The workshop inside the clock tower smells of oil and warm metal. Fatou climbs the last spiral of stairs with a paper bag of lunch in one hand. The dial above her ticks like a very patient heart.
钟楼里的工作间闻起来有机油和温热金属的味道。法图一只手拎着装午饭的纸袋，爬上最后一段螺旋楼梯。头顶的表盘像一颗非常有耐心的心脏，滴答作响。
Uri is waiting at the top, pacing between a workbench and a wall of hanging tools. He is sixteen, the same age as Fatou, and today he looks about twelve.
乌里在顶上等着，在工作台和挂满工具的墙之间来回踱步。他十六岁，和法图一样大，可今天看起来只有十二岁左右。
"You came," he says. "Thank you. I did not think you would."
“你来了，”他说，“谢谢你。我还以为你不会来。”
"You sent me four messages," Fatou says. "One of them was just a picture of a screwdriver."
“你给我发了四条消息，”法图说，“其中一条只是一张螺丝刀的照片。”
"I was nervous." He rubs his bare left hand with his right. "My mother is away at a repair job until tomorrow morning. She asked me to keep the tower running while she is gone. Then I lost my glove."
“我太紧张了。”他用右手搓着光着的左手，“我妈妈出去修东西了，要到明天早上才回来。她让我在她不在的时候守着这座钟楼。结果我把手套弄丢了。”
"Your glove? That is the whole emergency?"
“手套？你说的紧急情况就只是一只手套？”
"It is not just a glove. It is the thick leather one for the escapement, the part that makes the tick. Without it I cannot touch the mechanism while it is running." He lowers his voice, as if the clock might be listening. "And the inspector arrives at noon. If the clock is wrong, the town may take the contract away from my mother."
“不只是手套。那是擒纵机构专用的厚皮手套，就是让钟发出滴答声的那个部件。没有它，机器在运转的时候我没法碰它。”他压低了声音，好像钟会偷听似的，“而且检查员中午就到。如果钟走得不对，镇上可能会把合同从我妈妈手里收回去。”
Fatou puts down the lunch bag. She does not know much about clocks. She knows that Uri has helped her with mathematics for two years without once making her feel stupid, and she knows that she owes him.
法图放下午饭袋。她对钟了解不多。她只知道乌里帮她补了两年数学，一次也没让她觉得自己笨，她还知道自己欠他一份情。
"Then here is my promise," she says. "I will find the glove before noon. Whatever it takes."
“那我向你保证，”她说，“中午之前我一定把手套找到。不管用什么办法。”
Uri looks at her for a long moment. "You do not have to say that."
乌里久久地看着她。“你不必这么说的。”
"I know. I am saying it anyway."
“我知道。我还是要说。”
They begin by searching the workshop. They look under the bench, behind the paint tins, and inside every drawer. Fatou finds a dead beetle, three bent screws, and an old sandwich wrapped in paper that she decides not to investigate.
他们开始在工作间里搜寻。他们找了工作台底下、颜料罐后面，每个抽屉里都翻了一遍。法图找到了一只死甲虫、三颗弯了的螺丝，还有一个用纸包着的旧三明治，她决定不去深究。
By ten o'clock the glove has still not appeared. By half past ten Uri has opened the same cupboard four times, hoping that it will have changed its mind.
到十点，手套还是没有出现。到十点半，乌里已经把同一个柜子打开了四次，希望它改变主意。
"Maybe I left it at home," he says.
“也许我把它落在家里了。”他说。
"You told me you wore it yesterday afternoon, here, to oil the gears. So it was here after you finished."
“你告诉过我，你昨天下午戴着它，在这儿给齿轮上油。所以你干完活之后，它还在这里。”
"Unless the pigeons took it."
“除非是鸽子叼走了。”
"Pigeons do not steal gloves."
“鸽子不偷手套。”
"These ones are unusual." He points through the small window at a gang of grey birds on the ledge, who look back at him with total innocence.
“这几只不一样。”他透过小窗户指着窗台上的一群灰鸟，它们一脸无辜地回望着他。
At ten forty the first problem arrives. Uri puts his ear against the great iron case in the centre of the room and frowns. The ticking has changed, he says. It sounds lazy, with a slight drag between every beat.
