Free In Lonnie's Shadow by Chrissie Michaels Page B

declared. ‘Then you’d have to come work for me full time. ’Bout time we went into partnership.’
    ‘Can’t, mate, may have some new prospects at the
    Glen.’
    ‘So are ya telling me the Glen may steal you first? Talk about loyalty!’
    A surge of customers descended into the main thoroughfare. Rings of young ladies stood twirling their umbrellas. They made a fetching sight, all buttoned up against the wind, their plumped-out bustles making each pinched waist even slimmer. Carlo caught sight of a particular girl heading their way. ‘Here comes Lady Muck.’
    Lonnie shoved Carlo aside, nearly knocking him off his feet. ‘Quick, let me serve her!’ He brushed himself down, put on his brightest smile and started to spit and polish an apple.
    The sixteen-year-old beauty walked towards them. Lonnie could not take his eyes off the few dark curls that escaped from beneath her blue bonnet. A padded jacket of the same colour squared off her slight shoulders. Buttons made of mother-of-pearl pinned the collar tightly around her neck and ran like cameo rainbows down to her tiny, drawn-in waist. On this bracing winter’s morning, she looked like the dazzle of a Melbourne summer sky, warming Lonnie through to his very bones.
    It was hard to believe that a scumbag like Henry Payne could have fathered her. It still made Lonnie furious to think of poor Auntie Tilly having to leave Little Lon because of Henry Payne. That man caused nothing but grief. As Lonnie imagined her as a baby swapped at birth, Rose greeted him with a fetching smile. Lingering in the crisp air around her was a delicate fragrance of dried rose petals and lavender.
    ‘Do you think I should try a red or a green apple today?’ she asked. Her heart-shaped lips shot arrows of desire at him with each softly formed syllable.
    Ping, ping, the arrows hit. ‘The red ones are crisp, freshly pinged, I mean picked,’ he stammered. ‘The sweetest, too.’ Like you, he wanted to say, but he kept the thought private. He took a bite. ‘See.’ He offered her another of the same.
    She giggled behind her hand then accepted, the tip of her glove making contact with his skin. She bit lusciously into the fruit, all the while staring squarely at him, her eyes sparkling a challenge. Ping, ping, more arrows hit. There and then, as she held the fruit to her mouth with those half-open lips, there was no other girl in the world for him. He was lost to her forever. If it had been summertime and he had offered her ice-cream, it would glisten transparent in the sunshine, and Rose’s rosebud lips would open, and her tongue would lick and melt the cool ice. Ping.
    ‘Delicious.’ She interrupted his daydreams, undid a silver clip on her beaded purse and pulled out a coin.
    Lonnie reached over and lightly brushed a hand that he was certain felt as charged as his own. ‘No cost.’
    She pulled her hand away. ‘You mustn’t do that.’
    ‘What?’ Ping. ‘Do what? Why not?’
    She glanced over at Carlo, who was keeping track of the exchange. ‘You’re supposed to be selling them. Won’t you get in trouble from your boss?’
    ‘He’s not my boss. We’re partners.’
    Carlo’s eyeballs nearly popped out and fell on the ground. He coughed, trying to stifle a laugh, and quickly diverted his attention towards Bella, who was happily shoving her nose into an oat bag.
    ‘Ooh, I see. Well, you’ll never be rich if you give away your fruit,’ Rose said. ‘Or if you eat it.’
    ‘Let’s say we want your valued custom. Once you’ve tasted our apples, you’ll be sure to come back. Carlo calls it marketing. He’s a real go-ahead.’
    ‘How very sure you are.’
    Before Lonnie could think of another clever reply, a snappily suited young gent, the last person in the world Lonnie wanted to see, all butterfly collar and starched cuffs, strolled towards the cart and tipped his hat to Rose. The toffs who did the Block were as elegantly dressed as the ladies. They wouldn’t be seen