I like them. Laden with all these new possessions, I go and sit at a table. And don’t ask me what the table was like because this was some time ago and I can’t remember. It was probably round.
All right.
So let me give you the layout. Me sitting at the table. On my left, the newspaper. On my right, the cup of coffee. In the middle of the table, the packet of biscuits.
I see it perfectly.
What you don’t see, said Arthur, because I haven’t mentioned him yet, is the guy sitting at the table already. He is sitting there opposite me.
What’s he like?
Perfectly ordinary. Briefcase. Business suit. He didn’t look, said Arthur, as if he was about to do anything weird.
Ah. I know the type. What did he do?
He did this. He leaned across the table, picked up the packet of biscuits, tore it open, took one out, and…
What?
Ate it.
What?
He ate it.
Fenchurch looked at him in astonishment. What on Earth did you do?
Well, in the circumstances I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do. I was compelled, said Arthur, to ignore it.
What? Why?
Well, it’s not the sort of thing you’re trained for is it? I searched my soul, and discovered that there was nothing anywhere in my upbringing, experience or even primal instincts to tell me how to react to someone who has quite simply, calmly, sitting right there in front of me, stolen one of my biscuits.
Well, you could… Fenchurch thought about it. I must say I’m not sure what I would have done either. So what happened?
I stared furiously at the crossword, said Arthur. Couldn’t do a single clue, took a sip of coffee, it was too hot to drink, so there was nothing for it. I braced myself. I took a biscuit, trying very hard not to notice, he added, that the packet was already mysteriously open…
But you’re fighting back, taking a tough line.
After my fashion, yes. I ate the biscuit. I ate it very deliberately and visibly, so that he would have no doubt as to what it was I was doing. When I eat a biscuit, Arthur said, it stays eaten.
So what did he do?
Took another one. Honestly, insisted Arthur, this is exactly what happened. He took another biscuit, he ate it. Clear as daylight. Certain as we are sitting on the ground.
Fenchurch stirred uncomfortably.
And the problem was, said Arthur, that having not said anything the first time, it was somehow even more difficult to broach the subject the second time around. What do you say? “Excuse me… I couldn’t help noticing, er…” Doesn’t work. No, I ignored it with, if anything, even more vigour than previously.
My man…
“我喜欢那种饼干。总之我抱着那堆新买的东西，我在一张桌子旁边坐下。不要再问我桌子是什么样的了因为这是有一阵子之前的事儿了我记不太清楚。那张桌子可能是圆的。”
“好吧。”
“那么让我给你个大致布局。我，坐在桌子旁。我的左边，是报纸。我的右边，是那杯咖啡。在桌子的中间，是那包饼干。”
“我看的很清楚了。”
“你还看不见的那个人，”阿瑟说，“——因为我刚才没提到他——就是那个已经坐在桌旁的家伙。他就坐在我的对面。”
“他长啥样？”
“极度的普通。公事包。西装。他看上去根本不像，”阿瑟说，“要去做什么怪事儿的人。”
“啊，我知道这种人。他做了啥？”
“他做了这些：他凑过身来，拿起了那包饼干，把它撕开，拿出一块，然后……”
“然后怎么了？”
“吃了。”
“啥？”
“他吃了那块饼干。”
芬琪诗惊讶地看着他。“天啊那你到底做了啥？”
“怎么说呢，在那种情境之下我做了任何一名热血英国人都会做的事。我被迫，”阿瑟说，“无视它。”
“什么？为什么？”
“好吧，这不是那种你被培养出来面对的事儿，是不？我探寻我的灵魂，发现我的教养、经历甚至最初本能中，哪儿都没有东西能告诉我面对一个就坐在我前面的人如此简单、镇定地偷我的饼干该如何反应”
“好吧，你可以……”芬琪诗考虑着。“我得说，其实我也不知道自己当时会干什么。那么发生了啥？”
“我冒着怒火的双眼盯着填字游戏，”阿瑟说。“根本就想不出一点头绪，嘬了一口咖啡，又太烫了，所以我没别的可干。我就振作起来。我拿了块饼干，竭力不使自己注意到，”他补充说，“那个包装早已神秘地被拆开了。”
“但你反击了，采取了‘强硬姿态’。”
“勉勉强强算是吧。我吃了那块饼干。我故意吃得非常明显，好让他不会怀疑我在做什么。当我吃了一块饼干，”阿瑟说，“那饼干就被吃了。”
“那么他做了什么？”
“又拿了一块饼干。说实在的，”阿瑟坚持道，“这就是真正发生的事儿。他又拿了一块饼干，他吃了它。就像青天白日一样清楚。就像我们坐在大地上一样明确。”
芬琪诗不舒服地扭动着。
“而问题是，”阿瑟说，“一旦一开始没有谈这个问题，不知怎的你后面就很难再开口了。你该说啥？‘对不起……我不禁注意到……呃……’没用的。不，我无视掉这一切，甚至可以说比先前运用了更多的精力。”
“我亲爱的……”