Small Blue Thing Read Online Free PDF

go up to the top, there was too much to do on the project.
    The cool and gloom inside St Paul’s was a marked contrast from the dazzling sunshine and frenetic activity outside. As we walked through the entrance it was as if someone had pulled a shutter down over the brightness, noise and twenty-first century living going on outside. We shuffled through the turnstiles with the rest of the class as our eyes adjusted slowly to the muted light. Something about the atmosphere was strangely intimidating, and all the chattering in relief that the drive was over petered out as we all gazed up into the height of the roof. Every visitor was the same, I noticed: no one was able to come in and not be awed by the huge space. At this end, the cathedral was empty, with no pews or monuments, just a vast expanse of chequerboard floor and towering columns reaching up to the vaulted ceiling. No matter how many times I had been here before it always took my breath away.
    Grace and I got out our notebooks and maps and began tolook for the monuments we needed to sketch. As we walked up the centre of the nave Grace started to giggle.
    “Imagine Lady Di walking all the way along here in that dress,” she snorted. I shuddered: I couldn’t imagine anything worse, talking that long walk with the world watching, to marry a man who didn’t really love her.
    “If I ever get married I’m going to run off to a beach,” I agreed, “not get dolled up in a huge frilly dress and cost my parents thousands.” Dad might disagree though, I thought wryly. He was the only reason I might consider the whole white meringue routine. Rob’s face flickered into my mind, but as I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, he was instantly replaced by a memory of the stunning face I had seen last night. I shook my head to clear it – I really should concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.
    Grace and I had reached the central part of the cathedral, under the spectacular dome.
    “Wow,” she breathed and we both stared up. The dome was magnificent, curving majestically high above us. There was a quiet buzz of conversation, and we saw people up in the Whispering Gallery, trying out the famous acoustics. You were supposed to be able to sit around the edge of the huge circular balcony that ran around the inside of the dome, and whisper against the wall. Then someone on the far side, the whole width of the building away, should be able to hear the whisper. I had never been able to make it work, but the tourists seemed to love it.
    “I need to check out Nelson,” Grace muttered, biting her lip as she consulted her map.
    “Nelson’s in the crypt. The entrance is over there, I think,” I said. “I’ll be there in a second; I just want to look at something in the middle.” Grace started rummaging in her bag for a pencil as shewent to find the tomb.
    I walked slowly forward until I was below the exact centre of the dome, which was marked on the floor by a large mosaic star. High above me I could see the glass panel of the peephole, but before I could work out if anyone up there was looking down at me, I felt dizzy from leaning backwards. I straightened up and froze with shock.
    Directly in front of me was the boy whose face I had imagined last night. He was even more gorgeous in the flesh, with spectacular bone structure and tousled dark blond hair. I could barely breathe and was struggling to regain my composure when I realised that he was looking at me with an equally stunned expression. He quickly looked over his shoulder, as if to check that I was looking at him and not at something behind him. It seemed a strange thing to do given that his looks could stop traffic. His eyes were a vibrant, stunning blue, and now I could see him properly there was a very slight kink in his nose, as if it might have been broken years before. As I stared I realised that I had seen the colour of his eyes before – they were exactly the same blue as the stone in my bracelet.