When Marnie Was There (7 page)

“I’m not allowed to play with the village children,” the girl said slowly, “but you’re a visitor, aren’t you? Anyway, it makes no difference. They’ll never know.”

Anna turned away abruptly. “You needn’t bother,” she said.

But the girl held her back. “No, don’t go! Don’t be such a goose. I
want
to know you! Don’t you want to know me?”

Anna hesitated. Did she want to know this strange girl? She hardly knew the answer herself. But to get things straight first, she said, “My hands are sticky because I had a bun for tea, and my hair’s untidy because I haven’t brushed it since this morning. I
have
got some shoes, but I left them on the beach. So now you know.”

The girl laughed and pulled her down beside her on to the top step. “Let’s sit here, then they won’t see us if they look out. But we must talk quietly.” She glanced over her shoulder, up towards the house. Anna followed her look. “They’re all up there,” she whispered. “That’s the drawing-room where the lights are.”

There was a sudden sound of a window opening just above their heads. The girl ducked down and put her hand on Anna’s shoulder, making her duck down too. Silently they eased their way down a step, and sat huddled together, heads bent, the girl holding Anna’s arm in a tight grip. Above them a woman’s voice said, “How beautiful the marsh is at night! I could sit here for ever.” The girl gave a shiver of excitement and ducked lower. They held hands,
laughing silently, seeing only each other’s white teeth shining in the darkness.

“Shut the window,” said a man’s voice from above. There was a sound of music from inside the room, then a burst of laughter and other voices. Someone called, “Marianna, come and dance!” Then the woman’s voice, right overhead, said, “Yes, in a minute. By the way, where’s the child?”

The girl flung her arm round Anna’s waist and they held their breath. Anna did not remember ever being so close to anyone before. Then the man’s voice said, “In bed, I should hope. Come on, do shut the window.” There was a click as the window closed again, then silence. From the marsh came again the sound of the little grey-brown bird calling, “Pity me! Oh, pity me!” A slight breeze ruffled the water and the boat rocked gently below them. The girl let go of Anna’s hand.

“Was it you they were talking about?” Anna whispered. She nodded, laughing quietly. “Then why are you in that dress? Weren’t you meant to be at the party?”

“That was earlier. It’s late now. I’m supposed to be in bed. You heard. Are you allowed to stay up all night?”

Anna shook her head. “No, I’ll have to go soon anyway—” she paused, remembering the way she had come. “Is it your boat?” she whispered.

“Yes, of course. I left it on purpose for you. But I didn’t know you couldn’t row!” They chuckled together in the darkness, and Anna felt suddenly tremendously happy.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked. “Have you seen me?”

“Yes, often.”

“But I thought you’d only just come!”

The girl laughed again, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She leaned towards Anna and whispered in her ear, so that it tickled. “Silly, of course not! I’ve been here ages.”

“How long?” Anna whispered back.

“A week at least,” there was a teasing note in her voice. “Ssh! Come down now and I’ll row you back.”

In the boat Anna said, “Have you been watching me?”

The girl nodded. “Hush! Voices carry over the water.”

Anna lowered her voice. “I had a feeling you were. Sometimes I even looked round to see who it was, looking and looking like that – but you were never there.”

The girl laughed softly. “I was!”

“Where?”

She leaned forward on the oars and pointed upwards. “In my window. The last one on the end.”

Anna nodded slowly. “Yes, of course. I should have known. I saw you there. And I saw you last night. You were having your hair brushed.”

“I saw you, too.”

Anna was surprised. “But you were standing sideways, you couldn’t have. You never showed—”

“No, of course I didn’t— Ssh! Don’t shout.” – Anna had thought she was talking quietly – “Didn’t you know, you’re my secret? I’ve not told anyone about you, and I’m not going to. If I do they’ll only spoil it.” She leaned forward and touched Anna’s knee. “Promise you won’t tell about me either? Not ever?”

“Oh, no, I won’t!”

Anna loved being asked. Here was someone just like herself. This was the one thing she would have chosen – to
have a secret friend, a friend no-one else knew about. Someone who was real, and yet not quite real…

“What were you doing on the marsh this morning?” the girl asked dreamily.

“Picking samphire. Why, did you see me then, too?”

“Yes. I wondered if you were picking sea lavender… I love sea lavender…” Her voice had dropped so low that Anna could barely hear the last words.

The boat grated gently on the shore and she leapt out. She stood holding the bow for a moment, not speaking, unwilling to say goodbye. The girl, in her light dress against the dark background of water and marsh and reeds, looked like a small, pale ghost now. It had grown quite dark. There was silence all around except for the soft lapping of the water at Anna’s feet. She looked up and saw overhead the enormous sky, peppered with stars. Yes, she thought, this is all a dream…

Then the girl said – her voice wavering a little – “You look like a ghost, standing there so still. Anna – Anna, you
are
real, aren’t you?”

Anna laughed with relief, and the girl laughed too.

“Come here,” she said.

Anna leaned over towards her, and the girl kissed her quickly on the cheek. “There,” she said, “now I know you’re real. Give me a push off quickly, before you turn into a ghost again!” Then, as Anna shoved the boat off, she called in a low voice, with what sounded like a chuckle, “And
next time I’ll teach you how to row! Goodbye – don’t forget your shoes!”

Anna raked about on the dark shore until she found her shoes – she would have forgotten them if the girl had not reminded her; that
proved
she was real! – and ran home trembling with excitement. She had sworn she would never get to know the family when they came, yet now she was as pleased as if she had never met anyone of her own age before.

