Джоан Робинсон - When Marnie Was There

Chapter Fourteen

A

FTER THE

P

ARTY

“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 that, 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.