Free A Wanton Tale by Paula Marie Kenny

lead light front door of the Victorian villa. Sophie Shore gazed into the hall looking glass, flecks of light were dancing on her heart shaped face from the sunlight refracting from the bevelled glass of the art deco mirror. Her bright green eyes were fixed on her fresh freckly complexion, for a moment she thought she could see diamond earrings, sparkling from her earlobes. She was lost in a world of her own.
    Her concentration was soon broken by the sound of her mother’s voice. ‘You’ve been standing in that mirror long enough Sophie, call Bertie down and take him over to the fair for an hour.’ Said her mother impatiently. ‘I’ll give you two shillings, buy him something to eat.’
    With an exasperated sigh, Sophie vigorously brushed her hair forward, then tossed back her head with a flourish.
    Still admiring herself she called up the stairs to her brother, ‘Bertie, bring yourself down here now, we are going to the fair.’
    â€˜Bring yourself down here? What on earth does that mean?’ She heard her father ask her mother. ‘Where does she learn these things?’
    At one time her father, Arthur, had been a Major in The 1 st Battalion The Cheshire Regiment. Although now an insurance broker in the City of Liverpool, in his mind, he still lived in military times and was very set in his ways. Her mother, May, was a thoroughly modern mother who had entered the workforce. She worked in the local school as a secretary and had embraced the practical styles of the 1920’s. Arthur wasn’t keen on the idea of his wife working, but she clearly enjoyed the work and, after all, his earnings were relatively modest in these precarious times.
    â€˜Arthur, it’s 1928, the world has taken a few turns and the war is long over.’ May scrutinised her husband’s handle-bar moustache, wishing he would shave it off. ‘The children are growing up in a different world. Both you and I have to move with the times. She will pick up modern language, no matter how much you may dislike it.’
    â€˜Hate ten year old boys.’ Thought Sophie. She was fourteen, going on thirty. In her mind she was grown up and going out with her younger brother was not something she enjoyed. ‘Wish I had a sister instead.’
    She stood at the foot of the oak staircase, holding onto the carved newel post. She shouted again for her brother. She heard him grunt a reply and slam his book shut. Soon the podgy young boy came lumbering downstairs.
    Sophie adjusted her straw hat in the mirror, turning, she slapped Bertie’s cap on his head as he passed her. Taking the money from her mother, they both kissed her and waved a cheery ‘Bye.’ Sophie practically dragged her young sibling out of the front door.
    She took a deep breath of salty air. Although the warm summer breeze gave her hair a life of its own, she felt content. In reality, Sophie could hardly contain her excitement at going to the fair. She loved living in New Brighton and felt privileged that her home was on Oakland Vale. She loved to look across Magazines Promenade and watch the ships on the River Mersey. The view ‘over the water’ to Liverpool was breathtaking. She felt even more lucky to have the fun fair at Tower Grounds on her doorstep.
    Their mother stood in the turret window of the drawing room with her arms folded as she watched her children scuttle down the steep steps. Her gaze followed them until they went through the wrought iron gate and soon disappeared from view.
    She tapped the pearls on her long stringed necklace with the tips of her brightly painted nails. She turned to face her husband with a big sigh.
    â€˜It’s your own fault.’ Said Arthur, as he drew gently on his pipe, puffing sweet scented tobacco which permeated the room.
    â€˜What is? What is all my fault?’ Asked May.
    â€˜Well something is bothering you and normally that means it’s Sophie.’ Answered her