When Marnie Was There (22 page)

It was a small anchor, rusted and blackened with age.

“Well, did you find anything?” asked Mr Lindsay, when they met again later in the day. The Lindsays were sitting on the terrace at tea-time, and as usual Anna was with them.

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes!” The others looked up curiously.

“And what did you think of it? Wasn’t it interesting?”

“
Yes
!”

“Do they know yet? Have you told them?”

“Not yet.” Anna was smiling.

“Hey, what’s this?” cried Andrew. “What’s the mystery?”

“Yes, tell us, Dad,” said Matthew. “Tell us!” pleaded Jane and Priscilla.

“Shall we?” Mr Lindsay asked Anna. “Go ahead, then. Or better still, let’s take them and show them.”

They went along to the place where the boat was
hidden. Mr Lindsay separated the branches of the hedge and the children took it in turns to peer through.

“To think I missed it!” said Matthew, who was usually the first to find things. Andrew remarked knowledgeably that “she must have been quite a decent little craft at one time,” and Jane was enchanted. Scilla gazed through the leaves with awestruck eyes. “Marnie’s boat!” she murmured.

“Is there anything in it, do you think?” asked Matthew.

“Try and see,” said his father. Matthew felt around and shook his head. Then Andrew tried. Then Mr Lindsay. There was nothing.

“Well, she must be pretty old if she really was Marnie’s boat,” said Andrew. “I don’t know what we could have expected to find. I wonder how long she’s been in that hedge.”

Only Anna said nothing. No-one would know the anchor had been there. And no-one else could possibly want it. She hardly knew why she had wanted it so much herself, but from the moment when she had pulled it from the hedge and stood staring at it, she had known it was the one thing above all else that she wanted to keep for her own.

It was now hidden in a secret place. Anna had carried it there, rather curiously disguised, less than an hour after she had found it. Mrs Pegg would have been surprised if she had known the use to which her dirty-linen bag had been put.

I
T WAS A
week later when the postman handed Anna a letter from Mrs Preston.

The sight of the familiar handwriting gave her a guilty pang. So much seemed to have happened during the past week or two that she had forgotten to send even a postcard home.

First there had been the finding of Marnie’s boat. Then there had been the excitement over the new sailing dinghy which Mr Lindsay had now promised to buy. There had
been a trip to Wells-next-the-Sea with the family, where they had all been fitted out with lifejackets, and had later eaten fish and chips, sitting on the edge of the quay with their legs dangling over the water.

It had seemed strange going into shops again. Anna had wandered round a big store with Jane and Scilla, quite amazed at the variety of things to be bought – and without which she had been perfectly happy all those weeks at Little Overton. Coming out of the shop, laughing with the others, she had run into none other than Sandra Stubbs, who had turned and stared at her with her mouth open. Anna, about to avoid her eye, had suddenly changed her mind and said, “Hello, Sandra!” just as if they were old friends, and Sandra, gaping, had replied with an astonished grunt.

Standing now by the Peggs’ yard door, Anna looked down at the letter in her hand and felt her heart sink. She frowned, screwing up her eyes against the bright sunlight, and read:

Miss Hannay has called – rather distressed at not seeing you. She hadn’t known you were away. She tells me I have done wrong, dear, in not telling you something before.
(About money, Anna thought. I know it already.)
In any case I should like very much to see you again – there are things I want to tell you, dear – and it is easier talking than writing, I thought of coming down on Thursday next. There’s a cheap day trip that would get me to you
by about 12.30. Let me know on the enclosed card if it will be all right. All well at Number 25. Raymond was home at the weekend. He sent his love to you. So does Uncle. Looking forward to seeing you, dear.

Your very loving Auntie.

Anna looked again at the extra “very” in the last sentence, then pushed the letter in her pocket and set off for The Marsh House, thinking as she went.

It would be silly for Mrs Preston to come all this way just to tell her something she knew already. Should she write and say she knew? – “Dear Auntie, I know about the money. I’ve known for a long time, so you needn’t worry…” She felt a sudden spurt of anger against Miss Hannay for having made Mrs Preston feel guilty.
She tells me I have done wrong, dear –
what right had Miss Hannay to tell Auntie she had done wrong? “Tell Miss Hannay to mind her own business…”

No, it would be too difficult. Besides, it might look as if Anna did not want to see her. And she did – partly – in a way… It looked as if Auntie would have to come after all. She turned the corner and ran along the footpath to The Marsh House.

The Lindsays greeted her with their usual warmth, full of their own domestic excitements. Everything was wonderful. The boat had been definitely ordered, Dad was coming down tonight, and this afternoon, as the tide would
be low, they were all going cockling. Wasn’t it a wonderful day! The weather forecast prophesied another heatwave. Best of all, Gillie was coming next week, and she was going to stay two whole days and nights. Mrs Lindsay had finished the spare-room curtains this morning, just before the letter came. Wasn’t it lucky!

Anna, listening, felt her own small problems drifting away like the mist on the marsh.

