Twenties Girl - Kinsella Sophie (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений TXT) 📗

“Thanks.” I want to smile, but my mouth won’t quite do it. “I bought them the other day. Ed helped me choose them, actually. We were late-night shopping. We went to the Whiteleys center. They had all these special offers on…”

I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m just talking for the sake of it. Because talking is better than waiting. I glance at my watch again and it’s two minutes past the hour. They’re late. I feel ridiculously grateful, like we’ve been given a reprieve.

“He’s rather good at the old bone-jumping, isn’t he?” Sadie suddenly says conversationally. “Ed, I mean. Mind you… you’re not so bad either.”

Bone-jumping?

She doesn’t mean-

No. No.

“Sadie.” I turn on her. “I knew it! You watched us!”

“What?” She bursts into peals of laughter. “I was very subtle! You didn’t know I was there.”

“What did you see?” I moan.

“Everything,” she says airily. “And it was a jolly good show, I can tell you.”

“Sadie, you’re impossible!” I clutch my head. “You don’t watch people having sex! There are laws against that!”

“I just had one tiny criticism,” she says, ignoring me. “Or, rather… suggestion. Something we used to do in my day.”

“No!” I say in horror. “No suggestions!”

“Your loss.” She shrugs and examines her nails, occasionally shooting me a look from under her lashes.

Oh for God’s sake. Of course, now my curiosity is piqued. I want to know what her suggestion is.

“All right,” I say at last. “Tell me your genius 1920s sex tip. But it better not involve any weird indelible paste.”

“Well…” Sadie begins, coming closer. But before she can continue, my eyes suddenly focus over her shoulder. I stiffen and draw breath. An elderly man in an overcoat is unlocking the door of the funeral parlor.

“What is it?” Sadie follows my gaze. “Oh.”

“Yes.” I swallow.

By now the elderly man has caught sight of me. I suppose I am quite noticeable, sitting bolt upright on a bench staring directly at him.

“Are you… all right?” he says warily.

“Um… hi.” I force myself to my feet. “I’m actually… I’ve come to pay a visit to your… to pay my respects. It’s my great-aunt. Sadie Lancaster. I believe you’re… this is where…”

“Aaah.” He nods somberly. “Yes.”

“Could I… possibly… see her?”

“Aaah.” He bows his head again. “Of course. Just give me a minute to open up the place, get a few things straight, and I will be with you, Miss…”

“Lington.”

“Lington.” There’s a flash of recognition in his face. “Of course, of course. If you’d like to come in and wait in our family room…”

“I’ll be in in a moment.” I give an approximation of a smile. “Just got… a call to make…”

He disappears inside. For a moment I can’t quite move. I want to prolong this moment of limbo. I want to stop us doing this. If I don’t acknowledge it, maybe it’s not really going to happen.

“Got the necklace?” comes Sadie’s voice beside me.

“Right here.” I pull it out of my bag.

“Good.” She smiles, but it’s a tense, remote smile. I can tell she’s moved on from 1920s sex tips.

“So… are you ready?” I try to sound lighthearted. “These places can be quite depressing-”

“Oh, I’m not coming in,” says Sadie nonchalantly. “I’ll sit here and wait. Much better.”

“Right.” I nod. “Good idea. You don’t want to…”

I trail off, unable to continue-but also unable to bring up what I’m really thinking. The thought that’s going around and around my head like an ominous tune, getting louder and louder.

Is neither of us going to bring it up?

“So.” I swallow hard.

“So what?” Sadie’s voice is bright and sharp as a chip of diamond-and instantly I know. It’s on her mind too.

“What d’you think will happen when I… when…”

“Do you mean, will you finally be rid of me?” says Sadie, as flippantly as ever.

“No! I just meant-”

“I know. You’re in a tearing hurry to get rid of me. Sick of the sight of me.” Her chin is quivering but she flashes me a smile. “Well, I shouldn’t think it’ll work for a moment.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the message in them. Don’t lose it. No wallowing. Chin up.

“So I’m stuck with you.” I somehow manage a derisory tone. “Great.”

“Afraid so.”

“Just what every girl needs.” I roll my eyes. “A bossy ghost hanging around the place forever.”

“A bossy guardian angel,” she corrects me firmly.

“Miss Lington?” The elderly man pokes his head out of the door. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks! I’ll just be a sec!”

When the door closes, I adjust my jacket needlessly a few times. I tug at my belt, making sure it’s completely straight, buying myself another thirty seconds.

“So I’ll just dump the necklace and see you in a couple of minutes, OK?” I aim for a matter-of-fact tone.

“I’ll be here.” Sadie pats the bench she’s sitting on.

“We’ll go and see a movie. Something like that.”

“Let’s.” She nods.

I take a step away-then stop. I know we’re playing a game. But I can’t leave it like that. I swivel around, breathing hard, determined that I won’t lose it, I won’t let her down.

“But… just in case. Just in case we…” I can’t bring myself to say it. I can’t even think it. “Sadie, it’s been…”

There’s nothing to say. No word is good enough. Nothing can describe what it’s been like to know Sadie.

“I know,” she whispers, and her eyes are like two glittering stars. “Me too. Go on.”

When I reach the door of the funeral parlor I look back one last time. She’s sitting bolt upright with perfect posture, her neck as long and pale as ever, her dress skimming her slender frame. She’s facing directly ahead, feet lined up neatly, with her hands clasped on her knees. Utterly still. As though she’s waiting.

I can’t imagine what’s going through her mind.

As I stand there, she notices me watching her, lifts her chin, and gives a sudden, ravishing, defiant smile.

“Tally-ho!” she exclaims.

“Tally-ho,” I call back. On impulse, I blow her a kiss. Then I turn and push my way in with determination. It’s time to do this.

The funeral director has made me a cup of tea and rustled up two shortbread biscuits, which he’s put on a plate decorated with roses. He’s a man with a receding chin, who answers every comment with a somber, low-pitched “aaah” before he gets to the actual reply. Which gets really irritating.

He leads me down a pastel corridor, then pauses meaningfully outside a wooden door marked Lily Suite.

“I’ll let you have a few moments alone.” He opens the door with an expert twist and pushes it a little way, then adds, “Is it true she was once the girl in that famous painting? The one that’s been in the papers?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“Aaah.” He lowers his head. “How extraordinary. One can hardly believe it. Such a very, very old lady-one hundred and five, I believe? A very great age.”

Even though I know he’s trying to be nice, his words touch a nerve.

“I don’t think of her like that,” I say curtly. “I don’t think of her as old.”

“Aaah.” He nods hastily. “Indeed.”

“Anyway. I want to put something in the… coffin. Will that be all right? Will it be safe?”

“Aaah. Quite safe, I assure you.”

“And private,” I say fiercely. “I don’t want anyone else going in here after me. If they want to, you contact me first, OK?”

“Aaah.” He surveys his shoes respectfully. “Of course.”

“Well. Thank you. I’ll… go in now.”

I walk in, close the door behind me, and just stand there for a few moments. Now that I’m in here, now that I’m actually doing this, my legs feel a bit watery. I swallow a few times, trying to get a grip on myself, telling myself not to freak out. After about a minute I make myself take a step toward the big wooden coffin. Then another.

That’s Sadie. Real Sadie. My 105-year-old great-aunt. Who lived and died and I never knew her. I edge forward, breathing heavily. As I reach forward, I see just a puff of dry white hair and a glimpse of dried-out old skin.