When Marnie Was There by Joan G. Robinson

“At least, she is. I don’t see him very much, he’s always busy, but I think he’s kind too. He’s quite nice.”
    “But what happened to your real parents?”
    “My father went away – I don’t know where – and my mother married someone else,” Anna’s voice was flat and monotonous – “and then they went away on a holiday – and I was staying with my granny – and they got killed in a car accident.”
    “Oh, poor you!” Marnie was suddenly sympathetic. “How dreadful for you. Did you go into mourning? Did you mind terribly?”
    “No, I didn’t mind at all. I don’t even remember it. I told you, I was living with my granny…”
    “Go on.”
    “Well, then she died,” said Anna flatly.
    “Oh, but why?”
    Anna shrugged and pulled up another long grass, biting it between her teeth. “How should I know? She went away to some place because she said she wasn’t very well, and she promised to come back soon, but she didn’t. She died instead, at least that’s what Miss Hannay said.”
    “Who’s Miss Hannay?”
    “A lady who comes to see me sometimes. At least, she comes to see Mrs Preston and talk about me. It’s her job, you see, to go and see children who’re sort of adopted like I am. She has to see me, too, and she asks about school and things. She’s quite nice, but I never know what to say to her. I did ask her once about Granny – because I sort of remembered her – and she said she’d died.” She paused, then added defiantly, “So what! Who cares?”
    Marnie looked shocked. “But didn’t you love her?”
    Anna was silent for a moment, frowning at the ground. Then she blurted out sullenly, “No, I hate her. And I hate my mother. I hate them all. That’s the thing…”
    Marnie looked at her with puzzled eyes. “But your mother couldn’t help being killed,” she said.
    Anna looked surly. “She left me before she was killed,” she said defensively, “to go away on a holiday.”
    “And your granny couldn’t help dying,” said Marnie, still being reasonable.
    “She left me, too,” Anna insisted. “She went away. And she promised to come back and she didn’t.” She gave a dry little sob, then said angrily, “I hate her for leaving me all alone, and not staying to look after me. It wasn’t fair of her to leave me – I’ll never forgive her. I hate her.”
    Marnie said, trying to comfort her, “In a way I think you’re lucky to be sort of adopted. I’ve often thought, secretly, that I’m adopted – don’t tell, will you? – and in a way I wish I was. That would prove how terribly kind mymother and father are, to have adopted me when I was a poor little orphan baby with no-one to look after me.”
    It was Anna’s turn to be surprised. “I should have thought anyone would rather have their own mother and father – if they knew them,” she said, turning over another secret trouble in her mind. She looked at Marnie thoughtfully. “If I tell you a deep secret will you promise never to tell?”
    “Of course! We’re telling secrets all the time, aren’t we? I wouldn’t dream of telling.”
    “Well, it’s about Mr and Mrs Preston. I told you they’re kind to me, and they are, but I thought they looked after me and everything because they – well, because I was like their own child, but I found out a little while ago—” she lowered her voice almost to a whisper, “ they’re paid to do it. ”
    “Oh, no!” Marnie’s eyes grew wide. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
    “I found a letter, it was in the sideboard drawer. It was a printed letter and it was something about how the council was going to increase the allowance for me, and there was a cheque inside as well.”
    “Oh!” Marnie breathed. “What ever did you do?”
    “When she came home I tried to ask her about it. I couldn’t say I’d read the letter, at least I didn’t want to. Anyway I wanted to ask her first. So I said didn’t it cost an awful lot to feed me, and hadn’t my new