A child’s desk and a small chair stood near the door. Against the opposite wall was a cupboard with doors slightly ajar revealing worn books and old toys. A high, narrow pram with a canopy and a rocking cradle were arranged beside the cupboard, and there was also a small table set for tea.
Perhaps it was the child-sized furniture in contrast to the large scale of everything else in the house, or perhaps it was the added warmth of carpets and curtains, but this room contained a welcome the other rooms lacked.
“It’s Shona’s room,” Anna whispered. “Shona’s toys!”
“They’re not Shona’s,” Marjorie said, yet she couldn’t escape the feeling that somewhere a little girl was waiting to come back and play with the toys.
“Shona told me about the toys,” Anna said.
“What did she say about them?”
“When she showed me her painting, she said there was a room in the house filled with toys. She said someday she would take me to her house and let me play with her toys. She promised.”
Marjorie had a sudden picture of Shona and Anna in one of the drab rooms of the orphanage, looking at the painting of Shona’s house. Of course they would imagine that it contained wonderful things—a family, a room full of toys. But Shona would know that it was all just make-believe, while for Anna it was real.
Yet it was real—the house, the toys.
Anna tiptoed across the room to the little table already set for tea. Taking a bear and a rather stiff china doll from the pram, she was soon engrossed in a game of her own. Marjorie went over to the cupboard and looked at the books. They were mostly fairy tales and picture books, but then she found a copy of What Katy Did. She opened it and began to read.
At last, the fading light reminded Marjorie that it was time to go home. She jumped up saying, “The picture show will be over, and the Miss Campbells will be wondering where we are.”
“The picture show?” Anna asked, puzzled. In her excitement she had completely forgotten they were supposed to be at the pictures.
Reluctantly they replaced the books and toys and then ran down the spiral staircase and down the narrow stairs at the back of the house. They found themselves in what Marjorie guessed must be the butler’s pantry. On one wall were shiny brass bells, each labeled with a different room of the house. But the house stood empty. There was no one to ring the bells, no one to answer.
They left by the same route as they had entered. It was harder to scramble up out of the little hatch door than it had been to drop down inside. By the time they were back on the driveway, they were very dirty and disheveled. Marjorie spent a few minutes scrubbing a streak of soot from Anna’s face with her handkerchief. Then they set off home through the rain that was now falling steadily.
“You’ve got to promise to keep all this secret from the Miss Campbells,” Marjorie cautioned Anna. “We can’t tell them about the house because they think we’ve been at the pictures.”
When they reached home, they hung up their wet coats. Miss Agnes had socks and slippers warming by the fire because she was sure their feet would be cold and wet after walking all the way from the picture house in that awful rain. Her kindly fussing made Marjorie feel guilty, but she pushed the feeling away with the thought of the Christmas presents they would buy.
“And what picture did you see, my dears?” she asked kindly.
Marjorie searched for something to say, but Anna immediately launched into a long and detailed account of some movie she had once seen. Marjorie wasn’t sure if Anna was trying to conceal the fact that they’d been at Clairmont House of if Miss Campbell’s question had merely reminded her of this movie. At any rate, the account was so long and so detailed, that Miss Campbell soon lost the thread of it and busied herself with making tea so that it would be ready when her sister came home from the shop. By the time Anna was finished, Marjorie was sure they were safe from any more questions about their afternoon at the pictures.
Chapter 6
Christmas Surprises
The following day was taken up with church and Sunday school. The Miss Campbells were very regular church goers, sitting together in a pew near the front, wearing their matching Sunday hats and tweed coats over matching silk dresses. That Sunday there was quite a delay when they found that Marjorie’s red coat (which seemed shorter and tighter each time she wore it) was streaked with dirt.
“Where have your been child?” Miss Morag asked crossly. “It looks for all the world as if you’ve been playing in a coal cellar.”
It was lucky that Anna chose that moment to fuss about a lost mitten and divert Miss Morag’s attention, or Miss Morag would surely have noticed Marjorie’s guilty look and questioned her further.
