, others grew tall. One in the centre was almost as tall as my knee and I couldn’t imagine how it had grown so fast. I knelt down to smell it. God. God. I almost fell over with it. This one was almost sweaty, fresh, hardworking-man sweaty. I plucked it, tried to pluck it but the roots ran deep. I dug with my fingernails, determined to have this flower, and gently tugged it out of the ground, feeling a tearing. The flower instantly withered and died, turning to dust in my palm. I grunted in disgust. Another grew nearby almost as tall and I found a discarded piece of old metal to help remove the bricks so I could get to it without killing it. My eyes itched from pollen and my fingers were covered with dead-flower dust. 老太太说得没错。院子里开满了红花。有些像小小的血珠般探出头来，有些则长得高高的。中间有一株几乎和我膝盖一样高，我简直无法想象它怎么长得这么快。我跪下来闻了闻。天哪。天哪。差点被这花绊倒。这花几乎带着汗水的气息，新鲜、勤劳的汗水。我伸手去摘，试着拔，但根系扎得很深。我用指甲挖，决心要得到这株花，然后轻轻把它从土里拔出来，感觉到一阵撕裂。那花瞬间枯萎死去，在我掌心化为尘埃。我厌恶地咕哝了一声。旁边又长出一株几乎一样高，我找来一块废弃的金属片帮忙搬开砖块，这样我就不会伤害到它。我的眼睛被花粉痒得难受，手指上沾满了死花的尘埃。

I levered four of the bricks out carefully, then dug down. This one came easily, its roots pulling out of the sandy ground, coming out dripping red. I took off the light jacket I was wearing and laid it on the ground so I could place this flower on it. I heard a sigh, and a whistle, and saw another flower had grown tall. I dug up the bricks around that one as well, and around the next, and the next, until I had a dozen tall red flowers resting on my jacket. I felt shadows upon me and shivered, not only because I was without my jacket. Tall shadows shaded me, as if the trees of the copse had taken leg and walked closer. When I turned, though, figures stood, clustered together, breathing in out in out and I fell backwards, landing on the sharp corner of one of the bricks and cutting the mount of Venus on my left hand. 我小心地撬出了四块砖，然后向下挖掘。这一块很轻易就被挖了出来，它的根须从沙质土壤中拔出，带着红色的汁液渗出。我脱下身上的轻便夹克，铺在地上，好让这朵花能够放在上面。我听到一声叹息，接着是哨声响起，我看到另一朵花已经长得很高了。我又挖出了围绕那朵花的砖块，接着是下一朵，再下一朵，直到我的一件夹克上停歇着十二朵高大的红花。我感到阴影笼罩着我，不禁打了个寒颤，不仅是因为我脱了夹克。高大的阴影遮蔽着我，仿佛林中的树木长出了腿，走得更近了。当我转身时，却看到几个身影站立着，挤在一起，呼吸着，我向后倒去，落在了一块砖的尖锐角落上，割伤了我左手上的维纳斯山丘。

There was a menace about them, but I’d keep picking the flowers as long as they kept growing. 它们带着威胁的气息，但我只要它们还在生长，就会继续采摘这些花朵。

“I told you,” the old woman said. She was sweaty, dirty, without her pram, as if she’d raced to be here as fast as she was capable. “You need to pray to them. They are always angry.” “我告诉过你，”老妇人说。她满头大汗，满脸污垢，没有婴儿车，仿佛是拼尽全力才赶到这里。“你需要向它们祈祷。它们总是很生气。”

She fell to her knees, muttering, but the figures didn’t fade. 她跪倒在地，喃喃自语，但那些身影并没有消失。

Another flower, and another, and I’d lifted two dozen bricks before the woman’s sobbing finally made me stop. 又一朵花，又一朵，在我停下来之前，我已经搬了两打砖块。

“Come on,” I said. “We’ll go.” “快点，”我说。“我们走吧。”

