The Rain Before It Falls by Coe Jonathan

Author:Coe, Jonathan [Coe, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780141909295
Amazon: 0141909293
Goodreads: 36445091
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2007-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

‘Damn,’ said Gill, looking at her watch. ‘We’d better stop there.’

It was already six-thirty. Outside, it had been dark for almost two hours. The rush-hour traffic had started, swelled up to saturation point and was even now beginning to recede – all unnoticed by the three women high up in Catharine’s flat. Gill and Catharine still sat on the ancient, listless sofa; Elizabeth had by now forsaken the swivel chair and was sitting on the floor between them, her back to the sofa, her head resting against her sister’s knees. Catharine flicked the remote control at the stereo and the tape clicked off. They said nothing for a while, drawn together in wordless meditation, as the sounds of the world outside slowly re-entered their consciousness and established themselves there, pushing aside the spectral images that Rosamond’s narrative had raised. ‘Did you know about all this, Mum?’ Catharine asked, finally. ‘Had Aunt Rosamond told you any of it before?’

‘No,’ Gill answered. ‘No, it’s all new to me.’

‘But you’ve seen these pictures, haven’t you?’

‘Some of them.’ Gill was thinking, already, that as soon as she returned home she would have to retrieve all of Rosamond’s photograph albums from the attic, where Stephen had already stowed them, and look more closely at the pictures they contained.

‘I’d love to visit Warden Farm,’ Elizabeth said, dreamily. ‘What was it like?’

‘It was just as she describes it,’ said Gill, rising to her feet and stretching. ‘We used to spend Christmas Eve there every year, when I was a little girl. I think Aunt Rosamond was even there one time – and Thea was with her.’ She frowned, straining to resurrect a distant memory. ‘I can’t be sure, but there was an older girl there one year, and we didn’t quite know who she was. She must have been about seventeen or eighteen. Yes, I think it would have been Thea.’

‘Can we go there?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Next time we come up to see you, can we all drive over?’

Gill found her handbag and rummaged around inside, looking for lipstick. ‘There wouldn’t be much point. Ivy and Owen handed it down to one of the sons – Raymond, I think – and the farm didn’t do well. He sold up, and the last time I went there it was all shuttered and empty. I think someone bought it in the end – tacked a swimming pool on, and all that sort of thing. But it’s not the same any more.’

They took a taxi from Primrose Hill to Marylebone. The sisters perched on the foldaway seats, with their backs to the driver, while Gill sat facing them, hemmed in on either side by instrument cases, a small amplifier, a canvas holdall cat’s-cradled-full of flexes and cables, and another small flight-case housing some electronic device which she had, so far, been unable to identify. Bright, fleeting amber light from the streetlamps flashed to and fro across her face as she struggled to get comfortable.

‘Do you really need all this stuff?’ she asked Catharine.

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