Cobwebs hang lazily from the cracked plaster ceilings. Dust has piled thickly on the paper. Books are placed everywhere, on tall shelves and low shelves, in unsteady stacks on floor, coffee table, lounge and piano, in boxes, cupboards and wardrobes.
蜘蛛网懒洋洋地挂在破裂的石膏天花板上。纸上积满了厚厚的灰尘。书籍无处不在，放在高高的书架和低矮的书架上，不稳定的书架放在地板上、咖啡桌上、休息室和钢琴上，放在箱子里、橱柜里和衣柜里。
Loud strikes at the front door shatters the calm. The writer sighs, starts to lay down her pen, but with a shake of her head resumes writing. The over-enthusiastic knocking at the door is repeated. The house is vibrated: millions of tiny dust particles shiver and twirl chaotically through the air, fragments of plaster tremble along the cracks, spiders hurry to their corners. She hears footsteps pass the curtained window in front of her, the frail and dusted back gate opens with only a brief creak.
大声的撞击打破了前门的宁静。作者叹了口气，开始放下笔，但是摇了摇头，继续写作。过分热情的敲门声又重复了一遍。房子振动起来：数以百万计的微小尘埃在空气中混乱地颤动和旋转，灰泥碎片沿着裂缝颤抖，蜘蛛们急忙跑到角落里。她听到有脚步声从她前面挂着帘子的窗户旁边走过，那扇脆弱的灰尘覆盖的后门开启时只发出短暂的吱吱声。
A reading lamp casts a single bright circle on the green cloth of the dining table, and a woman’s head bent low over them. Her hair crinkles like tarnished metal. As she writes, her brown arm moves slowly across the circle of light, the faint scratching of her pen is the only sound in the room.
一盏台灯在餐桌的绿布上投射出一个明亮的圆圈，一个女人低着头俯视着它们。她的头发像失去光泽的金属一样起皱。在她写作的时候，她棕色的手臂缓慢地划过光圈，房间里唯一的声音就是她的笔发出的微弱的刮擦声。
As she opens the back door, she finds there stands a young man on her threshold, who is from the flats across the road. He’s storing things in her garage.
当她打开后门时，她发现门口站着一个年轻人，他来自马路对面的公寓。他把东西存放在她的车库里。
Pushing back her chair, she stands rigidly, revealing the red glow of a heater in the dark cave under the table, and walks slowly through the cold kitchen to the back door.
她把椅子往后推了推，僵硬地站了起来，露出桌子下面黑暗洞穴里加热器发出的红光，慢慢地穿过冰冷的厨房走到后门。
“Hi, Mrs Embley. I just want to ask if you’d mind if I put up a few shelves in the shed?”
“你好，安布利夫人。我只是想问问你是否介意我在小屋里放几个架子？”
Shelves… timber… nails… hammering… noise!
架子…木材…钉子…锤击…噪音！
“Oh, Donald is back, isn’t he?”
“哦，唐纳德回来了，是不是？”
“Uh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea: Donald wouldn’t like it.”
“呃，不，我不认为这是个好主意，唐纳德不会喜欢的。”
“Of course. I told you he has just gone up the street.”
“当然。我告诉过你，他刚刚上了街。”
“Wait! It really would be best if you didn’t disturb us in the house. Donald needs peace and quiet for his work, you see. Just come and go to the garage, as you want, no need to ask. Alright?”
“等等！你最好不要在家里打扰我们。你知道，唐纳德的工作需要平静和安宁。只要来去车库就行了，你想去就去，不用问。好吗？”
“Fair enough, “he nods, and disappears down the side path. She shivers a little, glancing briefly at the vaguely familiar wildness of the yard before shutting and bolting the door. Donald used to look after it, but she no longer remembers how long since he went, nowhere he said he was going. Last winter? Or the one before?
“很公平，”他点点头，消失在小路上。她微微颤抖了一下，瞥了一眼院子里那种模糊而熟悉的野性，然后关上了门闩。唐纳德过去常常照看它，但她不记得他离开多久了，也不记得他说过要去哪里。去年冬天？还是之前的那个？
“Yeah, haven’t seen him, but OK. It doesn’t matter. See you.”
“是啊，没见过他，不过还好。没关系。再见。”
A cup of tea, she thinks, then on to that troublesome chapter five. Searching vainly for biscuits, she curses gently. Such a waste of time, shopping. Perhaps she’ll just go to the petrol station on the corner again; they have a few things, and they certainly have biscuits.
一杯茶，她想，然后开始讨论令人烦恼的第五章。她徒劳地寻找着饼干，温柔地咒骂着。购物真是浪费时间。也许她会再次去街角的加油站；他们有一些东西，而且他们肯定有饼干。
She fetches her coat from the wardrobe. The hat she wears on her head is an old gardening one, but the mirror door, hanging by a hinge, shows only a haggard and lanky sight of her figure, and she leaves the house.
她从衣橱里取出外套。她头上戴的帽子是一顶旧的园艺帽，但是挂在铰链上的镜门只显示出她身材的憔悴和瘦长，然后她离开了房子。
Now for chapter five! Tea and biscuits at her hand, the heater at her feet, silence and the night screen like a protective curtain all around her. She turns to the beginning to reread what she has finished and regain the imagined world.
现在来看第五章！茶和饼干在她手里，暖气在她脚边，寂静无声，夜幕像一个保
Returning ten minutes later with her stopgap shopping, she remembers to clear the mailbox. She skims through the pile of letters and finds that most are sent to her for manuscripts. These publishers can be so pushy. She’ll deal with them later.
十分钟后回来，带着她的权宜之计去购物，她记得清理邮箱。她在一堆信件中翻找，发现大多数都是为了手稿而寄给她的。这些出版商可能是如此的咄咄逼人。她以后会处理的。
The first paragraph is only a working one, but it has, she feels, a good title to it: When Shadows Fall, by Donald Embley.
第一段只是一个工作段落，但她觉得它有一个很好的标题：当阴影落下，唐纳德·恩布利。
护性的幕布围绕着她.她转身开始重读她已经完成的作品,重新获得想象中的世界.
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