I took the flowers with me. The sound of them in the car was almost deafening, as if men were sucking oxygen in an airless place, desperately trying to draw breath. 我带着那些花。它们在车里的声音几乎震耳欲聋，就像在无氧的地方，人们拼命地吸氧。

The noise of them. 它们的声音。

They flicker-imaged in the corner of my eye, here and gone. I felt surrounded, tricked, I tripped over my feet climbing stairs, I slipped in the shower, I became the clumsy idiot Jeremy had always said I was. I couldn’t just throw the flowers out, though. I didn’t think that was a solution. 它们在我眼角一闪而过，忽明忽灭。我感觉自己被包围了，被欺骗了，我爬楼梯时绊倒了脚，我在淋浴时滑倒了，我成了杰里米一直说我那样的笨蛋。但我不能随便扔掉这些花。我觉得那不是解决办法。

I did an image search on those flowers and here’s what I found: people saying they grow from the heart of a person buried alive. They’ve been found all over the world. Over graves, in collapsed buildings, in the dirt floor of huts where victims were buried in the cellars. These red flowers, growing lush and loud. If they were collected early in the morning they’d be shining with dew, like fresh tears. 我在网上搜索了这些花，结果是这样的：有人说它们是从活埋的人的心脏里长出来的。它们在世界各地都有发现。在坟墓上，在坍塌的建筑中，在受害者被埋在地下室的地窖里的小土屋里。这些红色的花，长得茂盛而喧闹。如果它们在清晨被采集，就会闪耀着露水，像新鲜的泪水。

The old lady knew but she wasn’t telling, and I wasn’t about to go dig under the courtyard for fear of what I’d find. I knew what I’d find; flowers growing from the chests of the dead. Is that what they wanted? To be discovered? To tell their story, be seen? To be found? In Victorian times people were so terrified of being buried alive, some were buried with a whistle to blow. Had these poor souls whistled, whistled, whistled until they had no breath left? 老太太心里明白，但她没说出口，我也不打算去挖庭院底下，免得看到我该看的东西。我知道我会看到什么；是长在死人胸腔里的花。他们想要这样吗？想要被发现？想要讲述他们的故事，被人看见？想要被找到？维多利亚时代的人们如此害怕被活埋，有些人被埋葬时嘴里还塞着哨子。这些可怜的灵魂是否一直吹着哨子，吹啊吹，直到气力耗尽？

I made an anonymous call to the police and here’s what they found. An old water tank beneath the ground, and a dozen skeletons inside it, resting in a dark, old sludge the colour of my flowers. They don’t know who; from the old asylum, they think. Forgotten people, not missed. 我匿名报警，以下是警方查到的结果。地下有一个旧水箱，里面装着一打骨架，它们静静地躺在颜色和我花一样的黑暗陈腐污泥中。他们不知道是谁；据推测，来自旧精神病院。被遗忘的人，无人挂念。

It was all over the media. They uncovered the top of the tank and cut it open. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to crawl in, torch in hand, and try to find my way. They cut it open like a can of sardines, lifted the lid off. The metal was rusty and crumbling at the edges. We watched the whole thing live on television, me, the nurses, and Jeremy. 这件事传遍了媒体。他们挖开了水箱顶部，把它剖开。我不怪他们。我也不想拿着火把爬进去，试图寻找出路。他们像开罐头一样把水箱剖开，掀掉了盖子。金属已经锈迹斑斑，边缘开始剥落。我和护士们、杰里米一起通过电视直播看着整个过程。

“I hope no one cuts themselves,” a nurse said. “We’d have to cut an arm off if they did.” “希望没人割伤自己，”一位护士说。“要是割伤了，我们得把胳膊给截下来。”

Twelve skeletons. Two small ones curled up together in the corner. Three larger, pressed together. One alone, curled almost into a ball. 十二具骷髅。两具小的蜷缩在角落里。三具大的挤在一起。一具孤零零的，几乎蜷缩成一个球。