Dirty though the coat was, Marjorie had to wear it to church in the morning and Sunday school in the afternoon. Anna’s coat was navy blue, so if there were telltale smudges of coal on hers, they didn’t show.
All that next week Anna begged Marjorie to take her back to Clairmont House, but by the time they came home from school at four o’clock it was almost dark, so there was no chance. Marjorie knew that Anna only wanted to go back to the house so she could play with the toys in the turret room, and the thought of stealing through the coal cellar again made Marjorie feel uncomfortable. Besides, the visit to Clairmont House had left Marjorie feeling guilty all over again about having changed places with Shona. She should have been the one to come to Canonbie, the one to have found Clairmont House.
They looked at Shona’s picture but found they didn’t like it now. It was the same house, they were sure of that, but somehow the picture distorted the truth. It was almost as if the person who had painted it had not liked what he saw and had tried to destroy it in his picture. Marjorie shivered and pushed the picture far back under the bed.
But Anna still nagged.
“We’ll go next Saturday,” Marjorie finally promised.
However, Saturday turned out to be the day of the Sunday school party. Anna and Marjorie didn’t want to go, but the evacuee children were to be special guests. This was Canonbie’s way of making them feel at home at Christmas. So, well scrubbed and brushed, they were escorted by the Miss Campbells to the same church hall where they had been taken when they first arrived in Canonbie.
Today the hall was decorated with paper streamers and balloons and children ran shouting and sliding the length of it. Even Marjorie and Anna were drawn into the gaiety and rowdiness of the party. Tables sagged under the weight of sandwiches, biscuits, cakes and shivering jellies, which parents and teachers had provided, determined that, war or no war, this was to be a Christmas the children would enjoy.
A tall tree stood in one corner, and tied to the branches were presents, each labeled with a child’s name. Anna spent a long time studying the tree trying to spell out the names in an effort to make sure there were presents for her and Marjorie. After tea, Father Christmas, round and jovial in his red coat and big rubber boots, came striding into the hall and distributed the presents.
Both Anna and Marjorie received two packages each. One of Anna’s contained a hat and mittens, and the other a doll wearing a red dress and a green velvet coat and bonnet. The doll even had underwear, and socks and shoes that came off. Anna could hardly wait for the party to end so that she could get down to the serious business of playing with her new doll. She named it Elizabeth. Marjorie also got a hat and mittens, and her other present was a copy of Anne of Green Gables. Oddly enough, only the day before, Miss Dunlop asked her if she’d read it.
Then it was Christmas Eve. The girls spent a long time that day choosing gifts for the Miss Campbells. Anna wanted to get them matching presents, but Marjorie was determined that they should each have something different.
“That way they’ll know it’s their own, chosen just for them,” she insisted to Anna, and Anna finally gave in.
Miss Morag brought home a Christmas tree, much smaller than the one in the church hall, and Miss Agnes produced a box of delicate Christmas ornaments and
allowed the girls to hang them on the branches. Under the tree were presents waiting to be opened. Marjorie could tell that the Miss Campbells were almost as excited as they were when they saw their names on packages wrapped by Marjorie and Anna.
The next morning the girls were awake long, long before it was light, feeling the lumpy packages in the woolen stockings that had hung limp and empty at the foot of their beds the night before.
Marjorie reached into her stocking and found an apple, an orange, and a little net bag of gold coins, which were made of chocolate. Then she pulled out three lengths of smooth, satin ribbon. She was delighted because her hair was beginning to grow again and now she could tie a bow in it. Meantime, Anna was arranging her treasures on her bed, her small, pale face alive with excitement. She, too, had an apple, an orange, and chocolate coins, and in addition, a flowered nightgown, just the right size for her doll Elizabeth.
After breakfast there were more packages to open. Anna had made each of the Miss Campbells a pen wiper—several circles of flannel held together with a button sewn through the middle. Marjorie had knitted a tiny scarf for Elizabeth and explained there would be a hat to match when she got it finished.
