In Lonnie's Shadow by Chrissie Michaels Page B

when boys as rough as that stable hand or barrow boy, or whatever he was, succeeded in making her heart race so wildly? If only it had been a summer’s day, she could blame the heat stroke.
    From her purse she drew out a delicate glass bottle and breathed in the calming vapours. Once the world regained its colour and texture and she felt composed enough to take a turn, she made her way into Allen’s Music Store. Browsing through the latest sheet music, but perhaps taking a few idle moments longer than she needed, her fingers came to a stop at a song called ‘Narcissus’. She crossed her fingers in the hope it was not an omen.
    Outside she found herself staring at a group of larrikins milling around the corner lamp post. Before they could send their catcalls and whistles her way, she turned stiffly and hurried off in the opposite direction. What if her father saw her talking to the likes of larrikins or barrow boys? What if Thomas mentioned Mr McGuinness when the Cricks came to call as they so often did? Her father would be wild with anger.
    Anything Thomas said or did seemed to have her father’s blessing. There was no doubting he was the preferred suitor. Rose knew her father only wanted the best for her. He wholeheartedly believed Thomas to be a fine, upstanding young man who was going places. Prospects were important, as he let her know often enough. The Paynes and the Cricks had land speculation deals in common and they both shared an interest in the sport of kings. All in all, Thomas Crick was her perfect match, at least in her father’s eyes.
    Rose thought she would like Thomas Wylie Crick much better if he had followed behind her when she left the apple cart. She wondered crossly where he could be. Only last Saturday they had enjoyed doing the Block together. He had romantically stolen her glove as they strolled through Royal Arcade, and she dared to imagine he kept it close by that night as he slept. Afterwards, they visited the book arcade and wandered alone around the fernery. They laughed together in the monkey house, sipped tea in the tearooms and smiled at their own reflections in a wall-sized mirror. How worldly and ardent he had seemed then, while today he had been downright ill- tempered. She looked behind her. Where was he?
    Rose slowed down her pace, waiting to see if she would be seized by a similar swoon, but romancing Thomas Crick in her imagination didn’t make her heart beat any faster. She stopped by the nearest window display and contemplated the dress on show. It reminded her of a spring flower. It was a darling, made of silk in a deep shade of daffodil with white sweetheart rosebuds, flounced at the bustle and nipped tightly at the waist; it looked her very size. Instead of smelling salts she started thinking of the first Tuesday in November, which would see her attend the Melbourne Cup. She should really start thinking about having a dress made for the occasion.
    ‘Miss Payne?’
    ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked tight-lipped, not bothering to turn around. ‘I thought you were working.’
    ‘Finished for the day. You recognised my voice?’
    ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I see your reflection in the window, Mr McGuinness. You don’t happen to know where Mr Crick has gone, do you? I expected him to be escorting me this afternoon.’
    ‘You told him not to. I heard you myself.’
    ‘Stop teasing. Gentlemen never forget their manners.’ She was immediately conscious that her prickly voice had pointed out the obvious for he coloured up like a strawberry patch. ‘I daresay Thomas didn’t mention where he was heading?’ she asked more gently.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why were the two of you goading each other back at the market?’
    Lonnie thought it over for a moment or two before answering and convinced himself he wouldn’t be telling Rose Payne anything she didn’t already know. Since her father was such a good mate of the Cricks, she was bound to have heard something about the