Neil Gaiman Coraline - Глава 4

Текст песни "Neil Gaiman — Coraline - Глава 4"

The house looked exactly the same from the outside. Or almost exactly the same; around Miss Spink and Miss Forcible's door were blue and red lightbulbs that flashed on and off spelling out words, the lights chasing each other around the door. On and off, around and around. ASTOUNDING! was followed by A THEATRICAL and then TRIUMPH!!!

It was a sunny, cold day, exactly like the one she'd left.

There was a polite noise from behind her.

She turned round. Standing on the wall next to her was a large black cat, identical to the large black cat she'd seen in the grounds at home.

"Good afternoon," said the cat.

Its voice sounded like the voice at the back of Coraline's head, the voice she thought words in, but a man's voice, not a girl's.

"Hello," said Coraline. "I saw a cat like you in the garden at home. You must be the other cat."

The cat shook its head. "No," it said. I'm not the other anything. I'm me." It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. "You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean."

"I suppose. But if you're the same cat I saw at home, how can you talk?"

Cats don't have shoulders, not like people do. But the cat shrugged, in one smooth movement that started at the tip of its tail and ended in a raised movement of its whiskers. "I can talk."

"Cats don't talk at home."

"No?" said the cat.

"No," said Coraline.

The cat leapt smoothly from the wall to the grass, near Coraline's feet. It stared up at her.

"Well, you're the expert on these things," said the cat drily. "After all, what would I know? I'm only a cat."

It began to walk away, head and tail held high and proud.

"Come back," said Coraline. "Please. I'm sorry. I really am."

The cat stopped walking, and sat down, and began to wash itself, thoughtfully, apparently unaware of Coraline's existence.

"We . . . We could be friends, you know," said Coraline.

"We could be rare specimens of an exotic breed of African dancing elephants," said the cat. "But we're not. At least," it added cattily, after darting a brief look at Coraline, "I'm not."

Coraline sighed.

"Please. What's your name?" Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?"

The cat yawned slowly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. "Cats don't have names," it said.

"No?" said Coraline.

"No," said the cat. "Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

There was something irritatingly self-centred about the cat, Coraline decided. As if it were, in its opinion, the only thing in any world or place that could possibly be of any importance.

Half of her wanted to be very rude to it; the other half of her wanted to be polite and deferential. The polite half won.

"Please, what is this place?"

The cat glanced around briefly. "It's here," said the cat.

"I can see that. Well, how did you get here?"

"Like you did. I walked," said the cat. "Like this."

Coraline watched as the cat walked slowly across the lawn. It walked behind a tree, but didn't come out the other side. Coraline went over to the tree and looked behind it. The cat was gone.

She walked back towards the house. There was another polite noise from behind her. It was the cat.

"By the by," it said. "It was sensible of you to bring protection. I'd hang on to it, if I were you."

"Protection?"

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