Interested to know if this sounds old fashioned. I think I was thinking about my own childhood while I wrote it. (1970s) Also if it deals in stereotypes.

Chapter two.

CHILDREN DOGS AND MOZART.

“Mornin’ mister,” she called.

I only knew it was a girl because she was wearing a skirt.  In fact she was wearing her school uniform.  I found out later that she only ever wore a skirt for school.  All the rest of the time she either wore jeans or shorts.

Off she trotted up the street with her bag bouncing along with her.  The next thing I knew there was this great big brown and black dog running past me.  In fact it nearly bowled me off my feet.  It bounded up to her and for a moment I thought it was going to savage her.  I was all ready to dash up and pull it off her.  I used to be a dog handler when I did my national service you know.  Anyhow, I needn’t have worried, as all the great soft brute did was frolic around her, jump up and try to lick her face!

“Get off me Rover!” she laughed.  “I’m late already.”

Next minute out came a little boy.  He was about nine or ten I’d say.  He went running in the same direction as the girl.

“Mornin’ mister!”  he shouted as he ran by.  Rover, seeing someone else running down the street, turned around to greet him.  He bounded directly at the running child.  Well, of course, there was an almighty collision.  The boy was knocked over backwards and the dog was left standing over him panting and licking the boy all over his face with a big wet tongue.  Eventually the boy managed to wrestle Rover off  and stood up wiping his face on his sleeve.  Rover then lost interest and wandered off up the street sniffing at the lampposts as he went.

“You alright?”  I asked.

“Yes thanks mister.  Stupid dog!  I’ve spilt all my books for school now.”

“Is it your dog then?”  I enquired.

“Yea mister.  He’s called Rover,”  he said.

“Yes, I heard.  And you can call me Ted.”

“Great, thanks mist… I mean Ted.  I’m Billy.  I live next door at number eight.  I saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said.  “I’ve come from the other side of town.”

I helped him get his books together and then he was on his way.

“Thanks.  See you Ted,”  he called back after me.

I’d just started thinking what a nice boy Billy was when a door opened across the road and out came a man in a suit carrying a brief case.  He walked straight across the road and spoke to me.

“You’d better watch him, the little devil.  He’d sooner put your windows through than speak to you.”

“Ah, well he seemed nice enough,” I said.

“Don’t be fooled.  You can bet, anything goes wrong in this street, it’ll be him.  Him or his sister.  You just watch yourself.”

“Er, I will, thank you,” I said.  Although I must admit I didn’t like his tone.  Billy had seemed like a nice boy and I wasn’t going to change my opinion just because of a gossiping busy body.

“The name’s Bartholomew,” he said.

“Mr. Brown,” I replied rather frostily.  I was really beginning to dislike his manner.  Anyway, at that he turned heel and marched off down the road looking rather like a soldier on a parade ground.

After all the excitement, I’d quite forgotten what I’d actually come out for.  So I went back into the house and decided and make a cup of tea and listen to Composer of the Week on the radio.  I’ve always liked classical music.  If I remember rightly, the composer for that particular week was Mozart.