Hi there,

I have a sample of my new MS to share with you. It's chapter one, so no explanations are necessary.

As always, leave a comment if you are moved to do so, thanks.

1

 

UNCLE Jack pressed a two-shilling piece into Lili’s hot little hand. “You take your sisters to the shop and get a bottle of lemonade to share.”

“Thank you, Uncle Jack,” said Lili who was always polite to uncles and aunties. Taking out her hanky she wrapped the precious coin and put it in her pocket. Puffed up at her own importance Lili took hold of our hands and we started off down the road, “Uncle Jack must be very rich, Lili. That’s a lot of money and he’s so kind too, not like Mum’s uncle Fred, who always tickles me, and I don’t like it. He never buys us anything.”

“I know Pet, don’t worry about that now, let’s get to the shop before it closes.” We continued down the quiet street; unusually, it was even too hot for the boys to be out playing cricket, with the light car traffic, they got a few overs bowled between the arrival of each car. As I said before, Lili took responsibility for us and if we did anything wrong, she would take the blame. I prattled on, “I’m gonna have a big glass of lemonade when we get home, aren’t I Lili?”

Lili found the line of least resistance easier; she agreed, and Pet chimed in with a “me too,” and that was settled. As we reached the corner shop on the main road, I didn’t want to go any further, this was where Lucky died. I said so and Lili, who didn’t like to dwell on the past, hurried us along. “We don’t have time for this, Evie, Miss Swift closes at four o’clock.” Inside the shop it was cooler, and Miss Swift stood guard over her empire. “Wha’ cannae ge’ y’ lassies?” Miss Swift’s brogue was still as thick as the day she stepped off the boat from Edinburgh.

“A bottle of lemonade please.”

“Are ye having a dae then?”

“No, just some visitors from Queensland, Uncle Jack and Aunty Mae.” Lili liked a chat. Pet pulled at her whispering, “We aren’t supposed to talk to shop people, Mum doesn’t.” Lili sent a withering look down on seven-year-old Pet. “Don’t you snitch, Pet or I’ll tell Mum it was you who…”

“Alright Lili, but don’t get fam- fam- you know what!”

“What? tell her our business, you mean?” Lili hissed back.

“Yes. Family business,” Pet repeated what she heard Mum say many times. They were interrupted by the arrival of the lemonade. “Ookay Lassies. One and six please.” Lili unwrapped the coin and placed it on the counter, it disappeared into the drawer beneath, to be replaced by a smaller coin which she proceeded to rewrap. Collecting the lemonade and with a “Thank you,” we trooped out again for the walk home.

“Can I carry it Lili, I won’t drop it, I promise.”

“It’s too heavy, Evie. Just wait until we get home.” Lili hefted the bottle from the crook of one arm to the other. “We should’ve brought a string bag. See, it’s heavy. You two hold hands and I’ll carry the lemonade.” I was five years old and treats were rare, I just wanted to touch it; I didn’t mean to cause what happened next. My small fingers curled around the neck, “What’re you doing Evie? Let it go! You’re making it heavier!”

“I just want to touch it, it’s so beautiful. Look at the bubbles,” I tugged harder, taking Lili by surprise and naturally, Lili tugged back, but I refused to let go.

“Okay, you can hold it until we get to Horan’s house.” In my pride, puffed up at the important job of carrying the lemonade, I held the bottle aloft, admiring how the green of the glass showed the patterns of the bubbles trapped inside, I missed the well-known dip in the footpath and the bottle went flying, smashing into the gutter, as I met with the concrete. Of course, I wailed at my scraped knee, and we stood for a long moment watching the delicious treat running into the drain. Lili wiped the blood off and tied my hanky around the injury. She straightened her back, declaring: “We got a drink to drink at the shop- that’s what we’ll say. Okay Pet? Evie? Say it- we got a drink to drink at the shop; we got a drink at the shop.”

By the time we reached home, I’m sure that my sisters convinced themselves they’d had their treat; but I wasn’t so sure. I don’t think that Uncle Jack quite believed the story.”

Evie, eulogy for Lili, September 2009

Cheers until next time

Gen.