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Authors: Maureen Lee
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anxiously.
‘Hmm! What time will you be home on Wednesday?’
‘I dunno. About half past six, I suppose.’
Tom Flowers regarded his own daughter sternly. ‘I hope you didn’t learn
that
off this Elaine Bailey.’
‘What, Dad?’ Jeannie asked, mystified.
‘ “Dunno”. It should be two separate words, if I remember rightly.’
‘She probably got it from Max.’ Max was so often in trouble, it didn’t matter if he was blamed for something he might not have done.
‘All right, you can go. But enjoy it while you can, girl, because you’ll not be having tea with anyone once winter comes. I’m not having you walking home from the station by yourself in the dark.’
‘Thank you, Dad!’ Jeannie noticed her mother’s look of relief.
The Baileys’ big, four-storey house was behind a cinema in Walton Vale. It had a brass plate on the front door andthe two front rooms had been turned into a surgery and a waiting room that was half full of patients when Elaine and Jeannie arrived. Mrs Bailey acted as her husband’s secretary and receptionist, as well as looking after their six children. She was a jolly, surprisingly placid woman, considering the hectic life she led.
The three younger boys – Elaine referred to them as ‘the terrible trio’ – had already eaten by the time the girls arrived and could be heard creating bedlam in the handkerchief-sized back yard. Jeannie was taken into a large kitchen where the worn wooden cupboards and old-fashioned brown sink contrasted oddly with a tall fridge, a washing machine, and a spin dryer. A big pan of stew simmered on the stove and Jeannie was given a plate and told to help herself.
Elaine explained her mum and dad wouldn’t eat till later. ‘Come on, the dining room’s in here. Our Lachlan will be home in about half an hour. He has a violin lesson after school.’ Lachlan’s name was pronounced ‘Loklan’, though the spelling made it look quite different, Elaine said. He was fourteen and hadn’t passed the eleven-plus due to the fact that, as far as anyone knew, he had never read a book in his life. All he thought about was music.
Marcia, the oldest member of the family, was seated at the table when the two girls went into the dining room. Jeannie had already met Marcia, fifteen, and bearing no resemblance to Elaine, being fair-haired, tall, and slim. She seemed to hold strong opinions about every subject under the sun, which she expressed in a loud, grating voice, oblivious to whether someone’s feelings might be hurt. She and Lachlan were going to the pictures later that night to see Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotton in
Niagara
.
‘Have you seen it, Jeannie?’ she enquired.
Jeannie was forced to confess she’d been to the pictures only once in her life, to see
The Wizard of Oz
one Christmas.
Marcia looked astounded. ‘Only
once
? But you’ve seen films on telly, haven’t you?’ she insisted. ‘Alfred Hitchcock’s
The Man Who Knew Too Much
was on the other night. They say it’s not as good as the remake with Doris Day and James Stewart, but we haven’t seen that yet.’
‘We haven’t got a television.’
‘It sounds like it’s still the nineteenth century in your village,’ Marcia sniffed disdainfully.
‘Oh, no! Loads of people have televisions, it’s just that my father doesn’t believe in them.’
‘What about your mother?’
‘She doesn’t either.’ Jeannie wasn’t convinced if this were true. Mum had lately been finding an excuse to call on the Taylors, who lived next door but one, for half an hour or so during the evening. It was Max’s theory she was watching their telly.
‘She only goes the nights
Hancock’s Half Hour
is on, and
I Love Lucy
,’ he pointed out.
Elaine was annoyed with Marcia’s attitude towards her friend. ‘Jeannie can play the piano really well,’ she boasted. ‘That’s a proper achievement, not like watching telly and going to the pictures night after night. One of these days, you’ll
‘Hmm! What time will you be home on Wednesday?’
‘I dunno. About half past six, I suppose.’
Tom Flowers regarded his own daughter sternly. ‘I hope you didn’t learn
that
off this Elaine Bailey.’
‘What, Dad?’ Jeannie asked, mystified.
‘ “Dunno”. It should be two separate words, if I remember rightly.’
‘She probably got it from Max.’ Max was so often in trouble, it didn’t matter if he was blamed for something he might not have done.
‘All right, you can go. But enjoy it while you can, girl, because you’ll not be having tea with anyone once winter comes. I’m not having you walking home from the station by yourself in the dark.’
‘Thank you, Dad!’ Jeannie noticed her mother’s look of relief.
The Baileys’ big, four-storey house was behind a cinema in Walton Vale. It had a brass plate on the front door andthe two front rooms had been turned into a surgery and a waiting room that was half full of patients when Elaine and Jeannie arrived. Mrs Bailey acted as her husband’s secretary and receptionist, as well as looking after their six children. She was a jolly, surprisingly placid woman, considering the hectic life she led.
The three younger boys – Elaine referred to them as ‘the terrible trio’ – had already eaten by the time the girls arrived and could be heard creating bedlam in the handkerchief-sized back yard. Jeannie was taken into a large kitchen where the worn wooden cupboards and old-fashioned brown sink contrasted oddly with a tall fridge, a washing machine, and a spin dryer. A big pan of stew simmered on the stove and Jeannie was given a plate and told to help herself.
Elaine explained her mum and dad wouldn’t eat till later. ‘Come on, the dining room’s in here. Our Lachlan will be home in about half an hour. He has a violin lesson after school.’ Lachlan’s name was pronounced ‘Loklan’, though the spelling made it look quite different, Elaine said. He was fourteen and hadn’t passed the eleven-plus due to the fact that, as far as anyone knew, he had never read a book in his life. All he thought about was music.
Marcia, the oldest member of the family, was seated at the table when the two girls went into the dining room. Jeannie had already met Marcia, fifteen, and bearing no resemblance to Elaine, being fair-haired, tall, and slim. She seemed to hold strong opinions about every subject under the sun, which she expressed in a loud, grating voice, oblivious to whether someone’s feelings might be hurt. She and Lachlan were going to the pictures later that night to see Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotton in
Niagara
.
‘Have you seen it, Jeannie?’ she enquired.
Jeannie was forced to confess she’d been to the pictures only once in her life, to see
The Wizard of Oz
one Christmas.
Marcia looked astounded. ‘Only
once
? But you’ve seen films on telly, haven’t you?’ she insisted. ‘Alfred Hitchcock’s
The Man Who Knew Too Much
was on the other night. They say it’s not as good as the remake with Doris Day and James Stewart, but we haven’t seen that yet.’
‘We haven’t got a television.’
‘It sounds like it’s still the nineteenth century in your village,’ Marcia sniffed disdainfully.
‘Oh, no! Loads of people have televisions, it’s just that my father doesn’t believe in them.’
‘What about your mother?’
‘She doesn’t either.’ Jeannie wasn’t convinced if this were true. Mum had lately been finding an excuse to call on the Taylors, who lived next door but one, for half an hour or so during the evening. It was Max’s theory she was watching their telly.
‘She only goes the nights
Hancock’s Half Hour
is on, and
I Love Lucy
,’ he pointed out.
Elaine was annoyed with Marcia’s attitude towards her friend. ‘Jeannie can play the piano really well,’ she boasted. ‘That’s a proper achievement, not like watching telly and going to the pictures night after night. One of these days, you’ll
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