When Marnie Was There

by Joan G. Robinson

  The tide was out, and she paddled across to the other side without even turning to look at the old house. There was a purple haze over the marsh, which was the sea lavender coming out, and she thought she might pick some of that, too, when she had finished with the samphire.

  For two hours she slithered about on the marsh, jumping over the streams, sometimes landing on springy turf and sometimes sinking into soft patches of black mud; hearing only the distant cry of the little grey-brown birds calling “Pity me! Oh, pity me!” from a long way off. The samphire was green and juicy, though it only tasted of sea salt, she thought. She picked until the bag was full, then, deciding to leave the sea lavender for another day, she set off towards the Post Office.

  Miss Manders looked at Anna over her spectacles and gave her a thin, tight smile. Anna gave her Mrs Pegg’s message, hearing, at the same time, someone come in behind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that it was Sandra and another girl.

  “—and Mrs Pegg says if you can spare the jam jars, please can she have some vinegar as well,” she finished, aware that the two girls were looking at her sideways and that Sandra was whispering. The younger girl burst into a peal of laughter, then there was some shushing and quiet scuffling behind her.

  When Miss Manders had gone out at the back to find the jars, Anna turned round with every intention of looking friendly, if she could. But try as she would she could not catch Sandra’s eye. She was now standing with her back to Anna, pretending to look at some postcards in a rack, and talking to her friend in a low voice. Again the other girl laughed, half glancing over her shoulder at Anna. Then Sandra, looking into a crate of ginger beer bottles, said loudly in an affected voice, “Ho, and hif you ’ave any old bottles to spare, kindly fill them with ginger beer, will you?”

  They both laughed immoderately at this, and Anna stood there feeling awkward, but she was determined to make Sandra look at her. She walked over towards her, intending to say “Hello,” but at that minute Miss Manders came back.

  “Tell Mrs Pegg I have got some,” she said to Anna, “but I’ll have to look them out later. They’re away at the back.”

  Anna said, “Thank you,” and moved towards the door. Then she remembered the vinegar. She went back and stood uncertainly behind the two girls, waiting while Miss Manders served them with two ice-cream wafers. Then the telephone rang, and Miss Manders, thinking Anna was only waiting for the others, shut the till and went to answer it. Sandra turned round and faced Anna.

  “Why are you following me about?” she demanded.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Wasn’t she?”

  The other girl nodded, licking delicately round the edges of her ice-cream. Sandra put out her tongue and kept it out, staring hard at Anna, then, very slowly and deliberately, without shifting her gaze, she lifted her ice-cream and ran it down the sides of her tongue.

  Anna stared back, noting with pleasure that the ice-cream from the lower end of the wafers was about to dribble down the front of Sandra’s dress. But she showed no sign.

  “I was only going to say hello—” she began coldly, but Sandra interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

  “Go on, then, call me, call me!”

  “What do you mean, call you?”

  “Call me what you like. I don’t care! I know what you look like, any road.” She turned and whispered to her companion, giggling, and the blob of ice-cream fell trickling down her dress.

  Anna looked at her scornfully. “Fat pig,” she said, and turned to go out.

  But Sandra barred her way. She had just seen the ice-cream on her dress and was scrubbing at it furiously. “Now I’ll tell you!” she said, spluttering. “Now I’ll tell you what you look like! You look like – like just what you are. There!”

  This startled Anna. She walked out of the Post Office – quite forgetting the vinegar – with all the appearance of not having heard, but knowing that Sandra had dealt her an underhand blow. Like “just what you are” she had said. But what was she?

  Angrily she walked down the lane, tearing at the poppies in the hedgerow, and crumpling them in her hot hand until they became slimy. She knew what she was only too well. She was ugly, silly, bad tempered, stupid, ungrateful, rude… and that was why nobody liked her. But to be told so by Sandra! She would never forgive her for that.

  She left the bag of samphire behind the outhouse, and went in to dinner looking sulky.

  Mrs Pegg did not know yet about her meeting Sandra, but she would hear soon enough. Mrs Stubbs would make sure of that. She would tell her that Anna had called Sandra a fat pig – and this after Mrs Pegg had specially said “try and look friendly”! Anna prepared herself in advance for the moment when Mrs Pegg should hear about it, by looking surly and answering all her kindly questions in monosyllables.

