Thanks for your help Annegirls. I got lots of advice on this chapter.

Barbie vs Mitzi

It was an adjustment thought Marilla as she slung another pair of Anne's muddy dungarees into the washing machine. Turning the knob, she listened to the water flow into the machine with relief. The machine could be temperamental, but since Matthew had repaired it last time it was working fine.

Parenthood had bypassed Marilla and Matthew up until now and they found it a challenge. Yet Anne was a sweet little thing and they enjoyed having her around. Naturally she was desperately sad to lose her parents and they gently guided her through the grieving process, ably assisted by their neighbours and the social workers who came to visit occasionally.

Initially Anne seemed to settle down quite easily, but the social worker, Miss Bartrop warned that she would probably suffer a set back at some point. As it was it took a week, one day Anne wouldn't get out of bed. Marilla called her to her that breakfast was ready and when those little red braids never appeared in the kitchen, she went upstairs to investigate. Anne was sitting by her bed, her teddy bear clutched in her arms tears flowing silently down her cheeks. Marilla sat down beside her and let the little girl pour out her emotion. Eventually Anne was able to stammer out that she had wet the bed. "I haven't done that since I was a little girl, Marilla. I'm sorry."

"Darling, it's no bother at all, we can wash those sheets without a problem. Is that what you're upset about? You don't have to cry about wet sheets," Marilla said soothingly.

"No, not really it's just, well it's just I never got to say goodbye."

"To your parents?"

"Mm hm," Anne nodded. "We always said goodbye even if we were just going out to the shops. We'd say, 'goodbye, love you lots,' it was our thing. And I never…" she trailed off tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, Anne," Marilla drew her into her lap so that she sat there not really fitting."

"And it was all my fault," Anne added miserably.

"What was your fault?"

"I was being a bit silly in the car, annoying Daddy and then we had the accident. So, I k-k-killed them," Anne burrowed her head into Marilla's shoulder filled with utter remorse.

Marilla stroked her back, "darling I'm sure that wasn't how it happened. Do you want me to talk to the police constable about the particulars?"

Unable to articulate anything at that point, Anne nodded into Marilla's shoulder.

A while later Anne helped Marilla strip the bed and they remade it with fresh sheets. "Do you want to get up, or sleep a bit more?" Marilla asked gently.

"I'm a bit hungry, can I get up?"

"Breakfast is downstairs although I'll have to get you some more cereal it'll be soggy."

"I'm sorry," Anne said, genuinely contrite.

Marilla gave her a small smile, "doesn't matter at all."

Later that morning Marilla had a cigarette to help her think. She hoped what Anne had said wasn't true, not that anyone could have told anyway. Still if the police had any insight, she hoped it would help settle Anne's guilty conscience. She supposed she should have got the particulars at the time, but they were so busy looking after the child they forgot to ask. The police had only told them the basics.

Matthew came in for afternoon tea first. Marilla filled him in on her morning's work.

"How do you think she'll react?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think she deserves the truth, don't you? Or at least a version of it at this stage."

Matthew nodded as he watched Marilla pull a packet of turnover cookies from the pantry. "None for me?" he smiled.

"Hush, of course you can have some," Marilla replied slightly guiltily. It was true their diet had changed since Anne arrived.

When Anne came in, she frowned momentarily. "Don't you like them?" Marilla asked.

"No, no they're fine. They're just, I dunno," Anne trailed off, unwilling to offend Marilla who after had all been so kind to take her in.

"Tell me. If you don't like them, I'll buy something else next time."

"They're an old lady cookie, I guess," Anne explained glancing at them both.

"They're what? Um, what would you prefer then?"

Anne thought for a moment, here was her chance. They usually had peak freens at home and she didn't like them much either. She far preferred the more expensive maple leaf cookies, but that might be a bit of a stretch and could she really manipulate the Cuthberts in that manner?

Marilla watched interested in her indecision, "you can choose whatever you like, Anne."

"Maple leaf cookies," Anne blurted out. She felt she had to make a decision on the spot and since they were on her mind, that was the first thing she said.

