Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

floated down the last six steps, and he hadn’t known he could—in which case he blooming well ought to have floated that vase, that’s all I can say.”
    â€œBill, I hope you’re not gossiping with Rose.” Miss Bridges swept in with an armful of dresses. “Come and see if any of these will fit with a bit of altering, Rose. And I’ll show you your room as well.” She sailed out of the room while Rose was still fumbling with the big sacking apron she’d been given, and she had to race after her, glaring at Bill as he sniggered.
    â€œAlways the back stairs, remember, Rose, till you get to the first floor. Never the main staircase,” Miss Bridges called down as Rose trotted after her.
    Rose gasped out, “Yes, Miss Bridges.” She was beginning to think she needed to write a list of things she mustn’t do.
    Rose’s room was right at the top of the house, up at least six flights of stairs. At any rate, it felt like six flights—for some reason she had trouble counting them. And how many doors were there? The house wasn’t spooky at all; it was bright, with hundreds of windows that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, and it was spotlessly clean, which Rose approved of. Not a single cobweb. But there was still something mysterious about it. Something slightly disturbing. Rose tried to tell herself that it was just because she had never been in a house this big or this grand before. But she had a worrying feeling that the strangeness was because up here on the main floors, the walls were positively soaked in magic.
    At least her attic room was perfectly normal. The odd, sparkling, shadows-in-your-eyes feeling wore off once they got beyond the carpets. The plain wooden stairs to the servants’ rooms were a little dusty and creaked, and by the time they’d reached the last and tiniest attic bedroom, Rose felt she could breathe again.
    Miss Bridges had had to slow down by the fourth staircase. Now she opened the door and sank down gracefully on the little white bed with the bundle of dresses. “Here you are, Rose,” she said, puffing a little.
    â€œIs this—all for me?” Rose asked, sure that it couldn’t be right. “My own room?”
    Miss Bridges smiled. “Yes. The rooms are too small to share. Susan sleeps next to you, so you can ask her if you need something.”
    Rose nodded, though privately she vowed not even to breathe near Susan if she didn’t have to. She was well used to tiptoeing around the bigger girls at the orphanage. She smiled to herself, thinking how jealous they would be. Her own room—not shared with anyone! And she was to have four dresses, only one a hand-me-down, so she had something to wear while the new ones were sewn. Even knowing that she would have to do most of the sewing couldn’t dim the glory of those dresses.
    Miss Bridges left her to put on the lilac print hand-me-down dress and her apron, reminding her again to come down the back stairs once she got to the main floors. Rose nodded eagerly. She wanted to have just a minute alone in her room—even though it was so small she could almost touch both walls if she stood in the middle, it was hers . It had a shelf by the bed for a candle and hooks for her dresses, and even a tiny looking glass. Rose adjusted her cap in the looking glass, trying hard to make it look as smart as Susan’s. Then she gave her room one last fond look and set off downstairs.
    Rose pattered down the wooden staircase, still in her patched, old boots. As she turned the corner onto the first flight of stairs that might possibly be used by the family, and therefore had carpet—although not the rich plush of the lower floors—she felt the difference. The house hummed. It sang in her head. The walls sparkled, and the corridors seemed to stretch for miles. Rose hung tightly on to the banister, feeling as though she might float away on the wobbling stairs.