"Ian R. Macleod - Grownups" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

GROWNUPS
By Ian R. MacLeod

New British writer Ian R. MacLeod has been one of the most talked-about young
writers of the тАШ90s, publishing a slew of strong stories in the first three years of the
decade in Interzone, Isaac AsimovтАЩs Science Fiction Magazine, Weird Tales,
Amaz-ing, and The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, among other markets.
Several of those stories made the cut for one or another of the various тАЬBest of the
YearтАЭ anthologies, including appearances here in our Eight and Ninth Annual
Collections. In 1990, in fact, he appeared in three different Best of the Year
anthologies with three different stories, certainly a rare distinction. He has yet to
produce a novel, but it is being eagerly awaited by genre insiders, and as he has
recently given up his day job to write full-time; perhaps we wonтАЩt have long to wait.
MacLeod is in his early thirties, and lives with his wife and baby daughter in the
West Midlands of England. In the disquieting story that follows, he takes us to a
world thatтАЩs very like our ownтАФexcept for all the ways that count the mostтАФto
relate one of the most bizarre coming-of-age stories ever written.

****

Bobby finally got around to asking Mum where babies came from on the evening of
his seventh birthday. It had been hot all day, and the grownups and a few of the
older children who had come to his party were still outside on the lawn. He could
hear their talk and evening birdsong through his open window as Mum closed the
curtains. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. SheтАЩd been drinking since the first
guests arrived before lunch and her breath smelt like windfall apples. Now seemed as
a good a time as any. As she turned towards the door, he asked his question. It
came out as a whisper, but she heard, and frowned for a moment before she smiled.

тАЬYou children always want to know too soon,тАЭ she said. тАЬI was the same,
believe me, Bobby. But you must be patient. You really must.тАЭ

Bobby knew enough about grownups to realize that it was unwise to push too
hard. So he forced himself to yawn and blink slowly so she would think he was truly
sleepy. She patted his hand.

After his door had clicked shut, after her footsteps had padded down the
stairs, Bobby slid out of bed. Ignoring the presents piled in the corner by the
closetтАФrobots with sparking eyes, doll soldiers, and submarinesтАФhe peered from
the window. They lived at the edge of town, where rooftops dwindled to green hills
and the silver curl of the river. He watched Mum emerge from the French windows
onto the wide lawn below. She stopped to say something to Dad as he sat lazing in a
deckchair with the other men, a beercan propped against his crotch. Then she took a
taper from the urn beside the barbecue and touched it to the coals. She proceeded to
light the lanterns hanging from the boughs of the cherry trees.

The whole garden filled with stars. After she had lit the last lantern, Mum put
the taper to her mouth and extinguished it with her tongue. Then she rejoined the
women gossiping on the white wrought iron chairs. The re-maining children were all
leaving for home. Cars were starting up, turning out from the shaded drive. Bobby