Now I think I might have confused a few people along the way, and possibly myself as well 😛. There's a definite time stamp in this chapter, but I should explain that we started in the late 1960s and then back tracked to the 1940s. The main part of the story will occur in the 1970s. I'll try to date chapters from now on.

Anne

October 1962

Matthew reached for his coffee cup swirling the dregs around to catch the last of the grinds in the remaining water. He brought it to his lips but set it down again as he read a newspaper article with interest. If some good could come out of the current world situation that would be interesting.

Marilla looked up at his grunt, "what is it?"

"It's just here in the paper," Matthew said as he laid the newsheet on the table the better to see her. "they're saying maybe the Cuban crisis will increase the price of potatoes."

Marilla rolled her eyes, "for goodness sakes, Matthew. If the best angle they can come up with as the world goes up in smoke is that the price of potatoes might rise then we're in a bigger pickle than I imagined. Which fool wrote the article?"

Chastened, Matthew looked back down at the paper, "um, that Bruce Sloane."

"A Sloane, well that explains it, they're a bunch of idiots in that family. Potatoes indeed," Marilla slammed the coffee cups in the dishwasher with some fury, twirling around in haste when the strident tone of the telephone rang out across the house. Wiping her hands on her pants, she picked up the receiver and said, "Green Gables, Marilla Cuthbert speaking."

Matthew could only hear her side of the conversation and he listened intently to what she had to say. They seldom received telephone calls which was fortunate as he hated the contraption. Marilla stood twirling the phone cord in her fingers in the way that always infuriated Matthew. "Yes."

"Oh my," she covered the receiver with one hand and mouthed, "bad news," at Matthew.

"Uh huh," Marilla said to the unknown caller. "Oh dear." She blanched and turned away from Matthew, "and what about their daughter, Anne wasn't it?"

"I see."

"Yes, I understand."

"We'll be there in an hour or so." Marilla carefully placed the receiver back in its cradle and shakily drew in a deep breath as she turned around to face Matthew. "There's been an auto accident, Walter and Bertha Shirley have been killed."

"Oh no," breathed Matthew. "Don't they have a child?"

"Her name's Anne, thankfully she got out with a few minor injuries. Except now of course she is an orphan. I think we are her last living relatives," Marilla explained.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Don't go thinking we'll take her in, Marilla. What do we know about child rearing? Two old fuddy-duddys like us, never married. The last thing we need is a small child around the place and she deserves better too." Marilla nodded, she didn't always agree with everything her brother had to say, but in this instance she suspected he was right. Still as Anne's only living relatives because both Bertha and Walter had been only children; she suspected they might have some small part to play in her upbringing. "Do we know how old she is?" Matthew said interrupting her thoughts.

"Seven or eight I'd say," replied Marilla. "Though I'm just guessing. Can you recall when we went to their wedding?"

Matthew thought back to that happy winter day in an indeterminate year, shaking his head he said, "No, I remember the day, not the date."

"Hm, I'm the same. Well I said we'd go to the hospital and see her. I expect she'll be terribly shaken up, poor kid."

"Do you want me to come too?"

"Yes, you drive, I feel a bit shaky."

As it turned out Anne was eleven. Her parent's wedding day had been thirteen years earlier. Marilla and Matthew joined numerous friends on a bright winter's day to watch the happy couple celebrate their nuptials.

Walter and Bertha Shirley had met at high school. Both their fathers had died in the war and their mothers had died before their time too; Walter's had died of TB and Bertha's mother had succumbed to breast cancer when they were just young adults themselves and this provided a bond that could never be broken. They had trained as teachers though Bertha barely worked before Walter proposed. When she fell pregnant some fifteen months later their friends rejoiced. The couple were due some happiness in their lives. Anne's birth was a joy beyond reckoning. The young family had just enjoyed a picnic together for Walter's delayed birthday celebration. On the way home a drunk driver T-boned their car, spinning it out of control. The adults died instantly; Bertha when she flew through the windscreen and Walter when the steering wheel drove through his chest.

Matthew and Marilla enquired for Anne at reception and were directed to the lift to the next floor. They were introduced to a social worker who took them to meet Anne. Curled up in an uncomfortable chair old tears stained Anne's cheeks, matted red hair surrounded her face. The social worker, Miss Bartrop told them to take it slowly. Marilla and Matthew hovered in the doorway while she knelt down and touched Anne on the knee. They couldn't make out what she said, but they smiled when Anne looked up at them with large grey mournful eyes nestled in her freckled face. Miss Bartrop looked over her shoulder at them and explained, "I told her that you were related." She turned back to Anne, "do you remember these folks?" Anne shook her head.

