When Marnie Was There (17 page)

More surprising still – all the windows were open. The frames had been newly painted, and the sound of hammering was coming from one of the upper rooms.
Beside the front door, also half open, a crimson rose bush sprawled up the wall and hung in clusters over the porch.

As she stood there, staring, a workman came round the side of the house carrying a ladder over his shoulder. Before she had time to run, he had seen her and called out, “Who was you wanting to see? They ain’t here yet.”

Anna stood with her mouth open, unable to find an answer.

The man laid down the ladder and came nearer. “What is it, love?” he asked jokingly. “Ain’t you ever see’d a man with a ladder before?” He jerked his head back towards the house. “Cleaning up the old place a bit, that’s what we’re doing. Did you wonder what all the banging was? That’s the carpenter, that is, mending holes in the floorboards and suchlike.”

He paused and looked at her more closely. “Why, ain’t you the little-old-girl from up at Peggs’? My, but ain’t you growed! You’re twice the size you was when last I see’d you.”

“Yes,” said Anna. “I was in bed, and you always grow a lot then.”

“Oh, ah! Of course.” The man nodded his head slowly. “You was nearly drownded, wasn’t you?” He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “I heared about that. Well, maybe things’ll be a bit more lively for you soon, when the family comes down.”

“What family?” Anna faltered.

“The family what’s bought the old place. That’s why we’re doing it up. Nice people they are. A Mr Lindsay and his wife. They come down and looked at it Easter time. Said it was just the thing.”

Anna said, in a small, uncertain voice, “What – do you know what happened to the other family?”

The man looked blank. “Which family was that?”

“The one that used to be here?” Her voice had grown even more uncertain.

The man shook his head. “There wasn’t no other family that I ever heard of. Not since my time, any road. But I ain’t been in Overton all that long.”

“Oh.Thank you.”

The man moved back towards the house, and Anna walked slowly away. At the bend in the drive she looked back.

Two sides of the same house… One facing out on to the main road, the other looking back over the water… And so strongly had she been attracted to the backward-looking side that she had even, for a while, mistaken it for the front. She wondered how she could have been so silly. But then, the gates had always been closed before, so how could she have known?

She heard the sudden sound of a car turning in at the entrance, and darted in among the dark yew trees. An old packing case lay there, rotting on the ground, and she ducked down behind it until the car had passed. She heard
the car draw up to the front door and the engine stop, then she slipped round the back of the packing case and out on to the drive.

She gave a quick backward glance as she ran towards the gates, and saw that it was not a packing case after all. It was an ancient dog kennel lying rotting on its side.

A
NNA STOOD IN
the sandhills and stared. In the distance, on the stretch of sand that led across to the marsh, she was sure she had just seen five small, dark figures. They were running, jumping, separating, then joining together again, and growing smaller every minute.

She stood staring until the sun in her eyes forced her to look away for a moment. When she looked back they were gone.

She turned away. For a moment she had been quite startled. Those five small figures reminded her of the imaginary family
she had once thought lived in The Marsh House. But that had been before she met Marnie. Now she knew better.

She lay down on her back in a hollow, feeling suddenly lonely, and wept for Marnie. The sad, long-ago sound of the gulls crying in the distance brought real tears now, and they fell from the corners of her eyes, trickling down the sides of her neck and wetting her hair before they sank into the sand.

But even as she wept, a new and delicious sadness was creeping over her. The sadness one feels for something enjoyed and now over, rather than for something lost and never found again. A sandpiper flew overhead calling, “Pity me!” but its cry was now like a little lament for Marnie rather than an empty pity for herself.

Comforted by her own tears, she lay there until the sun had dried them, then she rolled over and ate a ginger biscuit that had fallen from her pocket into the sand. She ruffled the back of her hair and let the sun dry that too.

Soon she heard children’s voices, and got up. Now, halfway through July, the beach was no longer her own. Small children came searching for crabs among the rocks, and scattered in the sandhills family parties sat picnicking, invisible until one stumbled upon them, but clearly audible when the wind was in the right direction. Lunch-time was over, soon more people would be coming down to the beach.

She climbed to the highest point of the dunes, and shading her eyes with her hand, looked again across the stretch of sand towards the marsh.

Yes, there they were again. It was quite extraordinary. Five small, dark figures – coming nearer this time – hopping, running, zig-zagging across the sands towards the sea. Five dark figures in navy blue jeans and jerseys. This was what she had been half expecting, half fearing to see.

They were not real. She knew that. No-one in the village had ever seen that imaginary family of hers. She had asked Mrs Pegg again, and Mrs Pegg had said no, even Miss Manders hadn’t seen them – she’d asked her specially – and Miss Manders knew everybody.

