him.â
âI do, thank you. I should have bought a present for Anna.â
âDonât worry about that. Sheâs got loads, and her friends will bring some more. You better put it in your saddle-bag,â he nodded towards the record.
âAre you sure itâs alright me coming? I mean with your mother.â Jenny took hold of the handlebars.
âCourse it is. Come on.â Martin draped his arm around Jennyâs shoulders and they walked along the street.
âHave you always lived here?â Jenny asked.
âWe used to live in the centre of Brighton. But I donât remember it. I think we moved here when I was about five. You can leave your bike here, behind mine.â Martin led Jenny through a side door, to where a bicycle with drop handlebars stood against the wall of the house. Jenny positioned her front wheel so that it lightly touched the rear wheel of Martinâs bicycle. âDonât look so worried,â Martin said as Jenny bit her lower lip. He took her hand and led her through the back door and into the kitchen.
A slim dark-haired woman, wearing an apron with a frill around the edge, looked up and smiled at Jenny. She was turning a jelly upside down on a plate. âSo youâre Jenny?â
âI hope itâs alright me coming today, Mrs Barretti?â
âYes, of course it is. Martin hasnât stopped talking about you all week.â
âMum, for Godâs sake. Come on Jenny.â He took her hand and pulled her through the doorway.
âYes, take Jenny into the front room. I donât know if Annaâs in there, her friends havenât arrived yet. Iâm setting the food on the table in the dining room.â
âWeâll go in there first then,â said Martin, throwing a grin at his mother.
âDonât you dare,â she laughed.
Jenny relaxed, picking up on the easy atmosphere, and followed Martin along the hallway and into a neat sitting room.
âWell, Annaâs not in here, thatâs good.â Martin sank into the sofa. âSit down here,â he patted the seat beside him. âIâll put some 45s on the record player in a minute. That will get us into the party mood.â
âI like you in those trousers. They suit you.â Martin looked down approvingly as Jenny sat beside him.
âTheyâre Capri pants. I always wear them when I cycle.â
There was a thundering of feet on the stairs. The door burst open. âThere you are. Whereâs my money?â A girl with straight dark hair and a fringe faced them, with both hands on her hips.
âWhat are you talking about?â said Martin.
âYou know what Iâm talking about; my birthday money. I had five pound notes, on my bed-side table. Now Iâve only got three. Youâve taken them. No one else would.â
âNo I havenât,â Martin said.
âYouâre a liar and a thief.â
âAnd youâre a rude brat. Weâve got a guest, and all you can do is scream and shout. Arenât you going to say hello?â
âNo Iâm not.â Her dark eyes flashed from under her fringe. âNot âtil you own up and give me my money back.â
âAnna, Anna, what on earthâs going on? Itâs your birthday.â Mrs Barretti stood behind her daughter in the hallway. Her hands were white with icing sugar.
âI donât care. I want my money.â
âMartin, did you take it?â
âNo, of course I didnât. Sheâs just lost it. Itâs probably lying in all that mess under her bed. She never cleans her room.â
âWeâll sort it out later Anna. You donât need it now do you? Just calm down, and go and get ready. Your friends will be here any minute. Iâm sorry about this Jenny. Your first visit, what must you think of us?â
âItâs alright,â said Jenny, thinking that she had never experienced the rough and tumble
Lindzee Armstrong, Lydia Winters