The red-coated marines invaded Timmy’s eyes as he scanned down the menu. He could see them in the distance marching with their long black boots down this rutted road that Macquarie designed to be the finest avenue in the fledgling colony. Having brunch at the outside tables brought to life Mrs Jamieson’s unit of study over this last week. He struggled to concentrate as he heard the lone-drummer march the corps onto the dusty, uneven wasteland that he knew as Hyde Park.
‘Timmy, do you want an iced chocolate with your pancakes?’
He could hear the exasperation in her voice, which brought him back to the present with a thud.
‘Ah, no, could I have a juice instead, please?’
He kicked his sneakers back against the wrought iron of the chair, annoyed that his feet still did not reach the footpath. He watched the cars slow down for the lights.