When Marnie Was There by Joan G. Robinson Page A

winter coat cost a lot, and things like that. And all she said was that they liked to do it and I wasn’t to worry, and if it was because I’d heardher saying they were hard up I wasn’t to take it seriously. Everyone said they were hard up and it didn’t mean anything.”
    She paused for breath, then went on quickly, “So I kept on asking questions about money and how much things cost, and things like that. I tried and tried. I gave her every chance I could to tell me. But she wouldn’t. She just kept on saying she loved me and I wasn’t to worry. Then afterwards – when I went to look – the letter had gone. She’d hidden it. So then I knew it was true.”
    Marnie was thinking seriously. “ Does that mean she doesn’t love you, though?”
    “I think in a way she does, sort of,” said Anna, trying to be fair. “But you can see the difference, can’t you? How would you like to have someone paid to love you? Anyway, after that, I think she guessed that I knew. She kept looking at me as if she was worried, and wanting to know why I was always asking questions about money. And she kept trying to do things to please me. But it wasn’t the same then – it couldn’t be.”
    Marnie had an idea. “Why don’t you ask Miss Hannay?”
    “Oh, no!” Anna looked shocked. “That would be mean. Anyway I couldn’t talk to her about it, I hardly know her. She knows all about me, but I don’t know anything about her, not really. It would have been mean to ask her behind their backs. Anyway I knew already. I didn’t need her to tell me what I’d found out for myself. But—” her voice brokesuddenly and a tear trickled down the side of her nose, “I did so wish she’d told me herself. I gave her such a lot of chances.”
    Marnie moved nearer and touched her hair. “Dear Anna, I love you more than any girl I’ve ever known.” She wiped the tear away and said, suddenly merry again, “There! Does that make you feel better?”
    Anna smiled. Yes, she did feel better. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her. Running back across the fields with Marnie, she felt as light as air. And even when Marnie had left her, and she was running home alone with the mushrooms, her face kept breaking into a smile for the pure joy of it.
    On the corner she saw Sandra standing with two or three other children.
    “Daft thing! Daft thing!” Sandra called when she saw Anna coming. “My mum says she’s daft. Talks to herself, on the beach, she does. And frightened my little cousin ever so, when he wasn’t doing nothing. Rushed up to him on the marsh, she did. My auntie said she looked fair daft, running like mad.” She turned to a little boy in a blue plastic mackintosh who was standing beside her. “That’s the girl, ain’t it, Nigel?” He nodded his head solemnly. But Anna ran on, hardly noticing.
    As she turned into the lane she could still hear Sandra calling after her, “Daft thing! Daft thing!” but she did not mind enough even to feel angry.



Chapter Seventeen
T HE L UCKIEST G IRL IN THE W ORLD
    A NNA AND M ARNIE met nearly every day now. They met on the beach, in the sandhills, and once they went mushrooming again in the early morning – but not in the same place. Marnie said no, she wasn’t going so near that dreary old windmill, and when Anna asked her why, she pretended not to hear and raced on ahead.
    As they crawled through the sandhills, searching for rabbits, or ran along the hard sand at low tide, they learneda lot about each other. Anna told Marnie all about home – she still found she could never tell her about the Peggs; when she was with her she always forgot all about them – and Marnie told Anna about her parents; her father, who was in the navy and often away, and her mother – the lady in the blue dress – who was more often in London than in Little Overton. Anna learned that for most of the time Marnie was alone at The Marsh House with her nurse and the two maids, Lily and Ettie.
    “So you