Jolene carries her violin case into the church hall as if it is a bag of eggs. She has done it every afternoon this month, and she does it carefully every time. Inside the case, there is a violin worth more than everything else she owns.
乔琳提着她的小提琴盒走进教堂大厅，就像提着一袋鸡蛋。这个月她每天下午都这样，而且每次都小心翼翼。盒子里装着一把比她其余所有家当都值钱的小提琴。
At home, she cannot play it. Her flat has two rooms, three brothers and one thin wall. Every time she lifts the bow, someone bangs on the wall from the other side. The neighbour wants quiet, and her brothers want football on the television. Jolene wants only twenty minutes alone.
在家里，她没法拉琴。她家的公寓有两个房间、三个弟弟和一堵薄薄的墙。每次她一抬起琴弓，墙的另一边就有人砰砰地敲。邻居要安静，弟弟们要在电视上看足球。乔琳想要的只是二十分钟的独处。
So she comes to the hall, where the sewing circle meets. Nobody asked her to join. She came in one afternoon with a torn coat. A tall woman with a tape measure round her neck fixed it in two minutes. Since then, Jolene has stayed to help with the buttons. In return, nobody minds if she sits at the back and practises quietly.
所以她来到这个大厅，缝纫小组就在这里聚会。没有人邀请她加入。有一天下午，她带着一件破了的外套走了进来。一位脖子上挂着卷尺的高个子女士两分钟就把它补好了。从那以后，乔琳就留下来帮忙钉纽扣。作为回报，她坐在后排轻轻练琴，也没人介意。
Quietly is the problem. The hall has a high roof and a stone floor. Every note she plays comes back to her like a ghost. The women are patient, but she sees them look at each other when she plays a wrong note. She feels it on her skin like a draught.
问题就在“轻轻”。大厅的屋顶很高，地面是石头的。她拉出的每个音都像幽灵一样折回到她身边。女士们很有耐心，可她拉错音的时候，会看到她们彼此对视一眼。她能像穿堂风一样感觉到它落在皮肤上。
On this particular afternoon, the circle is making costumes for the winter play. Fabric covers every table, and needles flash in the light. Jolene sits by the big tin of buttons and sorts them by colour. Blue here, green there, white in the lid.
这天下午，小组正在为冬季演出缝制戏服。每张桌子上都铺满了布料，针在光线中闪烁。乔琳坐在大纽扣盒旁，按颜色给纽扣分类。蓝的放这边，绿的放那边，白的放盖子里。
Near the bottom of the tin, her fingers find something heavy. She pulls it out.
在铁盒底部附近，她的手指摸到了一样沉甸甸的东西。她把它掏了出来。
It is a key. It is made of brass and is as long as her hand. The handle is worn and shaped like a clover. The metal is cool and smooth, as if many fingers have held it.
那是一把钥匙。黄铜做的，有她的手那么长。柄已经磨旧了，形状像三叶草。金属冰凉光滑，仿佛有许多手指握过它。
"Look at this," she says.
“快看这个，”她说。
"That's a good one," says the woman with the tape measure. "I've never seen it before."
“这把不错，”脖子上挂着卷尺的女士说，“我以前从没见过。”
"Do you know what it opens?" Jolene asks.
“你知道它能开什么吗？”乔琳问。
The woman shakes her head. She asks the others, one by one. A woman with pins in her mouth shrugs. Another says it looks like a key for a cupboard. A third says that, with a clover like that, it must open something important.
女士摇了摇头。她一个一个地问其他人。一位嘴里叼着别针的女士耸了耸肩。另一位说它看着像橱柜的钥匙。第三位说，柄上有这样的三叶草，它一定能打开什么重要的东西。
Vito, who is sweeping the floor near the stage, stops and leans on his broom. He is sixteen, like Jolene, and he helps in the hall for a school scheme. He knows every corner of the building.
维托正在舞台附近扫地，他停下来，倚着扫帚。他和乔琳一样十六岁，作为学校计划的一部分在大厅里帮忙。他熟悉这栋楼的每个角落。
"A key without a door," he says. "I like that."
“一把没有门的钥匙，”他说，“我喜欢。”
"Everything has a door," Jolene says. "It just takes a while to find it."
“每样东西都有一扇门，”乔琳说，“只是要花点时间去找。”
"Let's find it, then," Vito says.
“那我们就去找吧。”维托说。
They spend the next hour trying every lock in the hall. The key is too big for the kitchen cupboard. It is too big for the small door of the stage store. It does not fit the front doors or the toilets. It does not even fit the fuse box, which has a little lock of its own. Vito holds it up to the light at the end, and he shakes his head.
接下来的一个小时，他们试遍了大厅里的每一把锁。这把钥匙对厨房橱柜来说太大了。对舞台储物间的小门来说也太大了。它打不开前门，也打不开洗手间。甚至连保险丝盒也不行，那只盒子有自己的小锁。最后，维托把它举到灯光下，摇了摇头。
"Maybe it belongs to a door that isn't here any more," he says.
“也许它属于一扇已经不在了的门。”他说。
Jolene sits down on the edge of the stage. She is tired, and the afternoon is almost over. She turns the key over in her hands.
乔琳在舞台边上坐下。她累了，下午也快结束了。她把钥匙在手里翻来覆去。
"I wish I had a door," she says suddenly. She does not know why she says it out loud. "I mean, a room with a door that closes properly. Somewhere I can practise, and no one bangs on the wall."
