Page 37 of The Stranger in Room Six

‘Where have you been?’ demanded her aunt when she caught up with the rest of the hunt.

‘I don’t feel well,’ said Mabel, still reeling from Frannie’s words.

‘You’re just like your mother. Hunting made her sick too. Well, go home if you must but you’ll have to make your own way back.’

Mabel did as she was told, trying to rein in Wellington.

After a while, she climbed down. It felt safer to lead him on foot.

As they went through the woods towards the Old Rectory, she saw a piece of paper fluttering on the ground, then another.

And a third too. Mabel thought back to the papers hidden in the Colonel’s saddle bag.

Curiously, she picked them up.

Are you unhappy with the running of our country? Do you want to see change? Are you prepared to stand up to the government and fight for a better future?

What kind of change? Mabel had an uneasy feeling. Before she could think further, she ripped them into tiny pieces and threw them into the river that ran down to the sea. Shaking with fear, she watched them float away.

That night she tossed and turned, wondering what to do next. There was, she decided, only one course of action. But it would take every inch of bravery.

When the cock crowed next morning, she marched up to the Hall. The Colonel always rode early.

‘Mabel!’ he said, when she found him in the stables. ‘What are you doing here at this time? Is your aunt all right?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, but I’m not. You see, I saw you putting some papers in your bag yesterday, and then I found leaflets on the ground after you’d left.’

‘I see,’ he said, looking her straight in the eyes.

Her voice shook. ‘They talked about fighting back against the government.’

‘Of course they did, Mabel. We need to stand up to the politicians who are trying to take food out of people’s mouths. Think about your little friend Frannie. People like that need more help.’ He paused. ‘What did you do with the leaflets by the way?’

‘The wind took them,’ she said, hoping God wouldn’t punish her for telling a lie, ‘and they blew away down the river.’

A brief frown passed across his face. ‘That’s a shame. Now if I were you, Mabel, I wouldn’t say anything about this to anyone. In these uncertain times, people are understandably twitchy about perfectly innocent things. We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. Would we?’

‘No,’ she whispered nervously.

Mabel fretted about their conversation all the way home. Part of her would have liked to talk to Frannie or Cook about what had just happened. But something inside made her feel she ought to stay quiet.

Later that day, she heard the Colonel arrive, followed by the library door slamming shut. Standing outside, she heard low voices. ‘We need to get her involved as soon as possible while there’s still time …’

Suddenly the door swung open and Mabel flew backwards. ‘Were you listening to us?’ demanded her aunt.

‘No,’ she stammered. ‘Not exactly.’

‘What did you hear?’

‘Something about you wanting me to get involved.’

‘That’s right, Mabel,’ said the Colonel, stepping in. ‘We thought you might like to help us make Britain great again. It might end the war sooner.’

‘How?’

‘It’s complicated. Now, why don’t you start by putting these leaflets in envelopes? No need to read them. Just fold them neatly like this.’

Excitedly, she began to do as instructed. It felt so nice to be working together round the table like this. Even her aunt gave her a little smile.

‘Afterwards, if you’d really like to help, you could hide them in the woods so others can collect them,’ said the Colonel.

‘But why would we want to hide them?’

‘It makes it more fun for people when they find them,’ her aunt said quickly. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone what we’re doing or it will ruin the surprise!’

‘That’s right,’ said the Colonel. ‘You’re one of us now.’

Mabel felt a flash of pride pass through her.

She liked the red-and-black pattern at the top of the letters so much that, later that night, she found herself drawing one on the lower part of the wall, which was hidden by her bed, to show she was part of the ‘fight for a better future’.

It was so nice when her aunt was kind like this, thought Mabel, though she couldn’t help but wonder why all this secrecy was needed.

On Christmas Eve, Aunt Clarissa gave Mabel A Child’s Guide to Algebra.

‘Shouldn’t we wait until Christmas Day for presents?’ Mabel had asked.

‘Some countries do it earlier,’ said her aunt crisply. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘I am! Thank you.’

The Colonel, who had joined them for dinner, presented her with a beautiful bound gold-and-green book with the title Shakespeare’s Sonnets on the cover.

