The left-luggage room at the back of the bus station had no windows, and Sade liked it that way. The air was cool and still, and the shelves ran in tidy rows to the ceiling. The noise of departing engines reached her only as a distant hum. She had worked there for six years. In that time she had learned that people leave a surprising number of things behind, and that almost none of them ever explain why.
汽车站后面的行李寄存室没有窗户，萨德喜欢这样。空气清凉而安静，货架一排排整整齐齐地排到天花板。发动机出站的噪音传到她这里，只剩下遥远的嗡嗡声。她在这里工作了六年。这些年里她明白了，人们会落下数量惊人的东西，而且几乎没有人解释过为什么。
There was one piece of furniture in the room that Sade had never managed to improve. It was a small wooden table by the door, where customers signed the ledger and counted their coins. One of its legs was shorter than the others, and the whole table rocked whenever anybody leaned on it. She had slid a folded card under the leg more than once, but the card always worked its way out.
这间屋子里有一件家具，萨德一直没能把它弄好。那是门边的一张小木桌，顾客在上面签登记簿、数硬币。桌子有一条腿比其他的短，只要有人往上一靠，整张桌子就会晃。她不止一次往那条腿下塞过一张折起来的卡片，可卡片总是会慢慢滑出来。
The cello arrived on a Monday, a little before eight.
大提琴是在一个星期一的八点前一点点送来的。
It came in a battered black case that was almost as tall as the girl who carried it. She was perhaps twenty, with a thin face and a heavy coat. She stood like someone used to apologising for taking up space. She set the case upright against the counter and pushed a ticket across the wood.
它装在一只破旧的黑色琴盒里，琴盒几乎和背着它的姑娘一样高。她大约二十岁，脸瘦瘦的，穿着一件厚外套。她站着的样子，像是习惯了为占用空间而道歉。她把琴盒竖靠在柜台边，把寄存单推过木头台面。
"One bag, please," she said. "Until six this evening."
“寄一件，麻烦您，”她说，“到晚上六点。”
"Name?" asked Sade.
“名字？”萨德问。
"Safiya."
“萨菲娅。”
Sade wrote it in the ledger and handed her a numbered tag. The table rocked as the girl signed her name. Safiya steadied it with one hand, without comment, as people do with a rocking table they have no hope of fixing.
萨德把名字写进登记簿，递给她一个有编号的牌子。姑娘签名的时候，桌子晃了起来。萨菲娅一声不吭地用一只手扶稳了它，就像人们面对一张无望修好的晃桌子时那样。
At six she returned, collected the cello, and left. On Tuesday she came again, and on Wednesday, and on every day after that. She was always polite, always quick, and always on time. She said nothing to Sade that was not strictly necessary.
六点，她回来取走大提琴，离开了。星期二她又来了，星期三也来了，此后每一天都来。她总是彬彬有礼，总是动作麻利，总是准时。除非必要，她对萨德一句话也不多说。
For three weeks, Sade said nothing either.
三个星期里，萨德也什么都没说。
She was aware of a question growing in the room, quietly, like a plant in the corner. Who carries a cello to a bus station every morning and leaves it for ten hours? It could not be a commuter's habit, since a musician would want her instrument close. It could not be an accident, because accidents do not arrive on a timetable. Yet each time the girl appeared, Sade found a reason not to ask. It was not her business. People came and went, and the whole purpose of her job was to hold things without wondering about them.
她感觉到一个问题在这间屋子里悄悄长大，像墙角的一株植物。谁会每天早上把大提琴带到汽车站，一放就是十个小时？这不可能是通勤者的习惯，因为乐手会想让自己的乐器留在身边。也不可能是意外，因为意外不会按时刻表出现。可每次姑娘一出现，萨德就找出一个理由不去问。这不关她的事。人们来来去去，她这份工作的全部意义，就是替人保管东西而不去琢磨。
Her colleague Dario had a theory. "She is a spy," he said, with total seriousness, over lunch one day. "Or she is smuggling something inside it."
她的同事达里奥有个说法。“她是间谍，”有一天吃午饭时，他一本正经地说，“要不然就是在里面藏了走私的东西。”
"It's a cello," said Sade.
“那是大提琴，”萨德说。
"That is exactly what a spy would say about a cello."
“间谍说起大提琴，说的就是这句话。”
She did not laugh, though she wanted to. Instead she watched the clock on the wall, and she realised that she had started to look forward to eight o'clock.
她没有笑，尽管她很想笑。她看着墙上的钟，意识到自己已经开始期待八点钟的到来。
On the fourth Monday the girl was late. She came through the door at ten past eight, out of breath. The case bumped the table so hard that it rocked and almost tipped the ledger onto the floor. Safiya caught it, and for the first time her composure cracked.
第四个星期一，姑娘迟到了。她八点十分才进门，上气不接下气。琴盒撞到桌子，桌子晃得厉害，登记簿差点掉到地上。萨菲娅一把接住，她的镇定第一次破了功。
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry. I always make a mess of this."