The rest were piled on top of each other. One had reached the door handle of the water tank and that’s where he stayed. The rest had tumbled into a pile, drawing the last air together, perhaps, one last mutual breath. 其他的则叠在一起。有一具已经够到了水箱的门把手，就停在那里。其他的则滚作一团，或许，最后一次相互呼吸，将最后一丝空气聚在一起。

“How people die is how they stay,” I said. My limbs twisted to mimic some of those positions. “人死的方式就是他们留存的方式，”我说。我的四肢扭曲，模仿着那些姿势。

“Dirty girl,” Jeremy rasped. His eyes closed, his mouth open the smallest bit. I helped him shift onto his side, mimicking the skeletons, curling him up into a ball, making him comfortable. “脏女孩，”杰里米沙哑地说。他的眼睛闭着，嘴巴微微张开。我帮他侧过身，模仿着骷髅，把他蜷缩成一个球，让他舒服些。

My flowers shed their petals and withered. The dust of them lay thick on the table and I swept it up, put it into a plastic container until I decided what to do. 我的花儿掉落了花瓣，枯萎了。它们厚厚的尘土撒在桌子上，我扫起来，放进一个塑料容器里，直到我决定该怎么做。

The breathing faded and in the silence I felt alone. 呼吸渐渐消失，在寂静中我感到孤独。

And Jeremy. Jeremy. Stuck in his body. Buried alive in it. He wouldn’t be getting out. He’d die, and they’d bury him, and his flower would grow. I didn’t want that for him. I didn’t want him tortured, dragged out, alive when he should be set free. 还有杰里米。杰里米。被困在他的身体里。活埋在他里面。他出不来了。他会死，他们把他埋葬，而他的花儿会继续生长。我不想那样对他。我不想让他受折磨，被拖出来，活生生地，而他却应该被释放。

He needed to be set free. 他需要被释放。

I took a day trip out to the river, where I knew a large cluster of flowering caster oil plants grew. I loved those red flowers. Jeremy and I had been out here a year ago, a few months before his accident. Swimming and actually enjoying ourselves, until he suddenly couldn’t breathe. The doctors called it an asthma attack. But I figured out he was reacting to the flowers of the castor oil plant. We never have them in the florist. They’re on the “sorry, but no” list. 我到河边去了一趟，我知道那里长着一大片开花的蓖麻。我喜欢那些红花。一年前，就在杰里米出事前几个月，我和杰里米一起来过这里。我们游泳，真正地享受着，直到他突然无法呼吸。医生说是哮喘发作。但我猜出他是对蓖麻花过敏。花店从来不会有它们。它们在“抱歉，不卖”的清单上。

I knew better than to breathe them in. Wearing gloves and a mask, I collected a good dozen bloom-covered branches. They looked enough like bottlebrush the hospital staff would be fooled. I put the branches into a plastic box, lidded it, put that into the trunk of my car. I picked some nice yellow wattle on the way, for contrast. 我知道不该吸入它们。戴上手套和口罩，我收集了一打多覆盖着花朵的树枝。它们看起来很像瓶刷，医院的员工会以为这是真的。我把树枝放进一个塑料盒里，盖上盖子，然后放进汽车后备箱。我在路上还摘了一些漂亮的金黄色金合欢花，用来做对比。

I’d brought a vase from home because I didn’t want the nurses dealing with the flowers. I have so many, anything with a crack or a chip would otherwise be thrown out at the florist, and that seemed a waste. I chose a bright red one to match, and delivered them just before visiting hours finished. 我从家里带了一个花瓶，因为我不想让护士们处理这些花。我有很多花，任何有裂缝或碎片的都会被花店扔掉，这似乎是浪费。我选了一个明亮的红色花瓶来搭配，在探视时间结束前送到了病房。

“These are natives,” I told the nurse. “They’re fine to stay in the room with him.” I’d made sure the superstitious nurse wasn’t rostered on, and the rest didn’t seem to care as much. “这些是本地植物，”我告诉护士。“它们可以和他一起待在房间里。”我确保那个迷信的护士没有排班，其他的似乎也不太在意。