十点四十分，第一个问题出现了。乌里把耳朵贴在房间中央的大铁壳上，皱起眉头。他说，滴答声变了。听起来很懒散，每一下之间都有轻微的拖拽。
"What does that mean?" Fatou asks.
“这是什么意思？”法图问。
"Something is touching a gear that should be free." His face goes pale. "If it stays like this, the clock will lose a minute every ten minutes. By noon it will be wrong by eight minutes, and the inspector will see it from the square."
“有什么东西碰到了一个本该自由转动的齿轮。”他的脸变得苍白，“如果一直这样，钟每十分钟就会慢一分钟。到中午就会错八分钟，检查员在广场上就能看出来。”
"Then we open the case."
“那我们把外壳打开。”
"Not without the glove. The teeth are slick with oil and they catch fingers, and my mother says never to use bare hands."
“没有手套不行。齿都沾满了油，会夹住手指，我妈妈说过，绝对不能用光手。”
Fatou thinks. A promise is a strange thing, she realises, because it grows heavier the closer you come to the deadline. She looks at the shelf above the bench, at the tins of grease, the oily rags, and the single ragged hat that belongs to nobody.
法图想了想。她意识到，承诺是件奇怪的东西，离期限越近，它就越沉重。她看着工作台上面的架子，看着那一罐罐润滑脂、沾着油的抹布，还有那顶不知属于谁的破帽子。
"Wait. Does your mother keep spare gloves?"
“等等。你妈妈有备用手套吗？”
"Only one pair, and she took it with her." Uri sits down heavily on a stool. "I am sorry. I should have kept my promise to her better than this."
“只有一副，她带走了。”乌里重重地坐在凳子上，“对不起。我应该比这更好地遵守对她的承诺。”
"You have not broken it yet." Fatou picks up a long steel hook from the wall. "How dangerous is it?"
“你还没有违背它呢。”法图从墙上取下一根长钢钩，“这有多危险？”
"The teeth keep turning. They catch fingers, and they would pull in a sleeve."
“齿轮会一直转。会夹住手指，也会把袖子卷进去。”
"Then I will not use fingers or sleeves."
“那我就不用手指，也不用袖子。”
She pushes her sleeves above her elbows, and ties back her hair with the scarf from her neck. Then she wraps a rag around the end of the hook so it will not scratch the brass. Uri wants to argue, but the clock gives another lazy tick, and he stays silent. Together they unbolt the side panel and slide it aside, and a breath of warm, oily air comes out.
她把袖子推到手肘以上，用脖子上的围巾把头发扎起来。然后她在钩子的末端缠了一块抹布，免得刮伤黄铜。乌里想争辩，但钟又发出一声懒洋洋的滴答，他便沉默了。他们一起拧下侧板的螺栓，把它滑开，一股温热的、带着油味的空气涌了出来。
Inside, the great wheels turn slowly in their brass shadows. Fatou leans in with the hook, her cheek turned away from the warmth, and she searches the dark spaces between the gears one by one.
里面，巨大的齿轮在黄铜的阴影里缓缓转动。法图拿着钩子探身进去，脸扭向一边避开热气，一个一个地搜寻齿轮之间昏暗的缝隙。
"There," Uri whispers suddenly. "Look near the bottom. Something brown."
“那儿，”乌里突然低声说，“看下面，靠近底部。有个褐色的东西。”
She cannot reach it. The thing is wedged deep inside, between a wheel and the frame, and every time she stretches towards it the rag begins to slip. Ten fifty. Ten fifty-five. Sweat runs down the side of her neck.
她够不着。那东西深深地卡在一个轮子和框架之间，每次她朝它伸去，抹布就开始打滑。十点五十。十点五十五。汗水顺着她脖子的一侧流下来。
"I cannot get it," she says. "I think it is your glove, and I think it is the reason the clock is slow. It is caught in the teeth."
“我够不到，”她说，“我觉得那是你的手套，而且我觉得它就是钟变慢的原因。它卡在齿里了。”
"Pull gently," says Uri. "If you tear it, the pieces will jam the whole machine."