Marilla's eyebrows raised in shock the cookies were a bit more costly than most, but it was a small price to pay to make Anne as happy as possible under the circumstances. Anne reached out for an unloved turnover and chewed on it thoughtfully while Marilla sipped her tea. "Anne," Marilla said as she chewed her first turnover. "I spoke to the police after lunch."

Anne's arm was outreached for another, but stopped when she heard Marilla's statement, "oh?".

"Yes, they put me through to the detective straightaway. I explained who I was, and he offered his condolences," Marilla said gently. "I told him about your concerns, and he said that your father was not at fault. There was another driver who ran into your car."

"Damned idiot," Matthew interjected.

"Yes, so you weren't at fault," continued Marilla above him. "It had nothing to do with you, you mustn't feel guilty. It was just a terrible thing to happen.

"May I be excused?" Anne asked. She needed time to think.

"Of course, you may, Anne," they watched her sadly walk up the stairs.

There was a pause then Matthew said, "so they going to sue the other guy?"

"He said the case is being prepared. I told him Anne wouldn't be giving evidence and he agreed. She's too young and has been traumatised enough as it is," Marilla replied.

"Do we need to go to court?"

"I doubt it. I hope not," Marilla said thoughtfully.

"I might go up and check on her," Matthew said glancing at the ceiling.

"Yes, that would be nice," she pointed at the plate and Matthew took it with him.

Marilla heard him walk up the stairs and sighed, was parenthood always such an emotional rollercoaster?

Six months later Anne was mostly over her nightmares. Marilla actually missed finding a small person in her bed. The first time it happened she had been surprised to find a small body pressed up against her back when she turned over semi-awake at some time in the wee smas. Anne's hair tickled her nose and she woke up suddenly, initially a little upset. As soon as she worked out what was happening, she reached out around Anne's warm body and hugged her close. Anne explained in the morning that she had had a nightmare and was too frightened to sleep alone in her little gabled bedroom. How could Marilla be cross after that explanation? It became a fairly regular occurrence not every night but several times a week she'd find herself hugging the little girl close.

Anne's dreams were vivid and upsetting; she'd be talking with her parents and suddenly they'd disappear for no reason, just poof gone. She'd run around frantically looking for them, but they'd have gone forever, and she would wake up in tears. Or sometimes it was a monster who came and ate them; sometimes a fire would be licking at her heels and she'd try to save them. The sad thing Anne explained, was that she never remembered they had died when she saw them, so she never made the fuss of them she wanted to while she was awake.

"Anne!" Marilla called up the stairs. "Time for breakfast." Anne preferred pancakes to toast and while it was more work Marilla was happy enough to oblige. Goodness knows the child had suffered enough change in recent months. If this was enough to start her off on the right track for the day, Marilla was happy enough to make them for her. She patted her own stomach easing the waist of her pants with her thumb, it didn't do her figure much good though.

They had introduced Anne to their small community, and she made friends almost immediately with Diana Barry who lived down the road. Matthew and Marilla were pleased they knew it was one more problem to address when Anne sorrowfully mentioned that she was missing her friends from home. They encouraged her to write, but knew it was a far cry from sleepovers with friends and the normal activities children her age enjoyed.

Anne sat desultorily down at the kitchen table to write letters to her old friends one wet Tuesday afternoon her feet drumming against a chair leg. Marilla tried not to look at her with her pen poised over the paper and instead put on the kettle followed by the radio; it was time for The Young and the Irritable. Small glances Anne's way showed that there was not much progress being made until eventually Anne scraped her chair out and ran off to her room. Marilla sighed, she had been losing interest in the ridiculous goings-on on the radio show lately. Their troubles seemed so insignificant now. Frankly she was slightly embarrassed she ever let it take over her life like it had. Gulping the last of her coffee Marilla pushed off from the table with both hands and made her way up to Anne's room.

When she first arrived Anne's room was bare but they spent some time and money making it more comfortable. A trip to the store in town, perusal of a catalogue and a trip back to Anne's old home had furnished the room so that it now more closely resembled any other young girls' room. There were posters on the walls from some pop band that Anne adored. Hitherto Marilla had heard of the Beetles was it, in passing only.

Through the closed door Marilla could hear sobbing, she paused. She knew the value of a good cry but thought Anne might need some comforting. She knocked softly.

