(BEWARE OF SOME ERRORS)
I met Marni on an errand. The encounter hadn't been anything special, but I don't think I'll ever forget. It was her eyes I first noticed. They were bright with hope, glistening with spirit, soft as a moonlights glow. Such eyes you can't take yours off. I certainly can't. This always makes her blush. Mrs Lu would frown at the both of us. "Don't you two go making eyes at each other, you're both far too young for any of that talk!" She'd scold. First thing you'd probably notice about her is her unkept fiery locks. They overflowed out the top of her head like an eruption of red curls. It was never tidy, never neat, yet always so. Lovable.
"Have you come to take my protégé away from me then? Just as well," Mrs Lu sniffed, "she's been getting on my nerves!" She turned to look at Marni. "Haven't you Marni-Sue!" Marni grinned mischievously and produced her infamous slab of blackboard and white chalk. Marni scribbled. 'I'll drive you loony' She wrote. Marni grinned proudly at her aunt. I struggled not to snigger. "The cheek!" Mrs Lu gasped, though she was only teasing, "Off with you two then! Don't you forget my sourdough bread Marni-Sue! And the change mind!" Marni assured her aunt that she'd never do such a thing, even adding an illustration of a smiley Marni at the end of her sentence. When Mrs Lu finally let Marni and I leave, Marni stuck her tongue at her aunt from behind the door and grunted.
"What's bothering you Marni?" I asked as we trudged slowly through the village. Marni removed her chalk board hanging around her neck and wrote: 'I hate it when she calls me Marni-Sue. I'm Marni, only Marni."
"Well," I sighed, "I suppose that's just the way she is. She's always calling me Peter Bunting; everyone knows I'm only Peter! She's peculiar that aunt of yours."
Marni shrugged and erased her board. 'Where today Peter?" She wrote.
"I don't know. We seemed to have discovered every inch of our side of the village."
'I bet it would be much more exciting on the other side of the village.'
"Don't even dream of it Marni. Think of another idea."
Marni bit her lip deep in thought, then grinned impishly. Whenever I saw her famous grin, I knew trouble was lurking closely behind. It was like a curse. Every time Marni grinned, I'd always somehow get into trouble. Yet, every time I saw this same smile, I always agreed to do whatever Marni wanted. It was like she'd put me under some sort of spell.
"I can't stand it when you grin like that Marni." I sighed. "Who's the victim this time, Mr Mortimer I suppose?"
Marni shook her head giggling.
"Mrs Hearty?"
Marni shook her head again, her ginger locks swinging round her head like a rope.
"I give up guessing, go on tell me!"
Marni ceased walking and began scribbling on the blackboard again, holding the white chalk tightly in her freckled hands. 'Mrs Wormwood.'
I frowned at Marni. Mrs Agatha Wormwood was a widowed woman who was feared by many of the villagers. Especially the children. If Mrs Wormwood ever even smelt you near her precious flower bed, she'd wallop you with a long wooden ruler we called 'Mrs Slapwood.' Mrs Wormwood said if we got too close to her flowers, we'd infect her 'babies' with our ill manners. After her husband's passing, Mrs Wormwood left her job teaching in the village school and stayed home. Mrs Wormwood spent her days in her thatched cottage carving wood into dolls and sewing them dinky dresses. She sold them in the village square on a Saturday to anyone that dared step close to her stall. I never understood why she'd want to sell to children if she despised them so. I suppose she had nothing better to do.
