Free Verity Sparks and the Scarlet Hand by Susan Green Page A

outside the music room. She was a small, pretty woman with dark hair and, despite all those children, a fine figure. Like Helen, she was married to a much older gentleman. Unlike her, she seemed to radiate happiness and contentment.
    “So glad you could come. It’s quite a crush in here tonight. Squeeze in wherever you can, my dears.” She waved her hand towards the crowded room, and I noted the magnificent garnet-and-gold bracelet on her wrist. Mr Leviny must be a very successful businessman indeed, I thought.
    There was a bit of hushing and shooshing as everyone got settled, and then Mr Leviny walked up to stand by the piano.
    He beamed at the audience. “Welcome, my dear friends, to our
soirée musicale
.”

    I only really began to pay attention when Connie got up to accompany Helen. She played beautifully, as usual. When Helen, after singing her three songs, returned to her seat I was surprised to see Connie remain sitting at the piano. I hadn’t known she was going to perform a solo. She took a deep breath, poised her hands over the keyboard and began.
    I’d often listened as Connie accompanied singers or played tunes for dancing. But this … this was different. The music was pure emotion, deep and mysterious and strange, as if each note was played in our hearts, not just on the piano keys. The whole room was spellbound. I sneaked a glance at Harold. I could tell he felt it too.
    It was as clear as daylight that Connie was made for music. As Papa said, she was a real
artiste
. I thought of Mama. She’d had the determination to follow her gift. Did Connie?
    One last lingering chord. Connie lifted her hands from the keys and the room erupted with clapping, cheers and excited chatter.
    “Magnificent! And so young. Who is she?”
    “Where is she from?”
    “Encore! Encore!”
    With all the fuss and attention, Connie began to look like a trapped animal. Poppy darted to her side and put her arm around Connie’s waist. Papa followed and embraced her with one of his protective bear hugs.
    “Encore!”
    Mrs Leviny, thank goodness, stepped in. She thanked Connie and then announced supper.
    I felt Harold’s hand lightly on my elbow.
    “May I take you in to supper, Verity?”
    “I wish you would,” I said. “I’m starving.”
    “But first, would you like me to get those flowers out of your hair?”
    I stared at him, astonished. The wire stems of Helen’s rosebuds were sticking into my scalp and I’d been uncomfortable all evening. He was indeed a noticing sort of person.
    “Turn your head towards me and stand still.”
    I am not quite sure what I felt as Harold, standing close, removed the rosebuds one by one. Now suddenly I had a special awareness of him. I noticed the flecks of green in his hazel eyes, the gentleness of his hands, how careful he was not to tug at my hair. It was a new feeling for me, and I didn’t know what it was.
    “There we are. Better?”
    I rubbed my head. “Much better,” I said.
    Trust. That’s what the feeling was. Trust and an odd intuition that our friendship was going to be very important to me.
    “They didn’t suit you, anyway. Too fussy.” He popped the rosebuds in his pocket and we went to get our supper.

    While everyone else ate supper, Papa, with Connie and Poppy at his side, spent a long time in conversation with an elderly lady. In her old-fashioned black costume with her hair pulled back in a severe bun, she seemed nothing out of the ordinary. Yet something made me take another look. Was she a great lady, perhaps? An aristocrat who’d come down in the world? And what were she and Papa talking about?
    After ten minutes or so, Papa bustled up to us with Connie and Poppy close behind. Connie looked exhausted but happy, and Papa was obviously beside himself with excitement.
    “I have some wonderful news. Madame Fodor has asked Connie to call on her tomorrow afternoon,” he said.
    It didn’t sound all that wonderful to me, but when Papa explained that Madame had