“They look gorgeous!” the nurse said, and they did. “它们看起来太美了！”护士说，它们确实很美。

I kept my phone under the front counter while I worked. The boss had kids so she knew the importance of always being contactable. The call came at 2:30. They’d tried and tried, but he was gone. An asthma attack, they said. 我把手机放在柜台下边工作。老板有孩子，她知道随时保持联系的重要性。电话是下午两点三十分打来的。他们试了很多次，但他还是不见了。他们说，是哮喘发作。

I genuinely collapsed, shocked and more grief-struck than I thought I’d be. The boss gave me money for a taxi. “You shouldn’t drive,” she said, but I did drive and I kept the money. 我真是崩溃了，震惊，比我预想的更悲痛。老板给了我钱叫出租车。“你不该开车，”她说，但我还是开车了，而且把钱留下了。

I told the nurses to keep everything in his room except for the flowers. The chocolate and grapes he couldn’t eat but his manager had sent anyway. Porno mags his friends left, beer his friends left. They never stayed and they wouldn’t miss him. 我让护士们除了花之外，把他的房间里的一切都保留着。那些他吃不了的可可和葡萄，还是他经理硬要送来的。他朋友留下的色情杂志，啤酒，他们从没留下，也不会为他难过。

On top of that, I got the sack. The rest of the team threw me under the bus when the boss properly checked the books, blamed those “compost” write-offs on me, and the “missing stock,” and the under-the-counter sales. I actually didn’t care; Jeremy had some good savings and he’d want me to spend it. 更糟的是，我被解雇了。团队的其他人趁老板仔细核查账目时，把我推下了水，把那些“垃圾”冲销、失踪的库存、私下销售的责任都推到我身上。其实我并不在乎；杰里米有些不错的储蓄，他会希望我花掉它们。

He’d want me to be happy. 他会希望我快乐。

For months after I didn’t know what to do with my spare time. I worked at another florist. I gave away the cat; it was his and still smelled of him. I visited Jeremy’s grave and no flowers grew, for which I hoped he’d thank me. At night in bed I moved myself into position after position, mimicking the skeletons, the bright hearts. It was really quite comfortable. The old lady spent some time in jail, arrested again for flower theft. This gave me a free run at the courtyard flowers but none grew anymore; only the grass and the red dust remained. 接下来的几个月，我不知道该怎么打发空闲时间。我在另一家花店工作。我把猫送人了；那是他的，还留着他的气味。我去了杰里米的墓地，那里没有花生长出来，为此我希望他能感谢我。晚上躺在床上，我一次次调整自己的姿势，模仿着骨架，那些明亮的“心”。这真挺舒服的。那位老太太进过监狱，再次因偷花被捕。这让我可以自由地采摘庭院里的花，但它们再也长不出来了；只剩下草和红尘。

I found it comforting, though, and would sit by myself, listening. And then I heard whistling, and followed it, and found a rusted sign saying “secondary water storage.” There was another tank, with no courtyard built over it, just layers of dirt and stone. Globules of red pressed through the black dirt and so I sat and called down to make them angry about all they’d lost in life. All they’d missed by being buried alive, with no one to care. Even as I watched, the flowers pushed up like mushrooms, growing into my waiting hands. 我倒是觉得这挺让人安慰的，于是独自一人坐下来，静静听着。接着我听到了哨声，便跟了上去，发现一个生锈的牌子，上面写着“二级储水”。那里还有另一个水箱，上面没有建院子，只有一层层泥土和石头。红点从黑土中渗出，我便坐下来，对着它们喊，为它们一生中失去的一切感到愤怒。为它们被活埋，无人关心的那些错过的时光感到愤怒。就在我看着的时候，那些花像蘑菇一样冒了出来，长进了我的等待的手中。

You can find me online at RedFlowersandShoes.com. 你可以在 RedFlowersandShoes.com 上找到我。

Pressed blooms a speciality. 特色压花。