Then Miss Morag gave each of the girls a large square box. “I’m afraid these aren’t new,” she cautioned them. “They belonged to us when we were girls, and I hope you’ll get a chance to use them before the winter’s over.”
The boxes were heavy, and Marjorie began to open hers slowly, enjoying the moment of wondering what could be inside. But Anna ripped hers open and with a shout of delight pulled out ice skates. Then Marjorie had to hurry to make sure that she, too, had skates. And she did—shiny skates attached to high laced black boots.
Anna jumped up and hugged the Miss Campbells while Marjorie sat very still, running her fingers along the silver blades.
“I hope you don’t think they’re a bit old-fashioned,” Miss Agnes said.
“Oh, no!” Marjorie answered. “I like them better because they were yours. It makes us like a real family—you keeping them all that time and then giving them to us.” She wished that, like Anna, she could throw her arms around them both, but she was too shy. To hide her confusion, she ran over to the window, saying, “I do wish it would freeze!” But all she could see were heavy, dark rain clouds.
“It will,” Miss Agnes promised. “We mostly get a good freeze in January or February, and then you’ll see all the children going to Escrigg Pond. Those who don’t have skates just slide or take turns with those who have. And the old men will be there with their curling stones. Some winters I’ve seen them close the shops if they think the ice may not last, so they can finish their curling match before the thaw.”
Then Miss Agnes opened her present from the girls—a brightly patterned silk scarf. Marjorie saw Morag watching her sister as she knotted it around her neck, all the time fingering her package impatiently. From the feel of it she must know it wasn’t a scarf. She tore off the paper and gave a little cry of pleasure as she held out her present for her sister to see. It was a wooden egg-cup, shaped like a little man. He had a pointed felt hat to fit over the egg to keep it warm.
During the afternoon Marjorie saw Morag looking at Agnes’s bright scarf, and she hoped she wasn’t envious. But at teatime Morag said that as well as the sandwiches and Christmas cake they had planned, they would have boiled eggs. She looked pleased when she served their eggs in plain white cups and set the jaunty cap on her own little egg-cup man.
That evening, as Marjorie lay in bed, she began to wonder what Christmas had been like for Shona in Canada. It couldn’t possibly have been as cozy and friendly as their day had been. She thought back to her own past Christmases with Uncle Fergus. He usually took her to the pantomime, but he never seemed to enjoy it much. And he gave her lots of presents, but he never acted excited when she opened them. Then she remembered that she had never put much thought into his presents, either. Sometimes she even left it to Mrs. Kilpatrick to buy him something, but it had always been so difficult to find anything he would like or need. How much nicer this Christmas had been with all the secrets, the planning, and the surprises.
Then her thoughts went back to Shona again—how she and Anna had found Clairmont House and that there was no way to tell Shona. Was Shona wishing they had never changed places? She surely would if she knew that Marjorie was living in Canonbie not far from the house that was somehow tied up with her past.
But she could write to Shona! She could write to Marjorie Malcolm-Scott at Willowbrae Road, Edinburgh, and put “Please Forward” on the envelope. Mrs. Kilpatrick must know the address of the cousins in Canada and could sent the letter on.
Marjorie climbed out of bed and felt her way across the room to make sure that the curtains were closed before she turned on the light.
“What are you doing, Shona?” Anna asked, blinking as light flooded the room.
“I’m going to write a letter to the real Shona and tell her that we’ve found Clairmont House.”
“Don’t do that!” Anna said. “Maybe she’d want to come back.”
“That’s why I have to do it,” Marjorie answered.
“Please don’t! I’d much rather have you here,” Anna pleaded.
But Marjorie sat down at the dressing table and began to write the letter on a page torn from her school exercise book. She wrote quickly, in case she changed her mind.
“Don’t send it,” Anna begged. “If you tell her about her playroom, she’ll come back.”
