The lady in the blue dress was separating the sea lavender into small bunches and calling to the others to come and take one each, for luck. She took a sprig for herself and put it in her hair, then she put others in the men’s buttonholes, in the women’s dresses, insisting that everyone should wear them.
Anna watched, unnoticed. The grown-ups seemed to have forgotten her. They were laughing a lot, mocking each other, and now they seemed to be playing some sort of game. Someone threw the remaining sprays high into the air and they ran to catch them. They began tossing them to each other across the room, and Anna saw a sprinkling of grey dust fall from the dry flowers on to the floor.
A big man with pink cheeks and white hair came up to her and offered her a glass of red wine.
“Your health, my little lavender girl!” he said, and bowed low; so low that Anna could see only the top of his pink head with the curly white hair growing round it like a crown.
She took the glass and smiled, and he moved away. She wondered whether she should drink it, and looked around for Marnie, but she had disappeared.
The music struck up again and they started dancing. Anna saw Marnie again. She was on the far side of the room, waltzing with a tall, fair-haired boy of about sixteen. Anna was surprised to see how well she could dance, although she was so young. In this strange, foreign world even Marnie seemed to have become a stranger.
Someone had put a chair for Anna, and the dancers swept by, the women’s light dresses brushing against her legs. She took a sip of the wine. It tasted strong and sweet. She had never tasted wine before and was not sure if she liked it. She took another sip. The bright dresses swirled past her. The music made her feel light-headed. There was a strange exciting smell on the air – the smell of wine, cigar smoke, and perfume, mingling with the scent of the roses. She took another sip from the glass and began to feel drowsy. The big man with pink cheeks and curly white hair appeared beside her with another glass of wine and held it out to her, saying something. The music drowned his words, but the lady in blue suddenly darted between them and seized the glass from his hand, saying, “No, no. She is only a child. Come and dance with me,” and swept him away again. Anna could hear her laughter as she spun him around, her long necklace flying out behind her, and her blue skirts floating… floating… The bright colours merged into one another, the music rose and fell, and Anna felt herself drifting away into sleep…
Chapter Fourteen
AFTER THE PARTY
“OUGHT YOU TO go now, do you think? Will they be missing you?”
Anna had no idea how much later it was that Marnie had come up behind her and was whispering in her ear. She shook herself awake and sat up, rubbing her eyes. The music was fainter now and seemed to be coming from farther away. She saw that the guests had moved through into another room, beyond the crimson curtains. For the moment she and Marnie were alone.
“Ought I? What time is it?”
“I don’t know, but I think the tide’s on the turn. If you come now I’ll take you back in the boat, but we’d better not wait too long. Once the tide’s out you’ll have to walk along the staithe in the slippery mud, it’s better to go now. Come now while no-one’s looking.”
“All right.” Anna rose to her feet and stumbled out of the room, following Marnie along the passage to the side door. Outside it was cool and quiet. There was a sound of water lapping, and a fresh salt smell. Beyond the marsh she could hear the soughing of the sea, and distant waves breaking on the beach.
As they reached the top of the steps they heard a door opening behind them and looked back. The tall, fair-haired boy was standing silhouetted against a strip of light in the doorway, looking this way and that, as if searching for someone. Marnie seized her hand and they ducked down. “Ssh! Don’t let him see you.”
The door closed again. They stepped down into the boat and pushed off silently. Marnie laughed quietly. “He’s a nuisance – always following me about to make sure I don’t get into mischief. I’m glad he didn’t see us.”
“Why? – Don’t you like him?” Anna had thought he looked a nice boy, but if Marnie said not she was ready to agree.
Marnie said impatiently, “Oh, yes, he’s all right, but he always makes it his business to look after me, and sometimes it’s a bore. Look, here we are. Can you step out here, then I needn’t pull the boat ashore.”
Anna stepped out, holding her shoes in her hand, still clutching the shawl round her neck.
“Goodbye, beggar girl!” said Marnie, laughing.
