Elizabeth er borte

Jeg har lest "Elizabeth er borte", eller jeg har lest den i den engelske utgaven "Elizabeth is missing". Boka er skrevet av Emma Healey og er på en måte en krim. Bokas hovedperson Maud er gammel og glemsom og blir ikke tatt på alvor når hun snakker med familien sin om at hennes beste venninne er borte og at noe skjedde med søsteren hennes da de var unge.

Utdrag fra boka:
'Well, Mrs Horsham', he says, coming into the room, winding up the earphones to a Walkman,or whatever they are now. 'I'm rather hard pressed this morning. What did you want to see me about?'
He's young, my doctor. Very young and very handsome, with dark hair falling over his forehead. I smile at him, but he doesn't smile back. 'I'm all right,' I say. 'What's the fuss?'

He breathes out through his nose, an impatient sound, like a foraging animal. 'You called the surgery, Mrs Horsham. You said you we in urgent need of a house call.' He looks at Helen, then sist down, holds my wrist in his hand and presses it, looking at his watch. Can you remember what it was about?' he says. 'You've been ringing fairly frequent of late. And people don't usually ask for house calls when they are all right.'
Helen shakes her head at me behind him. 
'
I haven't been calling frequently,' I say, still looking at Helen. 
'That's not quite true, is it?', he says, scribbling something on a notepad. 'In fact you've phoned us twelve times in the last fortnight.'

Twelve times? He must have me confused with somebody else: the wires must have been crossed, or perhaps the the telephonist put the wrong person through.
'Now, I'm not suggesting you're making things up, really, I'm not, but I wonder whether there isn't something else going on here.' He takes out a little torch. 'Perhaps it's not something strictly medical.'
'I'm sorry,' I say, turning from the light, which is like a fly buzzing in my face. 'But I really don't think it can heve been me who phoned all those times. I usually have a really good health.' 
'I know you do,' he says, putting a hand on my forehead so I can't move away and pointing the torch at one of my eyes. 'Which is why it's a little frustrating to be called out by you when I have genuinely ill people to see.'

I don't know what to think, I can't concentrate with this light flicking, flicking over my skin, but he tells me I must open my eyes. 'I don't understand it,' I say. 'I'm not like my friend Elizabeth. She can barely barely leave the house. Her sight's poor and she's unsteady on her feet. Whereas I-'
'Whereas you are ub great shape for your age. I know' 

He puts the torch away and I frown at him. For a minute I can't think what's he's here for. 'But I meant to tell you, Doctor,' I say 'My friend Elizabeth. She's missing.'
'Oh, mum. Don't start that again,' Helen jumps in. 'Sorry, it's a bit if of an obsession of hers at the moment. I've told her I'll fint out what's happened.'
'It's not an obsession. I don't know how long she's been gone -'
'I'm sure your friend will be in touch. You must relax and let her family take care of her. Okay? Relaxing is the key. Right. I must get to my other patients.' He picks up his bag and turns to Helen. 'I see she's had a blood test this week too'. There is a brief look at me. 'You might want to arrange for a faculties assessment. At some point.'

He is already inserting the little plugs, the wire shells, back into his ears, while he talks on to Helen, and I wonder what it is he listens to. I cup my hands over my own ears, straining to hear the sea-like music of my own circulation, the singing of my blood. But hands don't work as well as shells; they don't create the right ecco, or whatever it is. Helen comes back after letting the doctor out and sits on the arm of my chair. 

'You didn't have to cover your ears, Mum,' she says. 'He wasn't shouting. But now will you promise not to phone the surgery again? And stop all this nonsense abut Elizabeth?' 
I don't answer. 

'Mum?' She grabs my arm and I cry out. 'What's the matter?' she says, pulling back my sleeve. There are bruises, staining my skin, spreading round the elbow, fanning out like wings. 'My God. Why didn't you tell the doctor about this? I'll call him and ask him to come back.'
'No, don't,' I say. 'I can't stand that fly in my face. I don't want him here again.'
'I'm sorry.' Helen slides down into a croaching position in front of me. She holds my hand. 'I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry I didn't tell the doctor to look at you properly. How did you get these bruises, Mum?'
'It was an umbrella,' I say, but really I can't remember. 

Beskrivelsene av hvordan Maud strever med å skille fortid fra nåtid, tanker fra realiteter, minner fra det som skjer nå, er virkelig fasinerende. Samtidig er det trist å lese hvordan en gammel dame blir behandlet av sine omgivelser og hvordan det er lett å tro at alt som kommer fra den gamles munn kun er tull.

Fra forlagets side omtales dette som en krim. Og det er jo en krim, men for meg er det først og fremst en god beskrivelse av hvordan det kan være å bli gammel. Fra forlagets omtale:
Maud har blitt glemsom. Hun fortsetter å kjøpe ferskener selv om skapet er fullt. Hun glemmer stadig å drikke koppene med te hun gjør i stand, og hun skriver lapper og notater for å minne seg selv på ting. Men Maud er fast bestemt på å finne ut hva som har skjedd med venninnen, Elizabeth, og hva det har å gjøre med den uoppklarte forsvinningen av hennes søster Sukey, mange år tilbake, like etter krigen.

Jeg likte denne boka veldig godt! Anbefales varmt. En sterk femmer på terningen fra meg. Personbeskrivelsene er gode og jeg ble fanget av historiene og av ønsket om å finne ut hva som skjedde med Mauds søster og hva som har skjedd med Elizabeth.