OCR Text |
Show short story, part II .. . n l l n Lrabriel rassey "Oh yes," says Rebecca almost inaudibly. The man's hand reached out towards hers and held it for a second, his fingers pressing gently into her palm, while across the table his eyes glowed into hers. The sun shone, the traffic passed, and in a moment Gabriel Passey was striding away through the crowd. S: S! Out of one of the topmost windows win-dows of a sleek apartment house a man was leaning, elbows resting on the sill. Along the road, far below, be-low, two small figures approached, two girls. The warm wind carried to the waiting man, the sound of singing, a song of Snadi Shaw's. "When I was a child, I thought as a child . . ." The melody stopped abruptly and words broke in. "D' you think that sounds all right? I wish I'd had more time to practice. Oh Rebecca, Tm so nervous." The answer was too soft for the man to catch. The girls were almost al-most underneath his window now. Suddenly the man leaned forward, calling out "Bonjour!" The girls looked up, smiled and waved back. "Wait I'll be down in a minute," he called, and soon was shaking hands with the girls in the hall. Gliding up on a smooth polished elevator, stepping out onto a sinking sink-ing carpet of dove-grey, and confronting con-fronting their own reflections as they met with a vast mirror just inside the, door of the apartment, both girls felt as though living in a world more dream-like than real. Maureen's mind was hard with nervous excitement, while Rebecca felt dazzled arid warmed but at paece in the presence of the little Frenchman. (to be continued) by Silvia Goller Unexpectedly the Frenchman's glance met hers and he smiled, a warm, quick, artless smile. Rebecca felt the sun dancing around her as she smiled back. She began to listen to the conversation again. "You see, Maureen, I am an agent for a record company." (How sweet, his oddly pronounced English!) Eng-lish!) "I work for Barclay Disques. Do you know the company? We deal with Petula Clark, Gilbert Becand you have heard of them?" "Petula Clark oh yes of course." The man brought out from his wallet a little clear white card, gold edged. GABRIEL PASSEY Agent de Barclay Disques "That is me," he said, and flourishing flour-ishing the card he sprang from his seat to make an absurd, graceful little bow. Rebecca's eyes were swimming with laughter. But Maureen's had suddenly become bright and incredulous. in-credulous. "I wonder if . . . ?" she asked and stopped. "I was about to ask pou perhaps you might consider making a record for us? Of course, it would involve a lot of work, and I can promise nothing we will have to try out your voice first, and have many recording sessions at the studios, before we can think of putting out the record. And you will have to do a lot of special voice exercises which I will give you. As I say, it would be hard work. What do you think?" "Oh, it just can't be true! It can't! But, oh, yes, of course yes, oui, oui, oui, oui!" Maureen almost squealed. Gabriel Passey smiled at her excitement, ex-citement, then put out his dry brown hand to shake her hot and sweaty one. "It is a deal, then?" he asked. "Yes!" Quickly they arranged what time to meet that afternoon for a "preliminary "pre-liminary recording session at the man's flat. When all was settled, Mr. Passey turned to Rebecca. "Tres bien. And you, little Re-becc-a, you must come along with your friend, and give her confidence. confi-dence. Will you?" Again the pure sweet smile on his lips and in his eyes. |