“对不起，”她说，“真的对不起。我总是把这里弄得一团糟。”
"You didn't," said Sade. "It's the table. It has been rocking for six years."
“不是你，”萨德说，“是桌子。它已经晃了六年了。”
They both looked at it. The short leg tapped twice against the floor, as though it had heard.
她们一起看着它。那条短腿在地上轻轻敲了两下，仿佛听见了。
Something in that small silence made the question impossible to carry any longer. Sade put down her pen.
这一小段沉默里，有什么东西让那个问题再也没法憋在心里。萨德放下了笔。
"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer."
“我能问你一件事吗？你可以不回答。”
The girl's shoulders lifted slightly. "Of course."
姑娘的肩膀微微抬了一下。“当然可以。”
"Why do you leave your cello here? Every day, I mean. You obviously play. Wouldn't you want it with you?"
“你为什么把大提琴放在这儿？我是说每天都放。你显然会拉琴，难道不想带在身边吗？”
For a moment Safiya said nothing, and Sade wondered whether she had made an enormous mistake. Then the girl let out a long breath, almost a laugh, as if she had been waiting a long time to be asked.
萨菲娅一时没有说话，萨德心想自己是不是犯了个天大的错误。接着，姑娘长长地呼出一口气，几乎像是在笑，好像她已经等了很久，等着有人来问。
"I live in a shared flat," she said. "Four people, one thin wall. My flatmates work nights, so they sleep through the day, and the neighbours complain if I play in the evening. I study at the music college across the river, but the practice rooms are always booked. I walk from home to this station, and the college is beyond it. The lecture buses are far too crowded for a cello. People stare. They shove. Last year somebody cracked the case." She glanced at the battered black lid. "So I leave it here during the day and collect it after the lectures end. I practise in a park beside the river, if the light is good."
“我住在合租的房子里，”她说，“四个人，隔着一堵薄墙。室友们上夜班，白天要睡觉，我晚上拉琴，邻居又要投诉。我在河对岸的音乐学院读书，可练琴房总是被订满。我从家走到这个车站，学院在车站再过去一点。上课的公交车太挤了，装不下一把大提琴。人们盯着看，还推搡。去年有人把琴盒弄裂了。”她瞥了一眼那只破旧的黑盖子。“所以白天我把它放在这里，下课以后再来取。天气好、光线好的话，我就在河边的公园里练。”
"And if it isn't?"
“要是天气不好呢？”
"Then I sit by the bridge and pretend I'm playing in my head." She shrugged, and the shrug did not quite hide how tired she was. "I didn't tell you because it seemed silly. A grown woman who rents a locker for a cello."
“那我就坐在桥边，在脑子里假装拉琴。”她耸了耸肩，那一耸肩没能完全掩住她的疲惫。“我没告诉你，是因为觉得这事挺傻的。一个成年女人，租个柜子放大提琴。”
Sade looked at the case. She looked at the cool rows of silent luggage. She looked at the long empty space at the end of the room behind the last rack. Nobody ever used it, because the only socket in the wall had stopped working years ago.
萨德看着那只琴盒。她看着一排排清凉而沉默的行李。她看着房间尽头，最后一个货架后面那一长条空地。从来没人用过它，因为墙上唯一的插座多年前就坏了。
"Would the park be better in winter?" she asked.
“冬天的公园会好些吗？”她问。
"No. It's freezing, and all the benches are cold iron." Safiya almost smiled. "Why?"
“不会。冻死人，长椅都是冰冷的铁条。”萨菲娅几乎笑了。“怎么这么问？”
"Because this room is quiet." Sade spoke slowly, and she was surprised to find that her voice was steady. "The walls are thick. Nobody comes in after half past eight in the evening, and I close at ten. If you came after your lectures, and you didn't mind the shelves, you could play in the back."
“因为这间屋子很安静。”萨德说得很慢，她惊讶地发现自己的声音竟然很平稳。“墙很厚。晚上八点半以后没有人进来，我十点才关门。要是你下课以后过来，不介意这些货架的话，你可以在后面拉琴。”
Safiya stared at her. "I couldn't. It isn't allowed."
萨菲娅盯着她。“我不能。这不允许。”
"The ledger doesn't say anything about cellos." Sade lifted a folded sheet of card from the counter, the same one she had tried so many times before, and crouched beside the table. "I'll need a witness, though. Somebody to sit at the table and tell me if the sound is too loud."
“登记簿上没写不许拉大提琴。”萨德从柜台上拿起一张折起来的卡片，就是她从前试过那么多次的那张，蹲在桌子旁边。“不过我需要一个见证人。有人坐在桌子这儿，告诉我声音会不会太大。”
Then she pressed the card firmly under the short leg and rose to her feet. The table stood perfectly still.
然后她把卡片用力塞进那条短腿下面，站了起来。桌子稳稳地立着，纹丝不动。
"Sit," she said.
“坐吧，”她说。
