Free sUnwanted Truthst

of that.’ She decided not to mention the capital cities; he might think it odd.
    â€˜I like the countryside too. Perhaps we could go for a ride sometime?’
    She blushed.
    As they left the tearoom, Martin reached again for her hand and they strolled to the southern edge of the park.
    â€˜I’m fascinated by this stone. It’s enormous,’ Martin said as they stood and read the metal plaque at the base of the Goldstone, a twenty-ton sarsen stone that gave its name to the surrounding area.
    â€˜Yes, it’s huge,’ but today Jenny was only interested in the boy at her side. They continued around the edge of the park, stopping at the tennis courts to watch a father teaching his son how to perfect his serve. They crossed back over the drover’s road.
    â€˜I expect you like Cliff Richard, don’t you?’ Martin asked.
    â€˜No, not much; I prefer Paul Anka; The Everley Brothers; and Neil Sedaka.’
    â€˜They’re all American.’
    â€˜It’s not because they’re American. I like their sound.’
    â€˜I prefer instrumentals; The Shadows and Duane Eddy. I’ve got all their records. I’m saving up to buy a guitar. I reckon I’ll have enough by Christmas.’
    â€˜Do you fancy joining a group?’
    â€˜A couple of mates have, but I’ve a way to go yet.’
    They continued in silence. Jenny tried to think of something else to say, but the harder she tried the more the words retreated. She spotted the tracks of the railway through the trees, and hoped that he would want to see her again.
    â€˜It’s my sister’s thirteenth birthday next Saturday afternoon. She’s having a special tea for a couple of friends from school. Would you like to come?’
    She thought it was as if he knew what she was thinking. ‘Won’t your parents mind?’
    â€˜I’ll tell Mum you’re coming; one more won’t make any difference. She’s very easy-going. Dad won’t be there, he’ll be at the café. It’s more relaxed when he’s not at home. It would be good if you could come.’
    â€˜Yes, I’d love to. Have you just got one sister?’
    â€˜Yes, she’s enough. She’s so annoying. What about you?’
    â€˜No, I’m an only child,’ she said, then adding, ‘but I don’t mind, I have some good friends.’
    â€˜What you never have, you never miss.’ Martin smiled at her. ‘Not that I’d miss Anna; the house would be a lot quieter. She’s a pain in the backside. Well, it looks as if we’re back where we started.’ They stood staring at the engine shed.
    â€˜I’d better go,’ said Jenny.
    He turned to face her and taking both her hands in his, dipped his face and briefly touched her lips. ‘I won’t be at the club on Tuesday, my uncle’s coming down. So I’ll meet you at the end of my street next Saturday, about three o’clock?’

    *
    The area to the south of the railway was known locally as “Poet’s Corner”. At the end of the nineteenth century, a councillor with a literary bent decided to name all roads built surrounding the town’s hospital after poets. Jenny leant her cycle against the wall of the house in Byron Street and looked at her watch: five to three. The ride down had not taken as long as she’d thought. She peered into the distance. Someone that looked like Martin was coming out of a house at the far end of the street, as he came nearer she saw that he was holding something in his hand. She should have bought a present for his sister. It was too late now.
    â€˜You came on your bike then?’ Martin said as he approached her. ‘This is for you.’ He passed her a brown paper bag.
    â€˜For me?’
    â€˜Yes, look inside.’
    â€˜It’s Neil Sedaka, his latest,’ she said, her face breaking into a wide smile.
    â€˜Yes, you said you liked