Anna (Go To Him)

Chapter 3

A few days later, I was dancing around the kitchen to a recent Elvis Presley record, "Baby, Let's Play House," which I'd heard The Quarry Men cover and had immediately located at my local record shop. I was busy making a sandwich when I heard my name being called from outside. I stepped out the back door off the kitchen to see John in his usual place, leaning on the garden wall. "Hello, John." I nodded. "Alright?"

He fixed me with a look. "Ye didn't stay for the dance the other night."

I crossed my arms. "No. I told you I had obligations to my sister."

He raised an eyebrow. "Such that ye couldn't spare even one dance for me best mates?"

I flushed. "I...tell them I'll be there for the next one."

He grinned. "I'm only teasing ye, Annie. Ye don't owe them anything." He nodded along to the music. "Good choice today. One of me favourites."

I smiled with the knowledge of how deeply he'd influenced that purchase. "I'm about to have lunch – d'you want a sandwich, too?"

John shrugged. "If it's not a bother."

I shook my head. "Not at all. Just a minute!" I dashed back inside and threw together another sandwich. As I was arranging it on a plate and pouring a lemonade, my mother walked into the kitchen. Her soft brown eyes flicked toward the back door.

"Having a picnic, Anna?"

I ducked my head slightly, focused on the lemonade. "Just listening to a little music, Mum."

Her lips pressed together, as if trying to suppress a smile, "It's that neighbour lad, eh? What's his name...John?"

"Mum!" I gathered the plate and glass together to take outside. "Yes, and it's nothing...just let us be? Please?"

She waved a hand, "Yes, yes, of course. He seems quite lovely. His aunt was here to welcome us, first thing." I remembered this. John's Aunt Mimi had been over to the house within days of us moving in, a plate of biscuits in hand. John hadn't been with her at the time, hence my surprise at his sudden appearance at our garden wall.

I gave my mother a meaningful look as I passed her, pushing through the back door to the garden. John had already vaulted the wall and was dragging our lawn chairs towards the small, spindly table in the centre of the yard. I laid the plate with the sandwich and the glass of lemonade down on the table. "Thank ye kindly, miss." John said, rubbing his hands together as he settled into one of the chairs. I returned to the kitchen for my own lunch, changing the record over as I went, to play another of my new acquisitions, Little Richard's "Lucille."

As I joined John in the garden, he nodded his thanks. "You're a proper hostess, Annie. Dinner and a show, eh?"

I settled into the opposite lawn chair and took a bite of my own sandwich, enjoying the tune floating on the air. "I heard that lad in the church hall playing Little Richard, what was his name? Pete?"

"Paul." John supplied. "He's Ivan's mate at the Inny, I suppose. He's pretty good with the guitar, and piano as well. He can sing, too. We're thinking of offering 'im a spot in the band."

"You should!" I effused. "He was brilliant, from what I heard." John looked contemplative, nodding. He chewed his sandwich and tapped his foot to the music. After a beat, I leaned forward, "I never asked, how did your O-levels last month go?"

John scowled at me. "Bloody waste o' time, as expected." I dropped my eyes. He sighed. "All is not lost, though, Annie. I've got an art teacher from ol' Quarry Bank that's written me a recommendation letter for the Liverpool College of Art. They figure I can still eke out a living as an advertising artist."