“You’ll like Gillie,” said Jane.

“She painted the picture in the hall, you know,” said Scilla.

“Yes, she’s an artist,” said Matthew. “And she knows all about Little Overton. She’ll tell you about when the ships used to come right in to the staithe for loading, when her father was young.”

“She’s fairly old herself,” said Jane.

“But she’s a dear,” said Mrs Lindsay. “You must be here when she comes, Anna.” She turned to her with a smile. “What a terrible family we are for talking only about ourselves! And we haven’t seen you since at least yesterday evening. Tell us what’s new with you. Is that a letter sticking out of your pocket?”

“Yes, it’s from my auntie.” Anna hesitated. “I think she’s coming down for the day.”

“Oh, that will be nice! When is she coming?”

“On Thursday.”

“On Thursday? Oh dear—” Mrs Lindsay looked
thoughtful. “What a pity, that’s the day our Gillie’s coming. I would have liked to meet your auntie so much—”

“But Gillie isn’t coming till after tea, Mummy,” said Jane. “She said about six.”

“So she did!” Mrs Lindsay turned to Anna again.
“Do
bring her round to see us. Do you think she would like to come to tea? It would have to be rather early, if Gillie’s arriving at six.”

“She’d have to leave early anyway,” Anna said doubtfully. “She’d have to catch the five-thirty bus to the station.”

Mrs Lindsay said, “Shall I write and ask her? Do you think she’d like to come?”

Anna considered, and thought she might.

For a moment she had found it impossible even to imagine Mrs Preston at The Marsh House, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted her to come. She wanted her to see the Lindsays, and she wanted to see her
with
the Lindsays. If they liked her and she liked them, then – even if only for an hour – Anna’s two worlds would be joined into one.

At the back of her mind, too, was a thought she had not yet allowed herself to think about seriously. Her holiday could not last for ever. It was already August, and although the subject had never actually been mentioned, she knew she would have to go home again before next term began. If, when she was back at home, she could talk about the Lindsays, and Auntie knew the people she was talking
about, it would make all the difference. Yes, she
must
come. It was all arranged. Mrs Lindsay would write to Mrs Preston separately. And Anna wrote her card, adding casually, as if it were an afterthought,
by the way, we’ve been asked out to tea. She’s writing to you.

B
Y THE TIME
Thursday came, Anna was not so sure she had done right to accept the invitation. Suppose Mrs Preston was in one of her worrying moods, or wore the brown hat that Anna always hated? She watched anxiously for the bus and was relieved beyond measure when Mrs Preston stepped down wearing a new straw hat that she had not seen before.

“Oh, Auntie, what a pretty hat!”

“Do you like it? Will it do?” Mrs Preston was obviously
relieved too. “You must tell me, dear – in a minute, when I’ve said hello to the others – who
are
these people? I had such a nice letter. – Ah, there you are, Susan! And Sam! How are you both?”

Mrs Preston was told all about the Lindsays over lunch. Anna was surprised to learn that Mrs Pegg seemed to know as much, or even more about them than she knew herself. Apparently Miss Manders at the Post Office knew all about them, too. They were extremely nice people. London people, but not the kind who made themselves unpopular in the village. He was a scholar, a very clever man. The quiet type. She was charming. The children were all charming too. If they hadn’t been, Mrs Pegg would not, of course, have let Anna be always round there – that went without saying. As it was, it had been nice for the little lass to have company. And wasn’t she looking all the better for it?

Mrs Preston agreed that she certainly was, and said she was looking forward to meeting Mrs Lindsay and thanking her for her kindness to Anna.

Nevertheless, as the time drew near she grew increasingly nervous.

“I had things I wanted to talk to you about,” she said to Anna as they went upstairs to get ready. “But I think perhaps this isn’t quite the moment. Perhaps if we can get away early—?”

“Yes,” Anna said uneasily.

“We might go for a little walk, perhaps – just you and I?”

“Yes.”

Mrs Preston looked at her reflection in the mirror, and pushed some loose strands of hair under her hat with trembling fingers. Then she turned and faced Anna with her head on one side. “Will I do, dear?”

Anna made a little move towards her. “Yes, of course. You’re fine.” She stopped awkwardly. If only she wouldn’t look so
anxious
all the time! She thought of Mrs Lindsay’s easy, friendly manner. “You’re fine. There’s no need to worry. And you needn’t say good afternoon or how do you do, or anything like that when we get there.” She tried to make her voice sound casual and off-hand. “I mean hello is quite good enough. That’s all Mrs Lindsay ever says.”

Mrs Preston looked quite alarmed. “But, dear, I always say how do you do! It would seem so strange, so rude…”

Anna frowned. Whatever she said was only going to increase Mrs Preston’s anxiety. Perhaps she had better not mention the bear garden, and that it would not be a polite afternoon tea, anyway. That might put her off still more. She touched her on the arm awkwardly. “It’ll be all right. Whatever you do.”