Between Friends by Audrey Howard

bow of the ferryboat, reluctant to break the magical enchantment of the last moments of the day, reluctant to have it ended. Their shoulders touched in that instinctive way which had grown up with them though they were not consciously aware of it and when Martin finally spoke the other two turned dreaming faces towards him.
    ‘How about going the other way?’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘We’ve got a good hour before dark. We could ride down to the Jericho shore and have a paddle.’
    Instantly alert the other two agreed enthusiastically and within half an hour they were giggling and splashing each other, chasing the lengthening shadows across the hard packed sand of the shoreline on their side of the river.
    They grew quiet again as night began to creep across the water and they walked in silence, side by side, their bare feet slapping through the tiny pools that had formed as the tide dropped.
    They came to the boat house, almost hidden amongst the stand of very old trees which leaned outwards to the beach, and across the smooth stretch of lawn which sloped away from the river they could see a fine house and lights beginning to illuminate its windows.
    ‘Electric!’ Martin said with awe and the others were silent for none of them had ever seen an electric light.
    There was a roaring, snarling, rattling sound which grew louder and louder and Meg drew back uncertainly, reaching for Tom’s hand but Martin stepped forward, climbing up the small incline until he stood amongst the trees, staring mesmerised across the lawn at the monster which had drawn up to the door of the house.
    ‘What is it?’ Meg whispered fearfully though of course she knew for had they not seen more than a dozen or so about the streets of Liverpool. It was just that the first time you came across one in the flesh, so to speak, it was a frightful shock.
    ‘It’s only a motor car,’ Tom whispered back.
    ‘
Only a motor car
!’ Martin’s voice was coldly scathing. ‘It’s not only a bloody motor car you fool. It’s a “Rolls-Royce” three and a half litre V8! A six cylinder … Oh Sweet Jesus!’
    ‘Martin …’
    ‘Where are you going, you daft sod …’ Tom’s voice was agonised and Meg put out a hand as though to hold Martin back but it was too late!
    ‘Dear God … He’s going to get caught if he goes any nearer,’ she whispered frantically.
    But Martin Hunter was no longer of their world, nor indeed any world at all for he was in his dream, the one he dwelled in whenever his young mind was not occupied with cleaning knives and peeling spuds and polishing lamps and fetching coal. He moved with wary masculine grace towards the magnificent motor car. It’s driver had climbed out and gone inside the house and the faint click of the cooling engine could be heard in the quiet, darkening twilight.
    The sun had fallen behind the grey smudge of the far shore across the river but the last light of the evening illuminated the machine. It glimmered like a precious jewel on a dark stretch of velvet, the lights from the house glowing on its polished surface.
    It was truly the most beautiful thing Martin Hunter had ever seen! He stood before it, bewitched and when he put out his hand to it he might have been about to caress a beloved woman. His fingers touched the shining bonnet then moved to the high mudguard, trailing lingeringly across the smooth surface.
    ‘God help us,’ whispered Tom, ‘he’s going to get in the bloody thing!’ He and Meg watched with the fascination of total horror as Martin Hunter stepped for the first time into a motor car and though it was almost dark by now they saw the flash of his white teeth as he smiled!
    For the time being at least they must be satisfied with their bicycles, Martin said as though sooner or later a motor car would be delivered to the front door of the house, and truth to tell Tom and Meg
were
satisfied and during that summer and autumn they rode as often as they could together, going