The Blue Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

presently a tall dark man came and sat down at it. “That’s Kurelek, who’s going to play for us,” Clare whispered. “He’s brilliant. He’s Polish.”
    Silence fell and Kurelek began to play. Rose suddenly realized that Stephen had come up quietly and was standing just behind her with his hand on the back of Clare’s chair. Rose moved up to make room for him to sit down beside her on the arm of the big chair but he smiled slightly and shook his head, indicating that he preferred to stand. She relaxed and tried to give herself up to the music, but what Kurelek was playing was unfamiliar to her and she found her mind wandering and her eyes straying round the room.
    Yes, this was evidently two rooms knocked into one, for there were windows at each end and two fireplaces. Both rooms had the same beautiful pine panelling as in the hall; the floor was of polished boards strewn with old rugs. Heavy green velvet curtains covered the windows. She wondered what the windows looked out on to at the other end. This end would be the street. She noticed the carved pine mantelpieces with the pair of landscape pictures above them. She wondered who they were by and what they were of.
    Kurelek stopped playing to a burst of applause and almost immediately started on something else equally unfamiliar to Rose. Clare leaned across and whispered to Stephen: “He’s terrific.” Stephen nodded and remained standing where he was, just behind Rose. Rose was very conscious of his close presence and she wished she could see his face. She had a feeling that he was looking down at her rather than at the pianist across the room. It was all she could do not to turn round and look at him, and directly the music stopped again she could resist the temptation no longer. His eyes caught hers and held them. He was applauding automatically but the whole of his attention was riveted on her. They might have been alone in the room. She found herself blushing and reluctantly withdrew her eyes.
    The pianist had got up but the applause was such that he sat down again. This time he played some Chopin and Rose was able to realize how good he was, for she had heard this piece played dozens of times on the wireless.
    When it was over she turned to Stephen with a smile. “You like Chopin,” he said.
    “I suppose one always likes what one knows—in music anyway.”
    For the moment at any rate there was to be no more playing, and people began to circulate, getting up from the floor and from their chairs. Stephen went back to his responsibilities as host. Rose stayed close to Clare and when she moved over to speak to Kurelek Rose went with her.
    Presently Stephen came up to her again. “Come and have a drink,” he said.
    “I’ve got one.”
    “It needs filling up.” He took her glass from her and she followed him over to a table where drinks of various kinds were set out.
    “You were going to tell me the story of the blue rose,” he said.
    “Oh, yes.” Her heart was beating again so fast that her speech sounded thick. “I am sorry I haven’t got on proper clothes,” she said. “I ought to have rung up Clare to find out what to wear.”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “You’re perfectly dressed. But why were you so late?”
    “I nearly didn’t come at all.”
    “Why not?”
    “I was shy of coming all alone.”
    “How absurd conventions are! I had to organize all this just in order to see you again. Just because I didn’t like to ring you up. Imagine what I should have felt if you hadn’t come.”
    “You gave this party just in order to see me again?” she asked incredulously.
    “If I’d asked you out by yourself the first time what would you have thought of me?”
    “But what if I hadn’t come this evening?”
    “I would have had to organize a bigger, better party. Get some film star here—someone you wouldn’t have been able to resist! Get you here somehow. What precious time one wastes because of these idiotic