Aug
4
The Rain Before It Falls
‘Your favourite sort of rain?’ said Thea. I remember that she was frowning, and pondering these words and then announced: ‘Well, I like the rain before it falls.’ Rebecca smiled at that, but I said (very pedantically, I suppose): ‘Before it falls, though, darling, it isn’t really rain.’ Thea said: ‘What is it, then?’ And I explained: ‘It’s just moisture, really. Moisture in the clouds.’ Thea looked down and became absorbed, once again, in sorting through the pebbles on the beach: she picked two of them up and started tapping them together. The sound and the feel of it seemed to give her pleasure. I went on: ‘You see, there’s no such thing as the rain before it falls. It has to fall, or it isn’t rain.’ It was a silly point to be making to a little girl; I rather regretted starting on it. But Thea seemed to be having no difficulty grasping the concept; rather the reverse - for after a few moments she looked at me and shook her head pityingly, as if it was testing her patience to discuss such matters with a dimwit.’ Of course there’s no such thing,’ she said. ‘That’s why it’s my favourite. Something can still make you happy, can’t it, even if it isn’t real?’A wonderful story; very sad though. Jonathan Coe tells a sad, melancholy story easily as well he does the light-hearted ones I’ve read previously.