Neil Gaiman - Coraline - Глава 2
текст песни

The next day it had stopped raining, but a thick white fog had lowered over the house.

"I'm going for a walk," said Coraline.

"Don't go too far," said her mother. "And dress up warmly."

Coraline put on her blue coat with a hood, her red scarf and her yellow Wellington boots.

She went out.

Miss Spink was walking her dogs. "Hello, Caroline," said Miss Spink. "Rotten weather."

"Yes," said Coraline.

"I played Portia once," said Miss Spink. "Miss Forcible talks about her Ophelia, but it was my Portia they came to see. When we trod the boards."

Miss Spink was bundled up in pullovers and cardigans, so she seemed more small and circular than ever. She looked like a large, fluffy egg. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes seem huge.

"They used to send flowers to my dressing room. They did," she said.

"Who did?" asked Coraline.

Miss Spink looked around cautiously, looking first over one shoulder and then over the other, peering into the mist as though someone might be listening.

"Men," she whispered. Then she tugged the dogs to heel and waddled off back towards the house.

Coraline continued her walk.

She was three quarters of the way around the house when she saw Miss Forcible, standing at the door to the flat she shared with Miss Spink.

"Have you seen Miss Spink, Caroline?"

Coraline told her that she had, and that Miss Spink was out walking the dogs.

"I do hope she doesn't get lost; it'll bring on her shingles if she does, you'll see," said Miss Forcible. You'd have to be an explorer to find your way around in this fog."

"I'm an explorer," said Coraline.

"Of course you are, lovey," said Miss Forcible. "Don't get lost, now."

Coraline continued walking through the garden in grey mist. She always kept in sight of the house.

After about ten minutes of walking she found herself back where she had started.

The hair over her eyes was limp and wet, and her face felt damp.

"Ahoy! Caroline!" called the crazy old man upstairs.

"Oh, hello," said Coraline.

She could hardly see the old man through the mist.

He walked down the steps on the outside of the house that led up past Coraline's front door to the door of his flat. He walked down very slowly. Coraline waited at the bottom of the steps.

"The mice do not like the mist," he told her. "It makes their whiskers droop."

"I don't like the mist much, either," admitted Coraline.

The old man leaned down, so close that the bottom of his moustache tickled Coraline's ear. "The mice have a message for you," he whispered.

Coraline didn't know what to say.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No," said Coraline.

The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

He picked up a milk bottle from the bottom step, and started back up to his attic flat.

Coraline went indoors. Her mother was working in her study. Her mother's study smelt of flowers.

"What shall I do?" asked Coraline.

"When do you go back to school?" asked her mother.

"Next week," said Coraline.

"Hmph," said her mother. "I suppose I shall have to get you new school clothes. Remind me, dear, or else I'll forget," and she went back to typing things on the computer screen.

"What shall I do?" repeated Coraline.

"Draw something." Her mother passed her a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen.