Читать книгу Three Things About Elsie: A Richard and Judy Book Club Pick 2018 - Joanna Cannon, Joanna Cannon - Страница 16

I have never done anything remarkable. I’ve never climbed a mountain or won a medal. I’ve never stood on a stage and been listened to, or crossed a finishing line before anyone else. When I look back, I have led quite an ordinary life. I sometimes wonder what the point of me was. ‘Does God have a plan, and where does he see me fitting into it?’ I asked the vicar once. He came to Cherry Tree with his leaflets, handing them around and trying to persuade us all into being religious.

‘We each have a role to play, Miss Claybourne,’ he said. ‘Jesus loves everyone.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ I said. ‘But love isn’t enough, is it? You need to have some kind of purpose. I was wondering what mine might have been?’

I looked at him. I thought he might give me an interesting answer. Something comfortable and reassuring. But he just checked his watch and started talking to Mrs Honeyman about harvest festivals.

So even the vicar doesn’t know why I’m here.

Elsie says I shouldn’t dwell on things so much, but when you get to this age, it passes the time.

‘There has to be a reason, though, doesn’t there?’ I said to her once. ‘Or have I spent the last eighty-four years just sitting in the audience?’

‘Of course you haven’t been sitting in the audience. No one sits in the audience. Even the seats in a theatre are still a stage.’

I’ve no idea what she meant. Times like that I just nod, because it’s less time-consuming and it makes life easier for both of us. She just comes out with these things. Like the girl with the twisted ankle. I’m sure she makes half of it up. It makes you wonder, though. It makes you wonder if you did have a purpose, but it floated past you one day, and you just didn’t think to flag it down.

Lying here, there’s not really very much else to do except wonder. Of course, I’ve wondered about Ronnie more than anyone. He was right under Elsie’s nose in that potting shed, but she wasn’t having any of it. She was exactly the same, even when we were at school. She’d tell me to stop worrying, before I’d even given her all my evidence. Before she’d heard the full story. The only difference is, no one will ever hear the full story this time. I never thought it would come to this. You always think a secret will only be a secret for so long, that one day you will turn to someone else and say, ‘I’ve never told anyone this …’ and the secret will vanish and become something else. It’s only when you get to the end of your life, when you’re lying on a wipe-clean carpet with only yourself for company, you realise that you never did manage to find the right someone to tell.