"You were just a little girl last time we met. I'd be surprised if you remembered us. You may call me Marilla, and this is my brother, Matthew." Anne made no move except to look back at Miss Bartrop blankly. Marilla gestured to Matthew and together they sat down on chairs that looked more comfortable than they were, expecting to sink into soft cushions and being rebuffed by hard ones. They chatted with Anne for a few moments until Miss Bartrop asked Marilla to come out to the hallway with her. Marilla looked back at Matthew nodding her head in Anne's direction.

Matthew watched the ladies leave and turned to Anne hesitantly. He had little experience talking to children. Although he had been reluctant to take Anne on his heart was moved by the sight of her curled up in the uncomfortable chair all on her own. Gently he started talking; he described where they lived, the little house, its whimsical name and the way it nestled into its surroundings. "There's even a little brook running through it, I used to love paddling in it when I was a boy. I grew up there, I've lived in Green Gables all my life," he explained. "Do you think you'd like to see it? I, er we can take you there now if you want." Anne's eyes were rather glazed as he talked, but he plunged on regardless.

Anne was reluctant to go anywhere with these strangers. She wanted her mama, but the other lady had told her that Mama had died in the accident. Anne had been sitting in the back seat not paying the road much attention. She had a book… Her book. Where was her book? She started looking around frantically, twisting and turning in her chair. Mama hated it when she lost things and now she would be in trouble for losing it and she had been loving it so. "My book," she whispered.

"Eh, what's that?" Matthew asked.

"I lost my book, Mama will be cross with me," Anne broke down in frantic sobs and at the sound of her growing distress the ladies returned to the room. Miss Bartrop knelt down in front of Anne muttering, "shock" over her shoulder. "Anne it's all right, we can buy you another copy of the book. What was it called?"

"It was, it was," Anne hiccupped, "Sajo and her Beaver People.* I'd just got to the part where Sajo's father had to sell Chikanee. It was so sad and and I was reading it when when…" Anne stopped then, no more words could come out.

"It sounds very sad, Anne. I'm sure we can find you a new book and you can find out what happens to the beaver. Don't worry about it." Marilla reassured her.

"Maybe the book is still in the car," Anne sprang to her feet determined to find it.

"Woah, there," Miss Bartrop caught her as she rushed past. "I'm afraid you can't go to the car just now."

"But I have to, I just have to get the book. Mama hates it when I lose things, she gets so upset with me. I get lost in daydreams sometimes and I forget where I put things, it drives her crazy. I know where the book is. I should have picked it up when I was taken out, but I forgo-ot and now, and now," Anne's face crumpled into tears as a wave of realisation swept over her. Inconsolably she sobbed on Miss Bartrop's shoulder. Marilla bobbed down in front of Anne and rubbed her knee, "it's alright darling Mama would understand, she won't be cross. We can get you a new copy of the book and I'll read it to you, would you like that?"

"I'm not a baby, I can read it myself," Anne spat back at her.

"Of course you can, I understand that you're old enough, but sometimes it's nice to have someone read to you, even when you're big. Our father used to read to us both, didn't he?"

Marilla looked across at Matthew who nodded back, "yes it was one of my favourite things. We used to sit on either side of him, didn't we? After our bath, Marilla."

"Mm, hm," Marilla agreed. "And he'd read all sorts of books to us. Mama too. Do you think you'd like that, Anne?"

Anne was silent, it was like they were all in some big conspiracy against her, like they were going to hide her from her parents and turn her back into a baby. But no, the lady said her mama and papa were dead, she kept forgetting.

Matthew watched emotions play over Anne's face, each time she remembered what had happened her face would fall. It broke Matthew's heart. It had been desperately sad when their folks died a few years back. Mama was closely followed by Papa; but at least they had a good life and Marilla and Matthew were able to fend for themselves. But this poor little mite was all alone. Well not all alone if Matthew had anything to do about it.

