Page 146 of The Stranger in Room Six

‘Mabel Marchmont.’

‘Can you give me your name please?’

‘Certainly. It’s Dame Frances Buss. But Mabel may remember me as Frannie.’

Part Six

107

Mabel

Mabel is sitting in her chair by the window overlooking the old croquet lawn. The sun is bright today. She can see Antonio in her mind, trimming the hedges. Feel his lips on hers.

BANG!

The gun sounds as real as if it had been shot just now. The carpet in front of her turns to lawn, her aunt’s bloodied body lying face down with the word TRAITOR on the ground next to her.

‘Stop,’ she tells herself firmly. ‘All that was years ago.’

But it’s not over, is it? It never can be.

There’s a knock on the door. Then it opens before she can reply. Mabel holds her breath. Despite her outer bravado, she’s been extremely jumpy since that horrible attack. She could have been shot. And now Harry has made it very clear that it could happen again.

A woman walks in, leaning on an ornate wooden cane. She is tall and imposing and wearing the most beautiful coat. Something about that firm nose and no-nonsense expression stirs Mabel’s memories. No. It can’t be.

‘Hello, Mabel.’

That broad Devonian accent. The slightly deeper tone.

‘Frannie,’ cries Mabel. Then she stands up, wobbles a bit, and finds herself being caught by Belinda, who sits her down gently.

‘Careful,’ says Frannie. ‘Neither of us are spring chickens now.’

‘How did you know I was here?’ asks Mabel, stunned.

‘I think half the country is aware,’ replies Frannie. ‘I’m surprised that brother of yours hasn’t moved you somewhere safe.’

‘I won’t leave my home,’ says Mabel.

‘I understand.’ Frannie’s voice goes soft. ‘I went to see our old cottage on my way here, but it had gone. There was a block of glass-fronted apartments there instead.’

‘Things have changed around here. But more importantly, how has life treated you?’ asks Mabel. At first, she’d thought Frannie didn’t look her age but now they’re close up, she can see the blue veins on her arms and swollen legs.

‘Well, thank you. I went to work as a secretary for a lawyer in London. She encouraged me to train as a barrister and eventually I became a judge, although I’m long retired now.’

‘You know,’ says Mabel slowly, ‘I was shocked when you left so suddenly. Why did you?’

Frannie’s mouth sets in a firm line. ‘For years I’d hated working for your aunt. The final straw was when I was dusting the library and came across a photograph of the Colonel and your aunt on one of Mosley’s marches.’

‘I saw it too,’ murmurs Mabel. So that’s why it had been sticking out of a book. Frannie had found it first.

‘It made me realize that I couldn’t stay in a place that was tainted by Clarissa and the Colonel, even if they were both dead. I hated the way they treated you. I knew you were helping them – I overheard about the leaflets. I was going to turn you in, to be honest. But my mother stopped me. She said you were just a young girl who didn’t know what she was doing and that you were being groomed by that pair. You were desperate for love and you thought they were giving it.’

‘The trouble is,’ says Mabel sadly, ‘that the newspapers and the public don’t seem to believe that.’

‘That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to boast, Mabel, but my word carries weight now. I have several contacts including the editor of a well-known national newspaper. What do you think about me going on record to say that, in my view, you were an innocent pawn in their wicked game?’

‘You’d do that for me?’