Page 39 of The Stranger in Room Six

The following morning, after a restless night, Mabel was called to her aunt’s bedroom.

Usually, at this time, Clarissa would be sitting at breakfast, perfectly coiffured, often with the Colonel, who would have ridden over early (it must have been early because Mabel never actually saw him arriving).

They would be ‘perusing’ The Times and eating poached eggs.

But today her aunt looked pale and wan as she perched on the pink chaise longue by the window, still in her nightclothes. There were dark circles under her eyes.

‘Has the Colonel returned?’ Mabel asked.

‘No,’ said her aunt dully.

‘When will he be back?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘I don’t know.’

Her aunt turned to her. Those beautiful blue eyes were so like Mama’s, yet somehow cold and hard. ‘Did you tell anyone about the work we were doing? Those leaflets you delivered?’

Mabel felt herself reddening. ‘No.’

Her aunt continued to stare and Mabel felt obliged to qualify her statement. Speaking in a firm voice that wasn’t like her own at all, she said, ‘Of course I didn’t, although I don’t see what’s wrong in rebelling against the government if it’s going to make Britain great again, like you said.’

Her aunt stood up, furiously crushing her cigarette into a shell-shaped ashtray, a wild look on her face. ‘Unfortunately, there are too many people in this world who do not know what is good for them.’

As she spoke, tyres crunched over the drive outside. Mabel ran to the window. ‘It’s the police again.’

They stood side by side, looking down as a lone figure in uniform got out of the car and strode to the front door.

‘I can’t see the Colonel,’ said Mabel in a quiet voice.

Her aunt was silent.

Together they waited. For the first time in her life Mabel felt attuned to her aunt. It was not a dissatisfactory feeling and she soon felt herself reaching for Clarissa’s hand, but her aunt recoiled and moved away. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

It was Frannie! She must be back at work after her compassionate leave. Mabel hadn’t seen her since that awful day at the hunt.

‘The policeman wants to see you, miss,’ she said.

‘Tell him I’ll join him in the drawing room when I’ve dressed,’ declared her aunt haughtily. Her tone suggested she was back to her usual self.

‘Not you, my lady. He was talking about Miss Mabel.’

Frannie’s eyes were cold and harsh, and somewhat gleeful.

‘Why?’ said Mabel shakily.

‘He didn’t say.’

‘I will go with her,’ said Aunt Clarissa.

‘He requested that Miss Mabel should go alone.’

Conscious that all eyes were on her – Cook at the door of the dining room and James the groom in the hall – Mabel followed Frannie nervously into the drawing room.

The policeman was different from the last one. This man was shorter with sandy hair and a belted raincoat.

‘Please sit down,’ he said, as if he was the owner of the Old Rectory and Mabel was a visitor.

‘You might wonder why I want to talk to you alone.’

She nodded, too scared to speak.

‘Someone has come forward to say that they saw you by the river a few weeks ago. They said you were ripping up paper and throwing it into the water. Can you tell me more about that, Mabel?’

Mabel felt her throat tighten and her mouth go dry. ‘They were letters to my mother,’ she croaked, thinking quickly.

The policeman’s eyes narrowed. ‘I was told your mother was killed in the London air raids.’

Mabel winced at his stark words. ‘I still write to her. It makes me feel as though she is still here.’

‘Then why were you throwing the letters away?’

‘Because I realized I had to accept that she had finally gone. At least, that’s what everyone seems to think I should do.’

The policeman’s face softened. ‘So it wasn’t a leaflet encouraging people to rebel against the government?’

‘Of course not,’ she said, trying to sound firm. ‘Who saw me?’

‘Your aunt’s maid.’

Frannie? How could she? Was she trying to get revenge for her father’s death, even though Mabel had had nothing to do with it?

The policeman leaned in closer. ‘Has the Colonel or your aunt, or maybe both, shown a leaning towards the ideologies of Hitler?’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Have they shown sympathy towards the enemy?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘What do they talk about?’

‘Hunting. Digging the land. And doing our best for Britain.’

‘I see.’

There was a silence. Mabel had the distinct feeling that the policeman was waiting for her to say something but, remembering the lacemaker’s words, she decided now might be a good time to stay silent.

Eventually, he spoke instead. ‘Very well,’ he said.

‘But if you do hear your aunt saying anything along those lines, I would expect you to come to the station and tell us. Otherwise, Miss Mabel, you could be in a great deal of trouble yourself. Failure to disclose important information could be a criminal offence.’

‘I understand,’ she said quietly.

After he left, Clarissa called her into her room. ‘What did he say?’ she demanded.

Mabel gave her a shortened version.

‘You write to your mother? What on earth do you do that for?’

‘It helps to keep her alive in my head,’ said Mabel quietly.

‘I miss her too,’ her aunt said after a moment. ‘Sometimes I wish we had done things differently.’

‘What kind of things?’

There’s the hint of a sigh. ‘It’s too late to talk about it now. What’s done is done.’

Then she dropped a kiss on the top of Mabel’s head. It was so light that she barely felt it, but surely it showed that her aunt really did love her!

‘Now go and play, so I can get some rest,’ said Clarissa, stepping away. ‘We just have to hope that Jonty returns.’

Mabel did as she was told, hoping to catch Frannie. It was time to get things straight.

‘She’s gone home,’ said Cook. So, before she could lose her nerve, Mabel ran through the woods to the cottage.

The door was open. Frannie was scrubbing the floor. She looked up as Mabel stood there, eyes wide.

‘You’re still here? Didn’t the policeman take you away?’

‘No,’ she said, deciding not to mention the leaflets. ‘The policeman just wanted to know if the Colonel had shown sympathy to the enemy.’

‘I suppose you told them he hadn’t.’

Mabel nodded.

Frannie snorted. ‘You’re so naive at times, Mabel. I bet your aunt’s involved.’

Mabel thought of the kiss on her head. ‘I don’t think so.

Besides, the only way we’ll find out is if I stay here and keep an eye on her.

It will be easier now that the Colonel is away.

It’s the least I can do after your father’s death.

I am so sorry; I really didn’t think I had done anything wrong. If only I’d known …’

She trailed off, tears springing to her eyes.

‘It’s not enough,’ Frannie retorted.

‘I think it is,’ said a voice behind them. It was Frannie’s mother. ‘Miss Mabel has been punished too much in life, Frannie. So have you. Both of you have lost a parent. This poor maid may have lost two, for all we know.’

Mabel’s eyes stung with tears.

‘You should forgive each other. We need friends in these difficult times.’

‘But Dad would still be alive if she hadn’t told the Colonel about that food.’

‘It was loose talk, I grant you. And loose talk can cost lives. But she didn’t mean to.’

‘Of course I didn’t,’ said Mabel. ‘Please, Frannie, I’ve missed you so much. You’re the only friend I have. I vow on my life that I will be more careful from now on.’

She stepped forward to give her a hug but her friend moved back. Mabel’s heart thumped with fury.

‘Your dad would want you to forgive her,’ her mother urged. ‘If I can, so can you.’

‘All right,’ said Frannie grudgingly. ‘I’ve missed you too, to be honest. I thought you were different from the other toffs but –’

‘I am,’ Mabel insisted.

‘I’ll give you one last chance. You’ve got to keep your mouth shut and your eyes peeled. If you hear anything about your aunt, let us know.’

‘I will,’ said Mabel, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘Come on then,’ said Frannie, opening her arms. It was just a quick hug, but it was enough to show they were friends again.