"G'way," Anne called through her sobs.

"Anne, I do understand, I just wanted you to know." There was no answer barring a fresh outbreak of sobs.

"I just don't know what to do?" Marilla blurted out to Rachel later that afternoon. "She's upset and of course I understand why. I just wish I knew what would help her."

"Now, now, I expect nothing can right now, except time. Speaking of time, I should start dinner." Rachel said glancing up the clock. Thomas would be home soon, and she was anxious to have his dinner ready. Thomas did not like to wait for his evening meal. She rubbed a fresh bruise on her arm ruefully then pulled a bag of potatoes over and started peeling. Absentmindedly Marilla joined her.

"It's not easy being twelve even with live parents and now she must feel so unstable," Marilla said thinking it through, "do you think she should go start school now or wait until after Christmas?" she carved around the curve of the tuber, dropping the peel into a pile.

Rachel placed another skinned potato into the saucepan with a satisfying plop and picked up the next while she thought the situation through, "there are pros and cons aren't there. I mean do you think she's ready for the rough and tumble of a new school? On the other hand, she might need some stimulation. What does the social worker have to say?"

"She thinks she should go. It's not just that she's missing out on her education, but she needs to get on with her life here," Marilla replied thoughtfully. "But I don't know? She's so fragile. I suppose I could talk to the school."

Carmody Elementary School received a wide range of children and was considered one of the best on the Island. Marilla stood at its entrance looking up at its high red walls; it had been decades since she had crossed the threshold. Firmly grasping her handbag, she made her way through the front door and enquired at the office. She described Anne's circumstances to the principal who agreed that it would be good to let Anne start school and assured Marilla that they would keep an eye on her. Half an hour later Anne was enrolled and would start the next week.

There were plenty of children who took the school bus from Avonlea and other nearby towns, but it was with some trepidation that Matthew and Marilla escorted her to the bus stop that Monday morning. Anne was nervous she had loved her old school, but it was quite another thing to front up to a new one where she barely knew a soul. She had begged Marilla to let her cut her despised red hair, but Marilla thought that was a terrible idea and instead they plaited so that it looked less fulsome; a compromise Anne was not particularly happy with. As she said to Marilla over breakfast that morning, she felt the other children might like her better if she were prettier, if her hair was not so outrageously red.

Diana waved to Anne from a seat near the back of the bus. Anne made her way down, clutching at the backs of the seats so as not to overbalance and plopped down next to Diana with relief. When they arrived, Diana introduced Anne to very many people. Anne tried to repeat all the names she heard, but she soon got lost. All she could remember was that there were a Josie and a Ruby and the rest was just noise.

It happened after lunch. A brown-haired boy whom Diana had introduced Anne to that morning decided to have a little fun with the new girl. Leaning over to her desk while the teacher's back was turned, he whispered, "carrots," in her ear and yanked her plait. Anne felt red hot indignation both from the slur and the hurt to her head and without thinking she swung around and hit him with her encyclopaedia. The boy staggered and fell back with a grunt. The teacher heard and turned around unbelievingly. She had been informed about Anne but could not believe she would prove to be a troublemaker so soon.

"Anne Shirley, come up here at once. I don't know what sort of behaviour is deemed acceptable in that town you called home. But here in a civilised society we do not go around hitting boys. Are you okay, Gilbert?"

Gilbert that was his name Anne thought to herself pleased she had a name for her tormenter, Diana had introduced her to a lot of people that morning and she had forgotten his name.

"I'm fine Miss. It was my fault, I teased her."

"That is hardly a justification for violence. Anne come here I want you to stand in the corner for the rest of the class. You can reflect on appropriate ways to behave in school."

When Anne arrived home, she poured the whole sorry tale out to Marilla and later Marilla recounted it to Matthew who said, "she hit a boy? Golly! Who was it?"

"Well that's the thing, you'll never guess. It was John Blythe's son, Gilbert," she explained.

"A Blythe huh," said Matthew with raised eyebrows. "She's gonna fit into this family real good then."

"Matthew!" Marilla said accusingly. "You mustn't say such things."

Christmas was coming and Marilla was keen to make it as festive as possible for Anne. It was always going to be a hard time of the year.