“I don’t know that she can come back—not while the war’s on.”
“If Shona wants to, she’ll come,” Anna said with conviction.
Chapter 7
Anna’s Bad Day
After celebrating Christmas both Miss Campbells were busy in the shop taking inventory—counting each reel of thread, each skein of silk, and all the bolts of material they had on hand. Marjorie was left in charge of Anna, but Anna seemed to have plans of her own these days, spending long stretches of time away by herself. Marjorie scarcely noticed because she was so engrossed in Anne of Green Gables. The Christmas holiday passed quickly and uneventfully.
One night, just before school started, the girls were awakened by the wail of the air-raid siren. They had heard it before, but only when it sounded on Saturday afternoon at one o’clock for practice. This time it was real, warning them that there were German planes overhead, planes loaded with bombs. Marjorie’s skin prickled and she pulled the covers over her head trying to shut out the sound.
“Wake up, girls! Wake up!” Miss Campbell burst into the room and started shaking Marjorie. “There’s an air raid! We have to go down to the shelter. Bring your blankets.”
In great haste, tripping over her blankets, Marjorie followed the Miss Campbells down the stairs. Anna was so doped with sleep that, at first, she didn’t understand what was happening.
The Miss Campbells didn’t have a real air-raid shelter, but had decided the safest place in their house was the broom closet under the stairs. In the event of bombs exploding nearby, they would be protected from flying glass and falling bricks. The structure of the cupboard actually made it almost as safe as a shelter. They had stocked it with tins of biscuits and bottles of lemonade and candles and magazines.
But when Anna reached the closet door, she suddenly became frightened.
“Not in there! Not in there!” she shouted.
“Come along,” Miss Morag said impatiently, but Anna kicked and screamed, knocking over the mops and brushes standing near the door.
When they finally allowed Anna to sit out in the hall, her sobs subsided somewhat. Marjorie would have liked to join her. The closet was quite large, but the lack of windows and fresh air gave Marjorie a trapped feeling. It smelled of polish and ammonia and dust, and she was sure there were spiders and earwigs lurking in the corners, but the Miss Campbells were so proud of their improvised shelter she didn’t like to abandon it.
“Come in and join us, Anna,” Miss Morag sa
id in a pleasant voice. “We’re going to have tea and biscuits.”
But Anna only started crying again.
“Likely someone shut her up in a cupboard when she was little,” Miss Agnes suggested. “Did they treat you all right in that orphanage you came from?”
“Oh, yes,” Marjorie answered.
“How long did you live there?”
“My parents died when I was four,” Marjorie answered.
“And what about Anna?” Miss Morag asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Just then they heard the drone of the German bombers. They were used to the sound of planes passing over, even at night, but to their straining ears these German planes sounded different—a dull throbbing that rose and fell with an uneven beat, a heavy sound. The sound of planes loaded with bombs.
Anna gave another frightened cry and hurled herself into the closet, spilling Miss Campbell’s tea all over the blankets. By the time they had sorted themselves out, the planes had passed over. After some time the siren sounded again, but with a different note. It was the all-clear siren.
They went back to bed, only to be awakened half an hour later by another wailing siren. They got up again and went down to the shelter, but this time Miss Agnes didn’t bother to make tea. Anna didn’t fuss, but Marjorie could feel her shivering under the blankets—probably as much from cold as from fright because she hadn’t bothered to put her slippers on.
The next day in his usual unemotional tone, the news commentator said that there had been an air raid on Glasgow. Considerable damage was reported.
As the air raids continued, the people of Canonbie gradually gained confidence. They no longer crawled out of bed to spend their nights in makeshift shelters. The German planes were just flying over on their way to drop bombs on the Glasgow docks. But the Miss Campbells still woke the girls and took them downstairs. They huddled under blankets in the broom closet, drinking cups of hot, sweet tea, and then crept back up to their cold beds after the all clear sounded, shivering and wakeful, wishing for morning.
Searching for Shona Page 5
