Джоан Робинсон - When Marnie Was There

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…

Chapter Ten

P

ICKLED

S

AMPHIRE

AT 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.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” the girl said. “Jump in quick and we’ll go for a row.”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” said Anna.

“I know. I forgot about the tide being later. I couldn’t come the other way, they’d have seen me go past the windows.”

She turned the boat and pulled away from the shore, upstream.