Anne had dropped hints about what she wanted. There was a new Barbie doll that she had played with at Diana's house. Diana had the full set; the doll, her wardrobe, her house, her car. What sort of doll had a car? thought Marilla. The only toy she didn't have was Barbie's boyfriend; Mrs Barry did not approve of the bump he had in his trousers. She thought it was too suggestive for little girls.

For her part Marilla did not approve of buying American toys in the first place and instead went looking for a nice Canadian doll. She was delighted to find just the thing. Anne would be delighted. "Look Matthew," Marilla showed him the box she had bought at Eaton's, "I even found one with red hair," she said proudly.

"Hm," said Matthew speculatively.

"Don't you like it? She's a bone fide Canadian Mitzi doll. Far superior to those repulsive Barbies she wanted. I think she'll love it."

"She looks kinda bitter*, don't you think?" Matthew commented.

Marilla turned the doll around and regarded her carefully, "I don't know what you're talking about. She looks just fine and has better proportions than that horrible American Barbie." Marilla wrapped the doll in some garish Christmas paper she had bought at the store that morning. Not that it was nice, but it always did make the house look more festive when colourful presents lay wrapped under the tree.

On Christmas Day Marilla was nearly as excited as Anne herself. They sat around the Christmas Tree handing out presents to each other. Marilla was practically bouncing with excitement when she handed her present over to Anne.

Anne took the box solemnly and felt its weight. She was pretty sure what was going to be inside and looked up at Marilla in gratitude. She had always felt a bit pathetic when they played dolls at Diana's house. The other girls bought their Barbies over to play with Diana's impressive array of Barbie peripherals. Diana's Barbie had an impressive wardrobe and the girls loved nothing other than dressing them all up. Anne always had to borrow a doll from someone lessening her pleasure. Now with a Barbie of her own she would be the equal of her friends and could throw herself into the fun.

Slowly she unwrapped the box taking pleasure in the anticipation. Marilla watched impatiently eagerly waiting for her reaction. Eventually the wrapping fell away and the Mitzi doll was there for all to see. Anne was stunned. What was this thing? This abomination. It wasn't Barbie it was it was... what on earth was it? She looked at the packaging, Mitzi!

The other week the girls had teased any poor owners of the far inferior Mitzi doll, calling them losers. Tears sprang to Anne's eyes and she looked up at Marilla in an attempt to politely say thank you. Despite her disappointment at some level she knew she still had to show her appreciation, even if she were dying inside.

It was not the reaction Marilla had been expecting, "don't you like her? Look she even has red hair like you," she pointed out. "I thought she looked perfect."

The red hair comment was too much. Didn't Marilla understand the depths of Anne's hatred of her own red hair? What made her think Anne would want a doll that looked like her? Anne threw the doll away towards the chimney and ran out of the room sobbing.

Marilla looked at Matthew in shock. She had tried so hard but somehow had got it completely wrong. Matthew just shrugged his shoulders and went to fetch more wood for the fire. Lunch was late and eaten in silence.

A week later Matthew was seen by a curious neighbour in the toy section of Eaton's nervously lurking around the doll shelves.

Anne greeted him that afternoon and made her way up to her bedroom. She had had a hard week. All her friends had shared their Christmas presents and Anne had no choice but to join in, making light of the fact that she had received the wretched Mitzi doll. When the others offered their condolences, it was almost worse. All Anne wanted was to fit in and now she felt more apart from them than ever. They lived at home with their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and Anne was stuck with two old relatives who had no understanding of what it was like to be a young girl.

Stomp, stomp, stomp Anne made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She hated it here, it was cold, damp and the pleasures of town were far away. She missed her friends she missed her parents; her life was horrible. All those thoughts were forgotten however when she spied a large package on her bed. She raced over and tore open the wrapping. Matthew stood behind her his face widely grinning. She looked back and gave him the biggest smile. Inside was Barbie, her house, a convertible car and an assortment of dresses. Best of all there was even a Ken doll. "Oh Matthew," she breathed. "It must have been so expensive."

"We just want you to be happy," Matthew said over the top of her head as they hugged each other tightly.

* Google the Mitzi Doll and tell me if you agree with Matthew.