Anna stood looking for one more minute, then moved down into another hollow, and put them out of her mind. She was not going to be trapped into believing they were real just because she kept thinking she saw them. But a few moments later, hearing voices again, she peeped over the tops of the grasses and saw that they were coming nearer. They were winding their way through the sandhills straight towards her.

She leapt up and ran full tilt down the slope into a smaller, deeper hollow, and waited. When she lifted her head and looked round again, there was no sign of them anywhere.

But going home in the late afternoon, she saw them again. She was walking back along the bed of the creek, paddling through the shallows as the tide was low, when, looking over towards the marsh, she saw the five small, dark figures silhouetted against the sky, walking in single file along a raised bank. She stood and stared. And at that
moment, the one at the end, lagging a little behind the others, turned and looked straight towards her, then stopped dead.

Anna ran, but not before she had time to see the same small figure turn sideways and start plunging at a right angle across the marsh, down towards the place where, only a moment ago, she herself had been standing. She hid under the bank at the edge of the marsh and worked her way backwards in a crouching position. Then, having rounded the bend in the creek, she sat down under the bank for at least ten minutes.

When she crept cautiously out again there was no-one to be seen.

Next day the same thing happened again. She saw them, ran from them, then saw them again. It was the same the day after, and the day after that. It became like a game, seeing them without being seen, and gradually it developed into a chase.

They had seen her, she was sure. One in particular, a girl with long brown hair, neither the oldest nor the youngest, always seemed to catch sight of her even when the others did not. She would stop and look back, scanning the sandhills as if actually searching for her. And Anna, if she had grown bold too soon, would be caught out on hands and knees, looking over the top of her hollow, watching them go away. She always ducked down quickly, but she had an idea the brown-haired girl saw her every time.

She grew to know them by sight. There was a big boy of about fourteen, probably the oldest, then a fair-haired girl with plaits, then the long brown-haired girl. She looked a little younger than Anna. Then there was another boy, perhaps seven or eight, and a little one, almost a baby.

The girl with the plaits was often with the youngest, holding his hand or carrying him through the shallows. Then the two boys would be together and the brown-haired girl would be on her own. Or sometimes the two oldest would pair off and the two younger ones be together. But whichever way it was, the brown-haired one would, more often than not, be separated a little from the others, either trailing behind or dancing along on her own.

She is the one I would like best, thought Anna, although she’s younger than me. The older one looks too sensible and grown-up, though she’s awfully kind to the baby. Then she would shake herself, realising she was thinking of them as real people. And they could not be real. She herself had imagined them in the beginning, before she had even met Marnie, and no-one else had ever seen them.

But real or not, they continued to be there and, in spite of herself, Anna found it exciting. She took to skirting the edge of the dunes rather than crossing an empty stretch of beach, feeling that if she went out in the open, five pairs of eyes might be watching her from the sandhills. She went down to the beach earlier in the mornings and watched from the topmost point of the sandhills so that she could
see them crossing the marsh. One day, to her horror, she found they had come by boat when she was not looking, and before she knew it they were almost upon her, coming up from behind.

She ran, her heart thumping, and escaped them again. She had the advantage of them, knowing all the dips and hollows of the sandhills by heart, but that had been a near thing.

It was like being chased by your own imagination, she thought, as she lay panting in a hollow. But what of that? They were not bogeys. And yet she was half frightened of the chase. It was an exciting game, until she was in danger of being caught. Then she ran in panic as if she were a wild animal being hunted.

She peered through the marram grass and saw them moving away in the opposite direction. Immediately, instead of relief, she felt disappointment.

She came out and sat deliberately in the open, knowing that if they turned round they would see her at once. It was an exciting risk that she had to take even though her heart was in her mouth. Then the very thing she feared, and yet courted, happened. They did turn round. She heard one of them shout, “There she is!” and they began running towards her. But now she was unable to move! She felt as if she were rooted in the sand. And every second they were coming nearer! Then, when it was almost too late, she found her legs again. She sprang up and ran like the wind, away over
the dunes until she had nearly reached the far end where the hillocks levelled out and became flat sand. She plunged headlong into the last remaining hollow and burrowed her way down into the fine, warm sand.

Her heart was thumping in her ears and she was trembling with excitement. Don’t let them catch me! she kept saying, over and over in her head. Don’t let them catch me! Still gasping for breath, she divided the grasses and peeped out. Everything was still. The sea showing between the grass stalks was a deep, deep blue. A drowsy peace had settled over everything.

Then the peace was shattered. There was a sudden scrambling noise, a shout of triumph, and five figures rose up out of the grasses all around her. She was surrounded!

“Got you!” one of them shouted, and her ankle was seized in a strong, warm hand.