Three Things About Elsie: A Richard and Judy Book Club Pick 2018. Joanna Cannon

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СКАЧАТЬ said as well. Just the usual, Cheryl. And she got out her comb and put a little cape around my shoulders.

      Another girl was cutting Ronnie’s hair. No one knew what her name was, and as there were only two of them, everybody always called her Not-Cheryl. ‘Who did your set and blow dry?’ and people would reply, ‘Not-Cheryl,’ and we all knew where we were because that’s who she was. She knew we did it, and she didn’t seem to mind. Not-Cheryl was taking pieces of Ronnie’s hair between her fingers and snipping at the ends. I watched through the mirrors.

      ‘You settling in all right, Mr Price?’ said Not-Cheryl.

      ‘Perfectly grand,’ he said. ‘I feel as though I’ve been here all my life.’

      His voice. It hadn’t changed at all. I tried to close my ears to the sound, but it still crept in, and each word turned my stomach over. For someone so full of violence, his voice was almost soft and whispery, like a woman’s. If you listened very carefully, there was even a lisp.

      ‘Where did you say you were from originally?’ The girl took another pair of scissors from her pocket.

      He didn’t answer for a moment, then he said, ‘Here and there,’ and I could hear the smiling. His words were still full of themselves, even after all these years.

      ‘That’s nice,’ she said.

      Cheryl combed my hair out, and I looked in the mirror and wondered how long I’d looked this old. ‘There’s lots of activities go on in the day room, Mr Price,’ she said, ‘if you want to meet some more people,’ and I thought, I’m sitting in your seat and you should be talking to me, you shouldn’t be talking to him.

      I heard Ronnie shift in his chair, and all the pretend leather creaked with his weight. ‘I’ve been rather too busy for that,’ he said, ‘of late.’

      ‘What have you been up to, then?’ said Not-Cheryl, who was young enough to fall into traps.

      I heard the chair again. ‘I’ve been tracing my family tree, as it happens.’

      I was sure his reflection was staring at me, but Cheryl and her overall kept getting in the way.

      ‘I’ve always wanted to do that.’ Cheryl pulled the ends of my hair over my ears. ‘It must be really fascinating.’

      ‘Oh, it is,’ said Ronnie. ‘Fascinating.’

      ‘How far back did you go?’ Cheryl gave up on my ears and searched for a parting instead.

      Ronnie took a while to answer. He always did. It was as though he needed to enjoy the taste of his own opinion for a while, before he was willing to let it go. ‘As far back as I needed to,’ he said.

      ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’ Not-Cheryl spoke to the mirror. ‘I know my great-grandma used to live in Prestatyn, but everyone lost touch.’

      I was certain Ronnie moved again, because when I looked up, his reflection seemed closer. ‘It’s amazing what you can find out with a little research. You can trace anyone you like if you’re determined enough.’ He smiled. ‘Even great-grandmas who used to live in Prestatyn.’

      ‘Do you think so?’ said the girl.

      ‘Anyone is traceable.’ He stood and brushed down his jacket. ‘I think you’ll find there are no hiding places left in this world any more.’

      As he spoke, he looked at me. I was worried they could hear me breathing. I was worried Cheryl would ask if I was all right, and why I’d gone so pale, and if I’d like a glass of water. But no one said anything. Ronnie slipped through the door and back into the lounge, the girl swept away all traces of him from the floor, and Cheryl pulled a towel from a shelf and wrapped it around my shoulders and said, ‘Shall we get you sorted out, then?’

      I didn’t say anything. I sat there and tried to concentrate on the radio, but it wasn’t playing a song I wanted to hear. I listened to Not-Cheryl talking about her great-grandma in Prestatyn, and Cheryl pretending to be interested. I listened to the click of the scissors and the whir of the hairdryer, and the sound of water running in a sink. I tried to make these noises cover up my thinking, but all they did was make it louder.

      When I went to pay, I tried to take my mind off things, and I looked at the tattoo on Cheryl’s wrist whilst she was searching for change in the till.

      ‘It’s a lovely name,’ I said. ‘Alice. I had an aunt called Alice a long time ago.’

      When I spoke, she dropped the coins on the floor. It took her an age to collect them all, but when she had, she stood back up again and looked me right in the eye for the first time.

      ‘Thank you so much, Miss Claybourne,’ she said.

      ‘You’re very welcome, Cheryl,’ I said back. Although I wasn’t even sure what it was she was welcome to.

      After I’d left the hairdressers, I went to the little shop near the main gates. I thought I might have a look around. Treat myself. I knew Ronnie wouldn’t be in there, because Miss Bissell allowed him to go to the supermarket all by himself. I’d seen him. Walking across the courtyard, weighed down by carrier bags. Although what he finds to buy in there, I couldn’t tell you. I thought perhaps Jack or Elsie might be around, though, and we’d all be able to walk back to my flat together.

      It was empty, as it happened. Just the man behind the counter, who doesn’t look up when he’s serving you, let alone when you walk in. I used to try and pass the time of day, but then I noticed he wears those little headphones in his ears, and half the time he isn’t even listening.

      ‘I’m just having a browse,’ I shouted, when I walked in. ‘Don’t mind me.’

      And he didn’t.

      I did my best, but it’s difficult to browse in a shop that small. There’s only so long you can stare at a loaf of bread. Qwick Stop, it’s called. I’ve had it out with Miss Bissell on many an occasion, but she says it’s out of her remit. I don’t really know what a remit is exactly, but you can guarantee if Miss Bissell has one, it stretches as far as she damn well wants it to. The shop is all primary colours and bright lights, although it still looks tired, like it needs a good bottoming. It sells basics. Aisles full of milk and bread, and lavatory paper. They have a freezer packed with ready meals and ice cream, and a little display of cakes and biscuits. I studied the display for as long as I could, before the man started peering round the till. In the end, I plumped for the Battenberg. It’s nice to have a bit of cake in, just in case you have an unexpected visitor, and you can’t go wrong with a Battenberg. Although I did think I might still have one unopened in a tin somewhere.

      When I went to pay, the man had taken his earphones out, but he still shouted, ‘One pound seventy-four pence.’ I shouted, ‘Thank you,’ back again. I was putting the change in my purse when I said, ‘Would you like me to go round and give everything the once-over?’ He stared at me.

      ‘Would you like me to give the shelves a clean?’ I said.

      ‘We have a cleaner, thank you.’

      ‘You don’t have to pay me,’ I said. ‘I’m free now, as luck would have it. I could soon get started.’

      ‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said.

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