Page 88 of The Stranger in Room Six

Mabel

Mabel hasn’t been able to sleep all night. ‘So what happened next?’ she asks as soon as Belinda arrives with her breakfast.

‘It’s actually your turn.’

She finds herself thumping her fist on the arm of the chair. ‘But I want to know about Imran and Karen.’

‘And I’d like to know what happened after Clarissa died,’ says Belinda. ‘In fact, I’ve a feeling you need to get it off your chest.’

Her new friend knows her all too well. ‘Yes,’ whispers Mabel. ‘I suppose I do.’

1944

The weeks after her aunt’s murder were hazy. Later in life, Mabel couldn’t decide whether she had deliberately blocked them out or was simply too shocked to take everything in.

Clarissa shot to death, killed in cold blood. The note beside her body declaring her aunt a traitor.

The aunt who was really her mother.

The chief constable came to interview her about finding the body (perhaps an ordinary policeman wasn’t high-up enough for a well-known figure in the community), but all Mabel could say was that she had no idea who could have committed such a terrible crime.

If it hadn’t been for Cook and Frannie’s mother, and the others in the village who had gathered around her, Mabel would not have coped.

‘You don’t think I was involved too, do you?’ she asked Cook after the chief constable left.

‘Of course I don’t, love,’ she said, taking Mabel in her arms. ‘No one does. You mustn’t worry about that. But there’s a lot of folk out there who might be guilty; the ones who thought she was a Hitler sympathizer like the Colonel was. I even heard that Frannie was questioned.’

‘Frannie?’

‘She was often heard bad-mouthing Lady Clarissa. But they can’t have anything on her ’cos she’s walking round the village now, her head high. There isn’t much else for the police to go on.’

It was true. The note had been in big capital letters, leaving no indication of who might have written it. And despite extensive searching through the grounds, there was no sign of the gun.

Mabel tried to send word of Clarissa’s death to Papa (she still saw him as that, despite everything), but received a reply to say he had now been sent on ‘special duties’ to Jerusalem. What could he be doing there? The war was drawing to a close. Everyone was saying so.

I am so sorry, he wrote in a scrawl that seemed rushed and most unlike his usual tidy script. This must have been a terrible shock. Hold tight, my darling. I will be back when this is all over.

But would he? There seemed no certainty in life any more. As for Antonio, no one knew where he had been taken. But the one person she missed most of all was the person she’d barely got to know. Her son.

‘One day,’ she told herself, as she threw the final clump of earth on her aunt’s coffin (a ceremony attended by only her and Cook), ‘I will find you, my precious boy.’

Later that week, when Mabel was summoned to the local lawyer, she was stunned to discover that Clarissa had left her the Old Rectory as well as a considerable sum of money.

Then again, her aunt had no one else to leave it to.

Now this beautiful home was owned by the Marchmont family.

Gone were the stains left by the Sinclairs.

She might have Clarissa and Jonty’s blood in her body but Mabel still saw Papa and Mama as her parents.

‘Will you sell it?’ asked Cook when she told her.

‘No. I want to do something good with the place. We’ll offer it to those returning from the war who need somewhere peaceful for a break. We can invite their wives too. And their children.’

‘That’s a lovely idea. Mind you, it will be a lot for us to manage.’

‘Actually,’ said Mabel. ‘We don’t need to worry about that. Clarissa didn’t just leave me the house. She left me quite a lot of money as well.’

Cook sniffed. ‘Maybe the woman had a conscience after all.’

‘The best part is that this means all your jobs are safe and we can afford to employ more staff to take care of the convalescents.’

‘Will we need to provide medical help?’

‘No. I see it more as a holiday refuge.’

‘You’re a good girl.’

Tears sprang in Cook’s eyes, making Mabel cry too. ‘I just want to try and put something back into the world. It’s the only way I’m going to cope without my baby.’

Then she broke into big, juddering sobs.

Once more, Cook put her arms around her, until she stopped. To Mabel’s relief she didn’t come out with platitudes like ‘it will be all right’. Because it couldn’t be. Not unless she found her son, and even then, he would already have been formally adopted. He could never be hers now.

‘What about your young man?’

Mabel blushed. ‘When I went to the camp, someone thought he’d been sent on from the one he’d been transferred to.’

‘He might be on his way home now.’

Mabel’s heart swelled with hope. ‘Please may that be true. In fact, I did wonder if I might try to get to Italy somehow. He told me the name of the village he came from.’

‘You’d go there on your own?’

‘Why not?’

‘You’re plucky, I’ll give that to you. Just like your mother.’

Mabel gave her another hug. How she loved it when people compared them. It helped to keep Mama alive in her heart.