“轻轻地拉，”乌里说，“如果你把它扯破了，碎片会卡住整台机器。”
"If I do not pull, the inspector will find a slow clock."
“如果我不拉，检查员就会发现钟慢了。”
On the next attempt the hook slips. Her wrist brushes a turning wheel, and she gasps and pulls back. The rag falls into the case. Uri grabs her arm and holds her hand under the tap in the corner of the workshop. For a minute neither of them speaks.
下一次尝试时，钩子滑了。她的手腕擦过一个转动的轮子，她倒吸一口气，缩了回来。抹布掉进了壳里。乌里抓住她的胳膊，把她的手按在工作间角落的水龙头下冲。有一分钟，两人都没说话。
"It is not bad," Fatou says finally, looking at the pink line across her skin. "Only a small mark."
“不严重，”法图终于说，看着皮肤上那条粉红色的痕迹，“只是一道小印子。”
"You promised to find the glove. You did not promise to be hurt."
“你答应的是找到手套。你没答应要受伤。”
"I am not giving up."
“我不放弃。”
The dial outside shows twenty to twelve. Uri stares at the tower stairs, and then, to her surprise, at the old brass bell hanging in the roof above them.
外面的表盘显示还差二十分钟到十二点。乌里盯着钟楼的楼梯，然后，出乎她意料地，又盯向了他们头顶屋顶上那只古老的黄铜大钟。
"Fatou, listen. There is another way. The bell has a rope for emergencies, and the hands have a setting key. If the clock cannot be fixed in time, I push the hands forward to the right minute, and we ring the bell ourselves at noon. The inspector will see and hear the right time. And the clock can be repaired properly tonight, with the case open and the machine stopped."
“法图，听我说。还有另一个办法。钟有一根应急用的绳子，指针有一把校时钥匙。如果钟来不及修好，我就把指针拨到正确的时间，然后我们在中午亲自敲钟。检查员会看到也会听到正确的时间。而钟今晚可以好好修理，到时候外壳打开，机器也停了。”
"That is cheating."
“那是作弊。”
"It is not. It is what the rope and the key are for. My mother did it once, in a winter power cut." He grins at her, and for a moment he looks sixteen again. "And you still keep your promise, in a way. You found out where the glove is. That is what you said you would do."
“不是。绳子和钥匙就是用来干这个的。我妈妈有一次在冬天停电的时候就这么做过。”他朝她咧嘴一笑，一时间，他又像十六岁了，“而且你也算遵守了承诺。你找到了手套在哪里。你说过你会做的就是这个。”
She considers this. It is not the ending she imagined, but it has an odd, stubborn kind of honesty. She leaves the glove, wedged and silent, in the dark.
她考虑着这个说法。这不是她想象中的结局，但它有一种奇怪而倔强的诚实。她把手套留在了黑暗中，卡在那里，一声不响。
At five to twelve Uri turns the setting key and pushes the long hand forward until the dial agrees with his own watch. Then they climb the narrow ladder into the bell room. The brass is huge and green with age, and the rope hangs down like a long, thin finger. Uri holds the watch in his palm and counts the seconds aloud.
十二点差五分，乌里转动校时钥匙，把长针往前推，直到表盘和他自己的手表一致。然后他们爬上窄梯，进了钟室。那只铜钟巨大，长满了年深日久的铜绿，绳子像一根又长又细的手指垂下来。乌里把手表托在掌心，大声数着秒。
"Ten," he says. "Nine. Eight."
“十，”他说，“九。八。”
Fatou takes the rope in both hands, her scraped wrist protesting, and pulls with everything she has.
法图双手抓住绳子，被擦伤的手腕在抗议，她用尽全力拉了下去。
The bell swings, and the whole tower hums with it. Far below in the square, a man in a grey coat looks up at the dial. Then he checks his watch and slowly puts his notebook away.
钟摆动起来，整座塔都随之嗡鸣。远处下面的广场上，一个穿灰大衣的男人抬头看向表盘。然后他看了看自己的手表，慢慢地把笔记本收了起来。
