Free The Ugly Sister by Winston Graham Page B

and a small black man with curly grey hair, in a creased dinner suit, came from the wings carrying a violin. When he too had plucked a string or two, a tall portly man, balding, with a trim grey beard, stood up with an air of authority at the side of the stage and welcomed the Bath Ensemble to Falmouth on their first visit. Tonight they were to be led by Mr Joseph Emidy, to whom Falmouth bade a special welcome on his return to the town.
    When the music began, the resonance of the strings, the reedy tenors and baritones, spoke of a world I did not know before. They moved me. I had not heard anything like this. Mozart, Cherubini, Haydn, Marcello. In all these one watched and listened to Joseph Emidy and marvelled at his extra dexterity, the singing tone of his instrument.
    Then came his own concerto, in which all this skill was deployed afresh. It was a very popular jolly piece, and seemed to incorporate sea shanties and other well-known tunes. When it was finished the audience rose to him; it was entirely to their liking; and nothing would satisfy them except that he should play two encores.
    Two hours passed in a daze. I could not believe it when suddenly it was over, and the tall bald man got up to make a speech of thanks and appreciation. Satisfied, excited, warm and content, I looked out of a window of the hall, and saw that darkness was just falling. People seemed reluctant to disperse, but I knew I must go.
    A hand grasped my arm.
    â€˜Good?’
    It was Bram, eyes narrowed, slightly laughing. His hand was like an electric charge.
    â€˜Wonderful,’ I said. ‘It was – so very good. Thank you for inviting me. Wonderful.’
    â€˜Take tea now. Tea and cakes are always served after these events.’
    â€˜Oh, I cannot, Bram. I am already later than I ought to be.’
    â€˜You would meet Mr Joseph Emidy.’
    I hesitated. It was a great temptation. But …
    â€˜How did you – how did you know I was so fond of music?’
    â€˜Thomasine told me.’
    â€˜Why did you not invite her, then?’
    â€˜You are musical. She is not. How did you come?’
    â€˜Today? By sea.’
    â€˜In a small boat?’
    â€˜Smallish, yes.’
    â€˜Who brought you?’
    â€˜I came myself.’
    He drew in a breath and laughed. ‘You mean just on your own?’
    â€˜I hired the boat in St Mawes. It was no trouble.’
    â€˜But will you find trouble when you return?’
    â€˜Maybe. Yes, maybe.’
    â€˜For you must not return tonight.’
    â€˜Of course I must!’
    â€˜Take tea first.’
    â€˜Bram, I cannot . I shall probably be in the greatest trouble already. More than you can imagine. Though if I am quick now and very lucky …’
    While talking I had been sidling up the aisle and he following. People were standing talking, not moving to go at all. So we reached the big doors, where more people were standing, looking out at the day.
    The thunderous clouds had moved in from the west and were now overhead. It was just light enough to see their edges twisting and curling.
    â€˜Our climate is well known for its changes of mood,’ he observed in my ear.
    â€˜Well, I have to go, I have no choice. It will be all right. I shall be across in half an hour.’
    â€˜Have you yet properly observed the weather?’
    We had come down the steps. Suddenly we were in the wind, and there was rain falling diagonally, shining in the lamplight. It fell on my face like fine spray, with a suggestion of salt in it.
    â€˜You cannot go in this, my dearest Emma. You would surely drown, and even facing your mother’s wrath is to be preferred to that!’
    I looked about, angrily up at the sky, frowned towards the harbour, which was not yet visible because of the houses.
    â€˜Bram, it’s not as bad as that, I’m sure!’
    â€˜I might come with you, but how should I return? I only have evening clothes … But where are yours? You