Twelve Doors and a Tin of Buttons

Counting Lane has twelve houses, and every house has a door with a brass number on it. The numbers run up one side from one to six and back down the other from seven to twelve. The street looks like a long, narrow clock. Nobody knows who built it. Nobody has ever seen the doors open from the outside, either, because every resident goes in through the back garden and out the same way.

数数巷里有十二栋房子，每栋房子都有一扇门，门上钉着黄铜门牌号。号码沿着街的一侧从一排到六，再从另一侧倒着从七排到十二。整条街看上去就像一个又长又窄的钟面。没有人知道是谁建的。也从来没有人见过这些门从外面打开，因为每个住户都是从后花园进出的。

Fergus lives behind door four. Saskia lives behind door nine. They have been rivals since the first day of school. Both of them tried to be first in line and ended up wedged together in the gate.

弗格斯住在四号门后面。萨斯基亚住在九号门后面。从上学第一天起，他们就是对头。两个人都想排在队伍最前面，结果双双卡在了校门口。

Since then, the rivalry has grown a great deal. They race to the lamp post at the middle of the street every morning, and whoever touches it first earns a point. Fergus is ahead by seven, but Saskia insists that the points before March do not count because his shoelace was untied. They argue about this daily, loudly, and with real enjoyment.

从那以后，两人的较量越发厉害了。每天早上，他们都要赛跑去摸街中央的路灯杆，谁先摸到，谁就得一分。弗格斯领先七分，可萨斯基亚坚持说三月以前的分数不算，因为那时他的鞋带是散开的。他们为这件事天天争，吵得很大声，也吵得兴致勃勃。

On Saturday, the argument is interrupted by a clinking noise.

星期六，争吵被一阵叮当声打断了。

"Did you hear that?" Fergus asks.

“你听到了吗？”弗格斯问。

"I am not falling for it," says Saskia. "You always pretend to hear something when you are losing."

“我才不上当呢，”萨斯基亚说，“你每次快输了，就假装听到什么动静。”

"I am not losing. I am ahead by seven."

“我没有输。我领先七分。”

"Ahead by seven minus the shoelace."

“领先七分，还要减去那根鞋带。”

The clink comes again, from the foot of the lamp post. A round tin sits there, dented and rusty, about the size of a loaf of cake. It was not there yesterday. Fergus is sure of it, because he walked past this exact spot with his eyes closed as a dare. He crouches and reaches for it. Saskia drops to her knees at the same moment and grabs the other side.

叮当声又响了，是从路灯杆脚下传来的。那里放着一只圆铁盒，凹凹瘪瘪，锈迹斑斑，大约有一个蛋糕面包那么大。昨天它还不在那儿。弗格斯很确定，因为他曾经打赌闭着眼睛从这个地方走过去。他蹲下身，伸手去拿。萨斯基亚同时跪下来，抓住了盒子的另一边。

"I saw it first," Fergus says.

“是我先看到的，”弗格斯说。

"You saw it second. I was already looking."

“你是第二个看到的。我早就在看了。”

"At what? At the clouds?"

“看什么？看云吗？”

"At the tin, with my mind."

“看这只盒子，用我的心。”

They tug. The lid, which has probably been loose for years, flies off, and a cascade of buttons spills across the cobbles in every direction. They are all shapes and colours: round brass ones, square wooden ones, a tiny glass one that glints like a drop of water. Each of them has a number stitched into its face in white thread.

两人拉扯起来。盒盖大概已经松了好些年，一下子飞了出去，一大堆纽扣哗啦啦地洒在鹅卵石路面上，向四面八方滚去。纽扣形状、颜色各不相同：圆圆的黄铜纽扣，方方的木头纽扣，还有一颗小小的玻璃纽扣，闪着光，像一滴水。每颗纽扣的正面都用白线绣着一个数字。

For a moment, both of them stop pulling and simply look.

有那么一会儿，两个人都停下手，只是看着。

"Ten," Saskia whispers, picking one up. "This one says ten."

“十，”萨斯基亚小声说，捡起一颗，“这颗上面写着十。”

"Mine says four." Fergus turns it over in his palm. It is a heavy brown button with two holes, and the stitched number shines as if it has just been sewn. "Four. Like my door."

“我这颗是四。”弗格斯把它在手心里翻过来。那是一颗沉甸甸的棕色纽扣，有两个孔，绣出来的数字闪闪发亮，像是刚刚缝上去的。“四。跟我家的门牌一样。”

They look at each other. Then they look at the street.

他们互相看了一眼。然后又看向整条街。

On door four, the brass plate suddenly seems to have a different shape. Where the keyhole should be, there is a round, shallow dip, no bigger than a coin. Fergus runs across the road and presses the button into it. It fits perfectly. The door swallows it with a quiet click, and a thin line of golden light appears around the frame.

四号门上，那块黄铜牌似乎忽然变了样子。本该是锁孔的地方，出现了一个浅浅的圆形凹坑，不比一枚硬币大。弗格斯跑过马路，把纽扣按了进去。大小正好。门轻轻咔嗒一声“吞”下了纽扣，门框四周现出一圈细细的金光。

"Don't," Saskia says, but he has already pulled the handle.

“别，”萨斯基亚说，可他已经拉动了门把手。

The door opens a hand's width and stops. Behind it is not a hallway but a narrow staircase going down into the dark. A smell of warm dust and old paper comes up from the bottom. Fergus peers in and does not move.