  “Ready for your dinner, love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Liver today. Do you like that?”

  “Quite.”

  “What’s up, my duck. Got out of bed the wrong side after all, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Never mind, then. You like bacon too – and onions?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs Pegg hovered beside her with the frying pan. “A please don’t hurt no-one neither,” she said a little tartly.

  “Please,” said Anna.

  “That’s a maid! Now sit you down and enjoy that. Maybe you’ll feel better after.”

  Anna ate her meal in silence, then got up to go. Sam reached out a hand as she passed his chair. “What ails you, my biddy?”

  “Nothing.”

  She ignored the hand, pretending not to see it, but in that instant she longed to flop down on the floor beside him and tell him everything. But she could not have done that without crying, and the very idea of such a thing appalled her. Anyway they would miss the point somehow. Mrs Preston always did. She was always kind, but also she was always so terribly concerned. If only there was someone who would let you cry occasionally for no reason, or hardly any reason at all! But there seemed to be some conspiracy against that. Long ago in the Home, she remembered, it had been the same. She could not remember the details, only a picture of herself running, sobbing across an enormous asphalt playground, and a woman as big as a mountain – as it had seemed to her then – swooping down on her in amazement, crying, “Anna! Anna! What ever are you crying for?” As if it had been a quite outrageous thing to do in that happy, happy place.

  All this passed through Anna’s mind as she passed Sam’s chair and went through into the scullery to put her empty plate into the sink. On no account must she cry. It would be too silly to say she was upset because she had called Sandra a fat pig. Or because Sandra had said she looked like just what she was. It was not just that, anyway. Mrs Pegg was going to hate her as soon as she heard about it, so it would be unfair to let her go on being kind now, not knowing.

  She hardened her heart and went out by the back door, slamming it behind her.

  The tide was far out and the creek a mere trickle. She glanced along the staithe towards The Marsh House, wondering if she might catch a glimpse of the girl she had seen last night, but there was no-one there. The house seemed asleep. She crossed the creek and walked over the marsh, paddling across the creek again on the far side, and came to the beach. There, with only the birds for company, she lay in a hollow in the sandhills all the long, hot afternoon, and thought about nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  MRS PEGG’S BINGO NIGHT

  IT WAS MRS Pegg’s Bingo night. Anna had forgotten until she came back several hours later to find Mrs Pegg already changed into her best blouse, and rummaging in the dresser drawer for a small pot of vanishing cream which she kept there for special occasions.

  “Your tea’s keeping hot over the saucepan,” she said to Anna. “Turn off the gas when you’ve finished, there’s a good lass. Sam’s up to the Queen’s Head for a game of dominoes, so he had his early with me. Now where’s that pot of cream
gone? It really do seem like vanishing cream sometimes. Ah, there it is!” She pulled it out from among an assortment of kettle holders, paper bags and tea cloths, and began dabbing her face haphazardly. “Now where are me shoes? I could have swore I brought them down. You won’t forget to turn the gas off, will you, love? I’d better go and find me shoes.” She lumbered off to find another pair.

  Anna was glad. No-one had been bothering about her. No-one had been wasting their time worrying whether she was happy or not. Her bad temper of dinner-time had been forgotten. Now Bingo and dominoes were in the ascendant. The Peggs were like that; they really did forget, not just pretend to. So she, too, was free – free to cut herself right off from them. From the Peggs, the Stubbs, and everyone else. It was a relief not to feel she was being watched and worried over all the time… In any case, by tomorrow Mrs Pegg would probably have heard all about her meeting with Sandra… When Mrs Pegg came hobbling back in her best shoes (which were exactly the same as her ordinary ones, only tighter), Anna was looking out of the window. And when Mrs Pegg finally went to the door, saying, “Well, I’m off at last, my duck. Make yourself some tea if you’ve a mind,” she only glanced round and said, “Goodbye” in a polite, formal voice.

  And now Anna was alone. The clock ticked on the dresser, and the saucepan on the stove bubbled gently. She discovered her “tea” – a mountain of baked beans alongside a kipper, and a sticky iced bun – and ate through it solemnly, still wrapped around in this quiet, untouchable state of not-caring. Then she turned off the gas, put the dishes on the draining board, and went out again.