While Anne was being cared for by Miss Bartrop another social worker collected Marilla and Matthew and asked them to go with her for a moment. She sat them down around a nondescript round grey table in another room and put her file down as she asked, "now I'd like to know what we should do with Anne. I completely understand if you can't take her in. She can go into foster care until we find someone who can adopt her. It's not common, but it does happen, or…"

Marilla was nodding along, but to her surprise Matthew interrupted, "we'll take her. She can come and live with us."

The social worker was surprised, but delighted, "if you're sure, Mr Cuthbert."

"I am, I hope you don't mind Marilla. I just couldn't leave that little girl to the mercy of the state system. We're all she has now."

"Would you give us a moment, please," Marilla asked the social worker. She nodded, took up her manila folder and left them to it.

"Matthew Cuthbert, what are you saying?" Marilla swivelled around towards him in confusion.

"I think we need to keep her, she's a smart little thing and all alone. I couldn't in good conscience leave her here, or anywhere really."

"But you said, you said we don't know anything about child rearing and for once brother I agreed with you."

"I changed my mind as soon as I saw her. She needs us Marilla."

"But what good would she be to us?" Marilla questioned Matthew abruptly.

"We might be some good to her," said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.

"Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child has bewitched you! I can see plain as plain that you want to keep her."

Matthew nodded emphatically, "and if she has, so what? She's our kin Marilla."

Marilla huffed, but had no comeback to that, she opened and closed her mouth a few times, but he was right. Anne was kin and it was their duty to look after her as inexperienced as they were. She stuck her head out the door and looked for the social worker who put down her coffee as soon as she saw Marilla, "everything sorted?" she asked as she drew closer. "I am glad, we do like children to stay with family members if it's at all possible. Here are some forms to sign and some pamphlets which might help you. You can expect Anne to regress somewhat."

"Regress?" Marilla said questioningly. "Whatever do you mean?"

"It's common when children have survived a great trauma. She might go back to thumb sucking or bed wetting. I'm sure she'll act out or she may just be very quiet. It's important to let her take the lead and not fly into a temper yourself. You have to be very patient with her. And yet," the woman paused. "And yet children are very adaptable. In a few weeks she should be settling down. Still don't hesitate to reach out to here or someone closer to home if you are having problems. I'll refer your case to your local GP, Miss and Mr Cuthbert. Someone will be in touch."

They went back into the room and let Miss Bartrop ask Anne if she would be prepared to go and spend the night with Matthew and Marilla. A nurse had popped in and given Anne one of the teddy-bears they used as comfort toys for children. Despite her brave words Anne looked very young as she stood in the little cotton dress they had found her. A butterfly bandage across her left eyebrow was her only visible injury and the teddy was tightly clasped in her arms. Anne cast her big grey eyes, now red from crying up at them both and slowly nodded. Matthew held out his hand and asked if he could carry her. That sounded nice actually, all of a sudden Anne was desperately tired. She nodded and let him scoop her up into his strong arms. She nestled against his chest inhaling his earthy scent, so different to her papa's but comforting all the same.

Matthew bundled Anne between them in the car, her legs dangling down the seat. "We have a bit of a drive now Anne," Marilla advised. Anne yawned mightily and snuggled against Marilla's side. Marilla instinctively reached around Anne's slight body and hugged her close. The drive home was mostly silent as Anne fell asleep almost at once. Marilla scooped Anne into her arms and sat with her on her lap, Anne's head against her chest. Matthew glanced across at Marilla now and again, but for the most part kept his eyes on the road. After the tragic events of the day it seemed especially important to concentrate.

"Anne," Marilla stroked her face, lifting a stray strand of hair away, "we're here. We're home, welcome to Green Gables." Anne woke up groggily at first then with a start as she forgot why she was in an unknown car with two strangers. She stiffened and scrambled off Marilla's lap looking up at her in alarm.

"Sh darling, you're safe. I'm Marilla and this is Matthew. We're going to look after you, remember?"

At her words, Anne remembered why she was there and the devastating knowledge that her parents had died, flooded back. Miss Bartrop had warned them that it would happen this way that she would most likely momentarily forget and be upset when she remembered. Marilla reached out a hand to her, but Anne cringed away, her face wet from tears and snot. Marilla looked up at Matthew, with concern in her eyes unsure of what to do.

* This was one of my favourite books growing up. Sajo and her Beaver People (1935) follows the story of a young Ojibwe girl and her pet orphaned beavers. It was written by Grey Owl, purportedly an indigenous author, but it later transpired he was born in England but lived with First Nation people most of his life.