门开了一个手掌宽，就卡住了。门后不是走廊，而是一道窄窄的楼梯，通向黑暗深处。一股温热灰尘和旧纸张的气味从下面飘了上来。弗格斯探头往里看，一动也不动。

"It is not working properly," he says. "It will only open a little."

“它坏了，”他说，“只能开一点点。”

"Maybe it needs more than one button." Saskia is already at door nine, pressing a button into the dip at its centre. The door clicks, and golden light traces its edge. It opens exactly one hand's width, then sticks. "See? The same thing."

“也许需要不止一颗纽扣。”萨斯基亚已经跑到九号门前，把一颗纽扣按进门中央的凹坑里。门咔嗒一响，金光描出了门的边缘。门正好开了一个手掌宽，又卡住了。“看到没？一模一样。”

"So each door needs two buttons."

“这么说，每扇门需要两颗纽扣。”

"Or one button from each of us."

“或者说，我们每人一颗。”

They stare at each other across the street. Fergus opens his mouth to say that he has no interest in sharing. Then he notices the look on Saskia's face. It is stubborn and wary, as though they have both just discovered the same inconvenient fact.

他们隔着街互相瞪着。弗格斯张开嘴，想说自己才不想跟人分享。可这时他注意到萨斯基亚脸上的神情。那神情倔强而警惕，仿佛两人刚刚发现了同一个不太方便的事实。

"I will not forget about the shoelace," Saskia says.

“我不会忘掉鞋带那件事的，”萨斯基亚说。

"I would be disappointed if you did."

“你要是忘了，我才会失望呢。”

It takes them an hour to sort the buttons. They lay them out in rows on the cobbles, from one to twelve. A pattern appears at once. Each number turns up exactly twice, but no two buttons of the same number look alike. The glass ten is clearly meant to be matched with the dull iron ten. Door four already holds the brown button, so it needs the pearl one.

他们花了一个小时把纽扣分好类。他们把纽扣在鹅卵石地上一排排摆开，从一排到十二。一个规律立刻显现出来：每个数字恰好出现两次，可是同一个数字的两颗纽扣，没有一对长得一样。那颗玻璃的十，显然要和那颗暗淡的铁制的十配成一对。四号门已经放进了棕色纽扣，所以还需要那颗珍珠纽扣。

Fergus and Saskia take turns. He reads out a number; she finds the partner button; they press them into the plate together, one button each. At door one, the first pair makes a sound like a bell. At door two, the street gives a faint shiver. By door six, the golden light has spread from the frames to the cobbles. The lamp post in the middle of the lane is humming.

弗格斯和萨斯基亚轮流行动。他报出一个数字，她找出配对的纽扣，两人一起把它们按进门牌，一人一颗。在一号门，第一对纽扣发出了像钟一样的声响。在二号门，整条街微微颤了一下。到六号门时，金光已经从门框蔓延到了鹅卵石路面上。小巷中央的路灯杆正嗡嗡作响。

"Is it supposed to do that?" Saskia asks.

“它本来就该这样吗？”萨斯基亚问。

"I have no idea. I did not even know the street had a hum."

“我不知道。我连这条街会嗡嗡响都不知道。”

"It is probably friendly."

“它多半是友好的。”

"You have no evidence for that."

“你可没有证据。”

"I have the evidence of my own good judgment," Saskia says.

“我有我自己良好判断力的证据，”萨斯基亚说。

At door twelve, the final pair clicks home. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, all at once, every door on Counting Lane swings wide with a soft sound, like twelve people drawing a breath. Light pours out of the houses and meets in the middle of the street. The air fills with the smell of old books and warm bricks.

在十二号门，最后一对纽扣咔嗒一声合上了。有那么一刻，什么也没发生。接着，数数巷里的每一扇门同时轻轻地向两边敞开，就像十二个人同时吸了一口气。光从房子里涌出来，在街中央汇合。空气中充满了旧书和温热砖头的气味。

Neighbours come hurrying out of their back gardens, blinking, holding spoons and watering cans and sleepy cats. Someone laughs. Someone else says that she has lived here for thirty years and never once seen the street from the front. A small girl runs through the open door of number seven and comes back with a glowing paper star in her hands.

邻居们急匆匆地从后花园里跑出来，眨着眼睛，手里拿着勺子、喷壶，怀里抱着睡眼惺忪的猫。有人笑了起来。另一个人说，她在这里住了三十年，从来没有一次从正面看过这条街。一个小女孩跑进七号门，回来时手里捧着一颗发光的纸星星。

Fergus and Saskia stand in the middle of it, still holding the empty tin between them. Neither of them seems to remember who picked it up first.

弗格斯和萨斯基亚站在这一切的中央，两人手里仍然一起拿着那只空铁盒。他们谁也不记得是谁先把它捡起来的了。

"Seven," Fergus says at last.

“七，”弗格斯终于开口。

"What?"

“什么？”

"I said I was ahead by seven. I think we should stop counting."

“我说过我领先七分。我觉得我们该别再数了。”

Saskia looks at the doors, at the golden light, and at the tin in her hands. She is quiet for so long that he starts to worry she is composing a clever answer. When she finally speaks, her voice is almost shy.

萨斯基亚看看那些门，看看金色的光，又看看手里的铁盒。她沉默了好久，久到他开始担心她是不是在琢磨什么巧妙的回答。等她终于开口时，声音几乎带着一丝羞涩。

"If we stop counting," she says, "who is going to tell everyone how the doors got opened?"

“要是我们不数了，”她说，“那谁来告诉大家，这些门是怎么被打开的呢？”