When Marnie Was There (11 page)

Mrs Pegg bent over Anna. “Run you on in, love, and get yourself a cup of milk. After twelve it is. Telly’s been over this long while. That’s late for a little maid to be out, that is.”

Anna ran in and fetched herself a mug of milk from the pantry. She could still hear their voices murmuring in the open doorway in tones of low, shocked surprise: “Fast asleep she was. As true as I’m standing here. Setting right down by the water she was – bare feet and all. Do you think she’s all right? That’s a strange way for a child to be—”

But Anna did not mind. They could talk about her as much as they liked for all she cared. She had other friends now.

Still in a dream she ran up the dark, narrow staircase and lifted the latch of her own room. In the dark she went to put her shoes together under the chair, and found that she had only one after all. She must have dropped the other on the way home. Never mind… She took off her jersey and shorts and tumbled into bed, thinking she would go and look for it tomorrow – early in the morning before the others were up. The tide would be out again by then…

She fell asleep with the soughing of the sea still in her ears. And when, a little later, the moon came up over the
edge of the low sill, it sent a beam of light straight across the floor to where one sandshoe lay, with a sprig of sea lavender still stuck in its eyelet hole.

A
NNA DID FIND
her other shoe, though not till late next day. She woke late after all, spent the day wandering about the beach, and came back in the evening to find her shoe perched on top of the post where Marnie’s boat had been tied up. There was no note with it, nothing to show who had found it. Possibly Marnie herself had put it there. There was no knowing.

Nothing had been said at the cottage about Anna staying out so late, and having to be brought home by the Beales.
All that day, and the next, she went about quietly, steeling herself against reproaches and scoldings that never came. And gradually she thought she understood why. Mrs Pegg knew now that Anna was not worth bothering about. And this was her way of dealing with it – by saying nothing at all. She was tired of Anna. She had tried to be kind to her and it had not worked. Now she was “letting her get on with it”.

This was not so, but Anna was not to know. At home things had a way of lingering on. They were not necessarily referred to, but you could feel them in the air. Anna would be reminded of them by Mrs Preston’s anxious, watchful glances, by her over-careful avoidance of the actual subject. So now, when Mrs Pegg – busily turning out the front room, preparatory to making the new covers – merely said, “Run along now, lass. I’m that busy,” Anna was doubly suspicious. There were no worried glances, no conscientious attempts to talk lightly about other things. Mrs Pegg appeared entirely unconcerned. This, thought Anna, could only mean that she had abandoned her, because she was too bad to be worth bothering about.

So, unobtrusively, she made herself even scarcer, finding less to say, and staying out of doors even longer. More than ever now was she “no trouble at all”.

It was all the better, she told herself as she wandered along the staithe. If the Peggs had given up bothering about her, it made it all the easier for her to give up bothering about them.

She had not seen Marnie since the party three nights ago, and The Marsh House had been silent. She glanced towards it now and saw that it seemed dark and asleep. The suspicion entered her mind suddenly that perhaps the family had gone away without her knowing. Dismayed, she turned towards an old hulk that lay permanently on its side above the water line. Here she could lie for hours, unseen by anyone. She climbed up and dropped down inside – and there was Marnie!

She was lying on her back in the bottom, wearing a blue linen smock and white socks, and sandals, and with her hands under her head was staring straight up into Anna’s astonished face. “Hello,” she said, laughing quietly.

“Marnie! I thought you’d gone away.”

“Silly, I live here.”

“But I never see you.”

“Goose, you’re seeing me now.” Anna laughed, but Marnie put a hand lightly over her mouth. “Hush! They’ll hear and come and find us.”

They talked in low voices lying huddled in the bottom of the boat.

“I’ve been so lonely,” said Anna, surprised to hear herself saying it – it was so rare for her to confide in anyone.

“Poor you. But so have I.”

“You! What, with a whole houseful of jolly people?”

Marnie turned to look at her with surprised blue eyes.

“Oh, you mean the people at the party? They’ve gone,
ages
ago – two days at least. I’m all on my own now.”

“Not all alone in that big house?”

“Oh, well – apart from the others, I mean, but I don’t count them. Nan’s not much use. She’s not even much good at looking after me. She spends nearly all her time in the kitchen, drinking tea and telling fortunes in the tea leaves – not that
I
mind.”

“Who’s Nan? I thought you hadn’t got any sisters.”

Marnie laughed delightedly. “Sisters? Of course not. Nan’s my nurse.”

“Nurse! Are you ill, then? Is that why you’re here? What’s the matter with you?” In her concern, Anna asked the questions quickly, one after the other. She was amazed when Marnie turned on her, suddenly furious.

“What do you mean, what’s the matter with me, you saucy girl?”

Anna drew back, startled. “Don’t get huffy. It’s not your fault if you’re ill. I’ve been ill too – only you said you had a nurse to look after you.”

