Junazzz: переводы

→She then asked if either Robert or I would like to speak about Robbie at the service. I shook my head vehemently. I knew I would not be able to do so, and I really didn’t feel I could sit and listen to the husband I now knew had deceived me for so long eulogizing about the son he had also grievously deceived.

→I smiled and told Gladys those two hymns would be fine.

→‘Oh, Gerry doesn’t worry about stuff like that, chuck,’ responded the vicar’s wife cheerily. ‘In any case he’s so high church there’s some round here think he secretly is RC!’

→‘But can you have a Catholic hymn at a C of E funeral?’ I asked.

→I was moved by the words. It made me think of Robbie not knowing the way and seeking rest, and it reminded me of how I had almost always been moved by the Bible whenever I encountered quotations or readings. Even though I didn’t actually believe a word that was in it.

→That hymn began with the verse: You shall cross the barren desert, But you shall not die of thirst, You shall wander far in safety, Though you do not know the way. It’s chorus was: Be not afraid, I go before you always, Come follow me, And I shall give you rest.

→I nodded my agreement. She suggested ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, which, of course, even I had heard of, and ‘Be Not Afraid’, originally an American Catholic hymn, which I hadn’t.

→‘Would you like me to choose, luv?’ she asked.

→Gladys made instant coffee in an orange Formica kitchen dating back to the 1970s, I guessed. She sat me at the Formica-topped table, plonked half a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits before me, then got down to business. First she asked what hymns I would like. I didn’t think I knew any appropriate hymns, except ‘Abide with Me’, which I definitely didn’t want because it would be sure to cause me to totally break down. Other than that I had only a distant memory of hymns I used to sing at school and I couldn’t even remember what they were.

→Blackstone Vicarage, built right next to the church, was an ugly Victorian pile in dire need of a major facelift outside and in. It boasted few of the comforts of life which I took for granted. The Reverend Gerald, a distracted man several years older than his wife, I thought, who wore wire-framed spectacles balanced crookedly on a large pointed nose, greeted me in the hall before retreating to his study, saying he would ‘leave Gladys to it, then’, which I somehow thought was his habit.

→Ultimately I called her the next day to say I was ready to talk about the details of the funeral, or as ready as I’d ever be, and I would like to meet at the vicarage. I just wanted a break from the sheer bloody misery of Highrise.

→I didn’t believe in anything that she stood for, but I did feel very slightly less bereft after her visit.

→‘If you’d rather pop out for a bit and come to the vicarage or go to the pub or something, just let me know,’ she said as she left.

→I thanked her and said I appreciated having a bit more time.

→‘Look, I’m not staying, not this time,’ she said. ‘I just wanted you to know that I’m here to give you all the help I can with the funeral and anything else. I’ll come back to sort out the details.’

→She stepped into the hall but made no attempt to move further into the house.

→I invited her in, trying not to let my reluctance show. After all, I really did need her.

→She had me smiling in spite of myself. For a start I didn’t think anyone, from Liverpool or anywhere else, actually said ‘chuck’, except Cilla Black.

→‘You don’t need to worry about that, chuck,’ Gladys responded swiftly. ‘Not half as hypocritical as a considerable number of our regular congregation at St Andrews, I can tell you. Only I never said that.’

→‘I hope you don’t think I’m a hypocrite,’ I said.