But this girl was different. There was something almost magical about her. She realised suddenly that she did not even know her name, and slowed down to a walk for a moment, wondering confusedly why ever she had not asked. Perhaps there had not been time. She could not remember. She only knew that something wonderful seemed to have happened.

She ran up the little road towards the cottage, hearing in the distance the voices of the Bingo players coming home down the lane, laughing and talking, and calling goodnight to each other as they dropped off in ones and twos at their own gates. She raced ahead, pushed open the scullery door and saw the light burning, the kettle boiling on the stove, and the cocoa cups already laid out by Sam, and it seemed like another world…

A
T BREAKFAST NEXT
morning Anna caught Mrs Pegg looking at her with a puzzled expression. Then she remembered about the Bingo. Mrs Stubbs would have been there and she would have told her about Anna and Sandra.

Well, she was not going to think about that now. She had something far nicer to think about. She ate her breakfast quietly, smiling to herself as she remembered her adventure of last night; that strange girl, and her lovely little boat… Would she be down on the creek again tonight? She had
forgotten to ask! Dismayed, she held a forkful of fried bread with a small piece of tomato balanced on top, halfway to her mouth and stared at it intently. Then she remembered that the girl said she would teach her to row next time. She smiled again, pushed the fork into her mouth, and looking up, caught Mrs Pegg’s eye.

“Well, you like your breakfast, any road,” said Mrs Pegg. “That’s one comfort.”

Anna pulled herself together. “Yes, thank you. It’s very nice.”

Mrs Pegg looked at her with her head on one side, thoughtfully. “Did you forget what I asked you yesterday morning?”

Anna looked up defensively. Mrs Pegg had asked her to be friendly to Sandra, and she had tried, and it had not worked. But she was not going to show she cared about that.

“Not that it matters all that much,” Mrs Pegg was saying, “only Sam said to me after you’d gone, ‘There,’ he says, ‘I could have just fancied a bit of pickled sanfer again’—”

But Sam, suddenly realising what was being said, interrupted. “No, no, leave the lass be, Susan. I can pick me own sanfer if I’ve a mind. Happen she’d other things to occupy her mind, hadn’t you, my biddy?”

Anna looked up vaguely, only half listening. What were they talking about? Samphire? Then she remembered. She had left it behind the outhouse after meeting Sandra and
had forgotten all about it. Without a word she got up and went out to fetch it, carrying it in and putting it down just inside the door.

“There now, what a surprise!” said Mrs Pegg, all smiles. “And us thinking you’d forgot! I suppose you didn’t think to ask Miss Manders about the jars as well, did you, my duck?”

Anna, still standing by the door, said cautiously, “Yes, I did. She said she’d look them out later.” She watched Mrs Pegg’s face but saw no change in her expression, which was still one of pleased surprise. “I’ll fetch them now if you like, and the vinegar,” she added, trying to sound neither sullen nor ingratiating, just ordinary.

Mrs Pegg said that would be real kind, but no need to hurry as she’d plenty to do first. But Anna preferred to go straight away. She took down the string bag from its peg behind the door and went out, leaving the two of them smiling and shaking their heads at each other. She was a queer one and no mistake.

So Mrs Pegg did not know yet. Anna wondered why, then reminded herself she did not care anyway. And it was as well she had reminded herself, because the first thing Mrs Pegg said, when she came back and they were unloading the jars, was, “I’ll be going up to the Corner tonight, so maybe I’ll take a jar with me. Mrs Stubbs used to be partial to pickled sanfer.”

“Did you see her at the Bingo?” Anna asked, as casually as she could.

Mrs Pegg shook her head. “No, we was at different ends of the room, but she says to me at the door after, ‘Come over to mine tonight,’ she says, ‘there’s something I want to see you about.’ It’ll be about them patterns her sister’s brought from Lynn, I’m thinking – for the chair covers. She’s been promising me this long time. I thought Mrs S didn’t look too pleased neither – because I didn’t go the first time she asked me, I suppose. Any road, I said I’d go tonight. So you don’t mind if I’m a bit late back, do you, my duck?”

No, Anna assured her, she did not mind at all. She liked being on her own best of all; and she hardly noticed the surprised glance Mrs Pegg gave her.

It was dusk when Anna went down to the creek that evening. All afternoon Mrs Pegg had been busy, washing and pickling the samphire, and now, in her best blouse and with a jar, filled and sealed, in her hand, she had gone off to Mrs Stubbs-up-at-the-Corner. Anna had watched her go, doggedly closing her mind to the hurtfulness of the situation – poor Mrs Pegg going all unsuspecting with her little gift, only to be scolded by Mrs Stubbs about Anna’s bad behaviour. Once upon a time she might have found some roundabout way of warning her beforehand, but this evening she had not even allowed herself to think about it.

She was dismayed at first to find no boat, and the water still halfway down the staithe when she got to the creek. Then she remembered that of course the tide would be
nearly an hour later tonight. She hung around, sitting on the slope of the bank, and searching the shore for signs of shells or sea urchins, but finding only pieces of cork, some tarred rope, and a broken bottle top. Then it grew dark.

Depressed, she leaned up against the post where the little boat had been tied up, and told herself the girl was not coming. Already the tide had crept up the shore and was beginning to swirl sluggishly round the foot of the post. Perhaps she had imagined her after all. Perhaps the whole thing was a silly dream… And then, suddenly, there was a soft plashing of oars, the rhythmic rattle of rowlocks, and there she was, as real as real, coming nearer and nearer. Anna splashed into the water to meet her.