Читать книгу Three Things About Elsie: A Richard and Judy Book Club Pick 2018 - Joanna Cannon, Joanna Cannon - Страница 20

They need a letter, the council. There’s a new Basildon Bond in the sideboard, and as soon as I’m back on my feet, I’m going to pull it out and write one.

It’s the rubbish. There’s too much of it. People are getting tired of things and throwing them away, and we’re running out of space to put it all in. I read about it. In a magazine. When we’ve finished with something, we shouldn’t be putting it in the bin, we should be reusing it. The magazine said so. I’ve told enough people, but none of them listens.

‘Don’t you worry about the rubbish, Miss Claybourne. Worrying about the rubbish is our department,’ they say.

Someone has to worry though, don’t they? No one else seems to. There are great skips of rubbish at the back of the kitchens. I’ve seen them. Full of waste. Food people would be grateful for. Clothes as well. All they need is a darn, but people won’t get a needle and thread out these days. I’d got quite a collection together before Gloria found me.

‘Don’t you go bothering yourself with all this, Florence,’ she said, and she lifted it out of my hands and put everything back.

I didn’t kick up a fuss, because what she didn’t realise was that it was my second trip. I’ve already sewn up the anorak. And the socks. I’ve saved all the old newspapers for when the nights start drawing in, and I’m going to use the egg cartons for my bits and pieces. Elsie says they smell, but she’s always been over-particular. We get fed up of things too easily, I said to her. We shouldn’t be so quick to throw things away. There’s always a use for something if you look hard enough.

I’m going to ask Gloria to help me write that letter. She’s a pleasant girl, Gloria. Always smiling. Kind eyes. And you couldn’t wish for nicer teeth. Everyone has bad days, don’t they, and I just met her in the middle of one. Gloria might be the one to find me, and if she does, I’m going to explain all about the rubbish again. When she knocks at the door, I’ll give her a shout. I don’t want to cause any alarm, so I’ll probably say something like, ‘I hate to be a bother, but I’ve got myself in a bit of a situation, Gloria.’ I won’t want her to ring for an ambulance, but she’ll insist, because she’s that kind of girl. When it gets here, she’ll sit in the back with me, and even though the ambulance sways along all the roads, and all the leads and the little boxes of equipment will sway along with it, she will never let go of my hand. Not once.

‘Don’t you worry, Florence. I’m not going to leave your side.’

The ambulance man will sit on the opposite seat. He will rest his hands on his knees, and I will look down at his boots and think how tired the leather looks, and I will ask him if his shift is nearly over.

He’ll say, ‘Not long to go now,’ and he’ll wink at me, and I will try to think of the last time someone winked at me, and I won’t be able to come up with anything.

‘That’s so typical of you, Florence. Always thinking about other people,’ Gloria will say, and she’ll squeeze my hand.

And I’ll tell her she can call me Flo, if she’d like.

I’m not sure when Gloria finishes work. Five, I think. It might be gone that by now, but there must be times when she stays late. Everybody does these days, don’t they?