Marnie laughed again. “Oh, you funny goose! I didn’t mean a sick nurse – why should you think I meant that? – I meant my own nurse, to look after my clothes, brush my hair, take me for walks – that sort of thing. Not that she ever does take me for walks, hardly ever anyway, but
I
don’t mind.”

Anna was relieved. Marnie was odd, the way she was angry one minute and laughing the next, but at least she was still friendly. And she understood now. This strange girl must be very rich; the sort of girl you read about in books but never met in real life. She felt a pang of envy, remembering how she had first seen her from the boat, having her hair brushed in the upper window. Fancy having a nurse to look after your clothes!

Marnie, as if she had read her thoughts, looked curiously at Anna’s shorts.

“Why do you always wear those?”

“Why not?” said Anna. “They’re more comfortable.” She glanced in turn at Marnie’s smock, which secretly she thought looked more like a best dress. “Why don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be allowed.” Marnie looked regretful for a moment, then tossed her head. “Anyway, it doesn’t look
right.” She sprang up suddenly. “Bother! That was the bell, I must go.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Marnie laughed as if she didn’t believe her. “You didn’t
want
to hear,” she said. “Anyone can hear our dinner bell halfway down the creek.” She looked down at Anna, still lying on her elbow in the bottom of the hulk. “I wish I didn’t have to go. Look out for me again!” she whispered quickly. Then she scrambled over the side and was gone.

Anna did look out for her. Every day she looked in the old hulk, and along the staithe, and up at the windows of The Marsh House. She was nowhere to be seen. Once she thought she saw a splash of blue in the grass along the dyke, and ran, feeling sure it was Marnie’s blue smock, but when she drew near she found it was only a piece of coloured wrapping paper caught up in a small bush, and blowing in the wind. Another time, thinking it was her in the distance on the marsh, she hurried, slithering, and jumping over the pools, only to find a small boy in a blue plastic mackintosh, damming a stream with lumps of mud. His mother sat nearby reading a magazine, and Anna turned and ran before she should look up and speak to her.

Then one day she went down to the beach in Wuntermenny’s boat, and while he was away along the shore collecting driftwood, she went down to the water’s edge and, stooping, began searching for sea urchins along the tide line. And suddenly there was Marnie beside her.

She jumped and let out a squeak of surprise. “Where – where ever did you spring from?”

“Up there.” Marnie laughed, hopping about beside her on the hard wet sand with bare feet. “I’ve been up in the sandhills. I was there when you first came, but I didn’t want to meet
him,”
she jerked her head sideways towards the distant Wuntermenny. “Isn’t it fun! I left my socks and shoes up there in a hollow. It’s
glorious
having bare feet, isn’t it?” She stopped and peered into Anna’s face. “You’ve been crying.”

“I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have, but it doesn’t matter. What have you been doing?”

“Only looking for sea urchins, but they’re all broken.” Anna crumpled the one she had been holding and flung it into the sea. “That was the best, but that was broken too.”

“You are a funny girl,” said Marnie, “I don’t believe you’ve been crying about the sea urchins being broken. It’s something else. Tell me what.”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t know, really. Truly.”

“Is it what you said the other night, about them wanting to get rid of you at home? You said you knew why, but it was a sort of secret.”

Anna hesitated. Was it? She hardly knew. Anyway this was the wrong minute for talking. Already she could see that Wuntermenny was preparing to come back. “Look,” she said, pointing along the shore, “he’s tying up the wood
into a bundle. In a minute he’ll start dragging it back on the rope. We can’t talk now.”

“Bother, oh bother!” Marnie looked annoyed. “I thought we had the beach to ourselves.” She seized Anna’s hand and began running up towards the sandhills, pulling her along with her. “Meet me somewhere tomorrow,” she said quickly. “Can you get out early in the morning?”

“Oh, yes! I was going to go mushrooming.”

“Good. Where will you be?”

“Along the marsh, towards the windmill.” Marnie’s face clouded for an instant. “Sam said that was the best place. I thought I’d go down the other dyke.”

“Oh, all right. Stay on the dyke, then, till I come. Then I’ll be sure to see you. I’ll come over the fields. Run now, before he comes back!”

Marnie danced up the slope, waved her hand and disappeared into the sandhills. And Anna ran down to the water’s edge again, laughing secretly to herself as Wuntermenny came trudging up with the rope over his shoulder and his eyes bent on the ground. He had never even seen Marnie.

A
NNA WOKE EARLY
next day, happier than she had been for a long while, and crept out of the house before even Mrs Pegg was stirring. Today she was going mushrooming with Marnie!

She ran along the coast road, her hair streaming in the wind, past the crossroads and the farm where the cows were already being milked. It was a splendid, breathtaking morning, with brilliant sunshine and a strong warm wind blowing from the south west, fresh and sweet, with no sting in it – only a smell of sea and grass and marsh.