‘Thank you,’ she said, eagerly. ‘My father would love this. He used to read poetry to my mother …’

She trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

‘Don’t start blubbing,’ said Clarissa, her old, sharp voice back again. ‘We can’t change the past. We have to put it behind us and get on with the present.’

‘But what about Papa?’ asked Mabel. ‘Don’t you ever think of him?’

‘Why should I do that?’ she asked sharply.

‘Because he’s your sister’s husband and he might be dead or in a prisoner-of-war camp!’ Mabel replied, hardly daring to believe that she was speaking to her aunt like this.

‘Well, of course I wish him well,’ retorted her aunt coolly. ‘But like I said, we have to put our best foot forward in the meantime.’

The Colonel came closer to her and patted her shoulder. ‘I do understand it’s not easy for you, dear.’

He’d never called her ‘dear’ before or patted her shoulder. In fact, he seemed so kind that she felt certain now that he hadn’t had anything to do with Frannie’s father’s death.

He was generous too! Look how he was presenting her aunt with a pair of silk stockings.

‘They’re divine, Jonty,’ said her aunt, flushing.

The Colonel looked pleased. ‘I thought you’d like them.’

‘I didn’t think we could get stockings any more,’ said Mabel, impressed. ‘Where did you buy them?’

‘Mabel,’ snapped her aunt. ‘I can barely believe that a niece of mine could ask such rude questions. Clearly, your parents failed to teach you manners.’

‘That’s not true! They did. I just meant that –’

‘Don’t you dare answer me back,’ Clarissa snapped, before grabbing Polly from Mabel’s side. ‘Give this to me. You’re far too old for dolls, you foolish girl.’

‘No,’ cried Mabel. ‘Please, no. She’s all I have left of my sister.’

‘You can have her back in the morning if you’re good. Now go to your room.’

‘I say, Clarissa,’ she heard the Colonel say. ‘Wasn’t that a bit harsh?’

That night, she woke up with a start. It was past midnight, which meant that it was now Christmas Day.

But this time there was no stocking on the end of her bed.

No loving kiss from her parents when she went running into their room to give them the present she’d saved up to buy them.

No warm, snuggly cuddles with Annabel. Not even the comfort of Polly next to her.

Instead, she could hear a car pulling up outside.

Maybe that’s what had woken her. Peering through the curtains, she saw a figure run inside wearing a long beige trench coat.

She went to her door and opened it a crack.

There were whisperings and the sound of another door closing somewhere.

Not long after that, it opened again. Looking out of the window, she could see someone running out to the car and driving off without switching on the headlights.

‘Did someone come to visit last night?’ asked Mabel at breakfast that morning.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Clarissa sharply.

‘I thought I heard someone,’ she replied, not wanting to mention that she’d actually seen someone.

‘You’re imagining it. Keep quiet; this is exactly how misunderstandings come about.’ Then she pushed Polly roughly into Mabel’s arms. ‘If it wasn’t Christmas, I’d confiscate this for longer. Now get ready for church. Jonty will be waiting for us.’

He was. In fact, he gave Mabel such a kindly smile that she instantly felt better, despite everything.

Frannie and her mother, on the other hand, looked straight past Mabel as if she didn’t exist. The lacemaker was there as well and gave Mabel a concerned glance before glaring at the Colonel.

Had she been told that he was responsible for Frannie’s father too?

At times, he seemed honourable, and at others, scary. Was it possible to be both?

Christmas lunch was surprisingly lavish, given what her aunt referred to as ‘those awful ration restrictions’.

There was a huge ‘bird’, as the Colonel called it, followed by the raisin pudding she and Cook had made.

Mabel could barely eat a mouthful; all she could think about was Frannie and her family’s sad faces at church.

‘May I go for a walk?’ she asked after lunch.

‘Good idea,’ drawled her aunt, reaching for the decanter of port, her eyes half-closed as she draped herself against the Colonel’s shoulder.

If they did get married, what would happen to Mabel? Maybe the Colonel wouldn’t want her to live with them. Perhaps she’d be thrown out and become an orphan.

Mabel found herself walking further and further along a lane. As she did so, she heard something extraordinary: the sound of singing – soft, lyrical tones. It was another language; one she had never heard before.