“我真希望我有一扇门，”她忽然说。她不知道自己为什么会大声说出来。“我是说，一个门能好好关上的房间。一个我能练琴、没有人敲墙的地方。”
Vito sits next to her. "That is a big wish," he says.
维托在她旁边坐下。“这个愿望可不小。”他说。
"I know," Jolene says. "It's a stupid one, too. Nobody gives people rooms." She puts the key in her pocket and stands up. "Sorry. Forget I said it."
“我知道，”乔琳说，“也很蠢。没有人会送人房间的。”她把钥匙放进口袋，站起身。“对不起。就当我没说过。”
But at the other side of the hall, the tall woman has stopped sewing. She is looking at Jolene with her head on one side. Then she looks at the others, and something passes between them like a small, quiet message.
可是在大厅的另一边，那位高个子女士已经停下了手里的针线。她歪着头看着乔琳。然后她看了看其他人，她们之间传过了一个小小的、无声的信息。
For the next five days, Jolene is sure she has made a mistake. The women are busy. They talk in low voices. When she walks in, they sit up straight and hide their hands under the table. One afternoon, she finds a pile of old quilts on the stage. Vito moves it quickly to the back. Another afternoon, she hears a drill.
接下来的五天，乔琳确信自己说错了话。女士们很忙。她们压低了声音交谈。乔琳一走进来，她们就坐得笔直，把手藏到桌子底下。有一天下午，她发现舞台上堆着一摞旧被子。维托飞快地把它挪到了后面。另一个下午，她听到了电钻的声音。
"Are they angry with me?" she asks him on Friday.
“她们是不是生我的气了？”星期五，她问维托。
"I don't think so," Vito says. "I think they are busy." But he looks away, and she does not believe him.
“我不这么想，”维托说，“我觉得她们是在忙。”可他把目光移开了，她不信他。
On Monday, she arrives with her violin, and the hall is strangely tidy. The tables are folded up. The women stand in a line in front of the stage. Vito stands at the end, with his hands behind his back.
星期一，她带着小提琴到了，大厅整齐得出奇。桌子都折叠起来了。女士们在舞台前站成一排。维托站在队伍的末尾，双手背在身后。
"Jolene," says the tall woman. "We have a present for you. It isn't what you asked for, but we hope it will do."
“乔琳，”高个子女士说，“我们有一份礼物要送给你。它不是你许的愿，但我们希望它能派上用场。”
She nods to Vito, and he pulls a rope.
她朝维托点了点头，他拉动了一根绳子。
In the left corner of the hall, a tall frame stands between the stage and the wall. It is made of wood and covered all over with quilt squares. Some are blue and some are green. Some have stars and some have stripes, and a few have buttons. The squares are thick and soft, because there is wadding inside them. Where a door handle should be, there is a loop of ribbon. A small pocket is sewn next to it, with the shape of a key.
在大厅的左边角落里，舞台和墙之间立着一个高高的框架。它是木头做的，满身覆盖着拼布方块。有的蓝，有的绿。有的绣着星星，有的是条纹，还有几块缝着纽扣。方块又厚又软，里面塞了棉絮。本该装门把手的地方，挂着一圈缎带。旁边缝着一个小口袋，形状正好是一把钥匙。
Jolene stares at it. She cannot speak.
乔琳盯着它。说不出话来。
"It's a door," Vito says. "Sort of. It goes round three sides, and the fourth is the wall. It is the quietest corner in the hall."
“这是一扇门，”维托说，“算是吧。它围住三面，第四面是墙。这是大厅里最安静的角落。”
"We took the quilts from the cupboard," says the woman with the pins. "Nobody had used them in years."
“我们把被子从柜子里拿出来了，”嘴里叼别针的女士说，“已经好多年没人用过了。”
"And the key?" Jolene asks. Her voice is small.
“那把钥匙呢？”乔琳问。她的声音很小。
"The key goes in the pocket," says the tall woman. "You can't lock it, I'm afraid. But if the key is in the pocket, it means somebody is practising. Nobody comes in. That is the rule."
“钥匙放进口袋里，”高个子女士说，“恐怕锁不上。不过，只要钥匙在口袋里，就表示有人在练习。谁也不能进来。这就是规矩。”
Jolene walks slowly to the door. She puts her hand on the soft cloth and feels how thick it is. She lifts the ribbon and goes inside. A stool and a music stand are waiting there. The sound of the hall fades behind her, as if a hand has covered her ears.
乔琳慢慢走向那扇门。她把手放在柔软的布面上，感觉到它有多厚。她提起缎带，走了进去。里面有一把凳子和一个乐谱架在等着。大厅的声音在她身后渐渐远去，就像有一只手捂住了她的耳朵。
She puts the violin under her chin and lifts the bow. For the first time in months, the note does not come back to her like a ghost.
她把小提琴架在下巴下，举起琴弓。几个月来第一次，那个音没有像幽灵一样折回来。
Outside, Vito holds the key. He slips it into the pocket and gives the ribbon a small tug, to make sure everything holds. The tiny brass handle swings and taps against the wood.
外面，维托拿着钥匙。他把它滑进口袋，轻轻拽了一下缎带，确认一切牢固。小小的黄铜柄晃了晃，在木头上轻轻敲了一下。
Click.
咔嗒。
