When Marnie Was There

Mrs Lindsay was just bringing in the tea things when Anna came in at the side door. She looked horrified when she saw her.

“For goodness’ sake!” she exclaimed. “You’re drenched! What have you been up to? Have you been outside in all this?”

“Yes,” said Anna, and she laughed. “But I’m inside now!”

“I should jolly well think you are,” said Mrs Lindsay, looking at the trail of rainwater and wet footprints on the floor. And—as she said to her husband later, she hadn’t the heart to scold her, she looked so absurdly happy.

“There was another thing,” Mrs Lindsay told him. “The children were talking about Marnie when she came in—they just can’t get over that story—and Matt was talking in his usual tactless way, saying something about it being sad for Anna, not having known her. And do you know what the child said? She said, ‘I did know her once.’ Quite definitely, just like that. Well, so she did, of course—when she was very little. But it was funny—she actually laughed when she said it, just as if she really remembered her.”

This concludes the reality of Marnie