  It was dusk and the tide had come in. It must have come in very quickly while she was having her tea, for the staithe was now covered with a smooth sheet of silvery water, which came up to within a few feet of the bank. A small boat was tied to a post, floating in shallow water barely a foot from the shore. It had not been there before, she was sure. She could not have failed to notice it lying on its side as it would have been then, and so far up on the beach. It was a beautiful little boat, almost new and the colour of a polished walnut.

  She went closer and looked inside.

  A silver anchor lay in the bow, its white rope neatly coiled, and a pair of oars were lying ready in the rowlocks. It looked as if someone had just stepped ashore and would be back any minute. She looked round quickly but there was no-one to be seen. Nor had anyone come up the road for at least the last ten minutes. If they had, Anna would have seen them. And yet, more and more, she had the feeling that the boat was waiting for someone; not just lying idle like the others. After all, it was not moored, the anchor was still in the bow, and the rope was only twisted twice round the post. It almost seemed as if it might be waiting for her.

  She glanced round again, took off her plimsolls and then, without pausing to think, pulled the boat towards her and stepped inside. The sudden movement tugged at the rope and loosened it. Anna sat down, pulled it in, and took hold of the oars. She had never rowed a boat before in her life – though she did remember once taking an oar with Mr Preston when they had been in Bournemouth, and she remembered, too, the golden rule he had impressed upon her about never standing up in a boat – but beyond that she had no experience at all. And yet now she felt perfectly confident.

  Carefully she dipped one oar, then the other, then both together in small quiet strokes, and found herself moving steadily away from the post and along the shore. She was moving along towards The Marsh House. Almost without realising it she had turned the boat in that direction.

  It was utterly calm and dreamlike on the water. She forgot to row and leaned forward on the oars, looking at the afterglow of the sunset, which lay in streaks along the horizon. A sandpiper – was it a sandpiper? – called, “Pity me!” from across the marsh, and another answered, “Pity me! Oh, pity me!”

  She sat up suddenly, realising that although she had stopped rowing she was still moving. The bank to her left was slipping away fast, and already she was drifting past the front of The Marsh House. She saw lights in the first-floor windows, then she made a sudden grab for the oars. Over her shoulder she had just seen that she was heading straight for the corner where the wall jutted out into the water. If she was not quick she would bump into it. She plunged the left oar into the water, hoping to turn the boat, but the oar went in flat and she nearly fell over backwards. At the same moment a voice sounded almost in her ear – a high, childish voice with a tremble of laughter in it.

  “Quick! Throw me the rope!”

  Chapter Nine

  A GIRL AND A BOAT

  ANNA THREW THE rope, felt the jerk as it tightened, and the boat was drawn in until it bumped gently against the wall.

  She looked up. Standing above her, at the top of what she now saw was a flight of steps cut into the wall, was a girl. The same girl as she had seen before. She was wearing a long, flimsy dress, and her fair hair fell in strands over her shoulders as she bent forward, peering down into the boat.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” said Anna, in her ordinary voice.

  “Ssh!” The girl lifted a finger to her lips. “Don’t let anyone hear. Can you climb out?”

  Anna climbed out, the girl tied the rope to an iron ring in the wall, and they stood together at the top of the steps, eyeing each other in the half light. This is a dream, thought Anna. I’m imagining her, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t say anything. And she went on staring and staring as if she were looking at a ghost. But the strange girl was looking at her in the same way.

  “Are you real?” Anna whispered at last.

  “Yes, are you?”

  They laughed and touched each other to make sure. Yes, the girl was real, her dress was made of a light, silky stuff, and her arm, where Anna touched it, was warm and firm.

  Apparently the girl, too, had accepted Anna’s reality. “Your hand’s sticky,” she said, rubbing her own down the side of her dress. “It doesn’t matter, but it is.” Then she added, wonderingly, “Are you a beggar girl?”

  “No,” said Anna. “Why should I be?”

  “You’ve got no shoes on. And your hair’s dark and straggly, like a gipsy’s. What’s your name?”

  “Anna.”

  “Are you staying in the village?”

  “Yes, with Mr and Mrs Pegg.”

  The girl looked at her thoughtfully. In the fading light Anna could barely see her features, but she thought that her eyes were blue with straight dark lashes.

  “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.

&nb
sp; “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?”