“Oh, I forgot!” Anna untied the knot of the shawl. Something small and dark dropped into the water. “Oh, my rose!” she cried. But it was too late; already it was beyond her reach, floating away into the darkness.
Marnie laughed at her dismay. “It was only a rose,” she said. “There are plenty more.”
Anna dropped the shawl into the boat. “Goodbye,” she said. “It was lovely – I never even imagined…” she stopped suddenly, remembering. “Tomorrow – the tide – it will be so late…”
“Yes, oh bother!” Marnie considered, nodding her head thoughtfully up and down. “Never mind. I’ll see you – somewhere, some time, I can’t promise where or when. But keep looking out for me – please—” She turned sharply as a dog began barking loudly from somewhere beyond The Marsh House – “That’ll be Pluto. That means some of them are leaving already. I must go.” She took hold of the oars and repeated, “Keep looking out for me. And remember, you promise not to tell – ever?”
“Oh, yes, I promise!”
Already the boat was moving away. Anna sat down by the edge of the water, listening to the quiet plip-plop of the oars fading into the distance, until there was only the soft wash of ripples on the shore.
What a wonderful evening it had been! She was sure she would never be able to sleep tonight. It seemed absurd to go back to the cottage and lie tossing and turning on her bed with all those magical sights and sounds still going on in her head. The night air seemed full of them still – the tinkle of the piano, the bursts of laughter, glowing colours and the sparkle of jewels, Marnie’s voice, the flick of her white sash as she ran ahead down the dark passage…
But even as she sat there, dreaming about it, the music faded, the merry grown-ups in their gold-braided uniforms and bright dresses drifted away like ghosts… She laid her head on her knee. A wandering night breeze lifted her hair and cooled her hot cheeks.
“Hello – hello! What have we got here?”
Anna woke with a jump to find three large figures standing over her, talking loudly.
“Well, bless my soul if it ain’t the little-old-girl from up at Peggs’!”
“That’s a strange place for a little lass to be sitting in the middle of the night!”
She jumped to her feet quickly.
“There now, love, it’s only us – Mr and Mrs Beales from up at The Cobbles. Come you back home along of us; we go right by yours. I should think Mrs Pegg’ll be wondering where you’ve got to, won’t she?” A large warm arm, round and solid as a bolster, went round Anna’s shoulders and she found herself being led up the road between the three of them. “Are you all right, love?” Mrs Beales sounded concerned. “Mercy me, your poor little old feet! Where’s your shoes, then?”
“I’m carrying them, thank you,” said Anna stiffly. “I like walking with bare feet. I’m only hobbling because I’ve been sitting still. Is it – is it very late?”
“Quite late enough, I’m thinking,” said Mrs Beales, adding over Anna’s head to her friend, “I can’t think what Susan Pegg’s dreaming of – at this time of night! My Sharon’s been in bed these last four or five hours. But there, Susan Pegg don’t know a thing about children – never had none of her own, you see.” She bent down to Anna and shouted consolingly, “I’ll tell you what, love, if ever you feels lonely of an evening you could always come up to ours and have a look at telly. Young Sandra-up-at-the-Corner often do, when her mum’s out at committees and such. Would you like t
hat, now?”
Anna thanked her and thought she would hate it, but did not say so.
Mrs Pegg was at the cottage door, putting out the milk bottles. She looked astonished when she saw Anna.
“Lordsakes, I thought you was in bed this long while!” she exclaimed. “And Mary Beales – and Ethel – and Mr Beales! Good evening all. And what’s to do with our Anna for goodness sake?”
“Down by the creek she was, fast asleep, as true as we’re standing here – warn’t she, Ethel? We’d been up to Whist Drive and popped in to Alice on the way back, and come round home by way of the staithe for a breath of air, and there she was as—”
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.
Chapter Fifteen
“LOOK OUT FOR ME AGAIN!”
ANNA 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 spla
sh 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.”
When Marnie Was There Page 7
