Free Lime Street Blues by Maureen Lee Page B

little shiver, wondering what people were doing behind their front doors and blank windows.
    It would be nice to live somewhere like Walton Vale, with a cinema around the corner, loads of shops, and trams running to Liverpool every few minutes. It would also be nice, she thought traitorously, to have a dad like Dr Bailey, instead of one who raised a hundred objections every time his children wanted to go out. Perhaps it was because he was old; he’d forgotten how to enjoy himself and didn’t realise she and Max wanted a good time. She kicked at a pile of leaves. There was nothing she could do about it. She loved her father and, if she said anything, it would only upset her mother, whom she loved most of all.
    ‘Are you sure the aliens haven’t taken you over?’Marcia quipped. ‘You’ve been quiet an awfully long time.’
    ‘I was just thinking.’
    ‘Could you stop thinking and take us back? I’m starving.’
    Elaine gasped. ‘I’d like to apologise for my sister’s non-existent manners, Jeannie. It’d be nice to say she’s not always this rude, except she is. She badly needs her head examining.’ She glared at Marcia’s head. ‘I might do it once I’m a qualified psychiatrist.’
    Marcia was unperturbed by this remark and Jeannie explained they were at the other end of Holly Lane and already going back.
    As they approached Disraeli Terrace, two boys emerged from the first house; one tall and dark, the other small and fair.
    ‘I spy other human beings!’ Marcia remarked with pretend amazement.
    ‘Hello, Jeannie,’ the blond boy shouted as they passed. ‘What’s it like at your posh school?’
    ‘All right.’ Jeannie shrugged.
    Marcia turned and looked at the boys with interest. ‘I quite fancy the tall one.’
    ‘Sean McDowd? He’s only thirteen, far too young for you.’
    ‘Only thirteen! He looks more like twenty. Did you notice the way he looked at me? He’s got dead sexy eyes.’
    ‘He was looking at Jeannie, not you,’ Elaine pointed out. ‘I think he quite fancies you, Jeannie.’
    ‘Well, he needn’t bother.’ She wouldn’t look twice at Sean McDowd.
    Tea was cold chicken with tomatoes freshly picked fromthe garden, potato salad, and chunks of home-made bread, thickly spread with butter. For afters, they had damson pie and cream.
    Marcia, as liberal with praise as she was with criticism, declared it quite the nicest meal she’d ever eaten.
    ‘It was delicious, Mrs Flowers,’ Lachlan said courteously. ‘I really enjoyed everything.’
    ‘Me too,’ concurred Elaine.
    Rose glanced at the clock. ‘It’s almost six. Your father will be here at half past and I’m dying to hear Jeannie and Lachlan play.’
    Everyone went into the parlour; even Gerald seemed interested.
    ‘Shall we start off with
Minuet in G
again,’ Jeannie whispered to Lachlan, who condescended to look at her properly for the first time.
    ‘Why not!’
    ‘And then what about a Strauss waltz and some Chopin? The music’s on the stand. We could finish with “Love Me Tender”. I’ve been practising all week.’
    Lachlan grinned. ‘I couldn’t have chosen a better programme myself.’ He bowed at the small audience, tucked the violin under his chin, raised his eyebrows at his accompanist, and they began to play.
    Dr Bailey arrived when they’d just started their final piece. Rose crept out to let him in, and the doctor enthusiastically joined in the applause at the end of the little concert.
    ‘Well done, son, and you too, Jeannie,’ he said. ‘That was most enjoyable.’
    ‘I won’t be playing this for much longer.’ Lachlan waved the violin. ‘I’m getting a guitar for Christmas. I want to play rock ’n’ roll, like Chuck Berry and Bill Haley and the Comets.’
    ‘That’s a shame!’ Rose cried. ‘You’re very good.’
    ‘Well, if it’s what the boy wants . . .’ Dr Bailey didn’t seem the tiniest bit bothered by his son’s intentions.
    ‘Dad,’ Lachlan said eagerly, ‘if Max comes