Page 91 of The Stranger in Room Six

Mabel’s decision to run the Old Rectory for respite care proved to be one of the best of her life.

Looking after these poor souls who needed love and care after the war gave her a sense of purpose.

Yet it could never ease the pain of not knowing where her son was (he would be three by now) or if his father was still alive.

Mabel had, of course, written to the Red Cross to see if they knew where her love might be, but there was no trace of him.

All over Europe, families were still desperately trying to reunite.

But it was equally possible that Antonio had returned to Italy and made a new life for himself.

Meanwhile, Mabel had come to terms with her father’s new situation.

From his letters, he seemed very happy His wife was even expecting a baby. ‘I hope you can share in our joy,’ he wrote. His words were like a punch to her stomach. This baby would be his real flesh and blood – not like her.

‘Grow up,’ she said to herself. ‘You’re almost twenty now. Be happy for them and get on with your own life.’

So she threw herself into her convalescents, who seemed to be finding peace at the Old Rectory.

‘How did a young girl like you come to live in a beautiful place like this?’ asked a discharged soldier one day, as he sat in the conservatory, staring out at the sea. He had one leg propped up on a stool. The other ended just below the knee.

‘My aunt left it to me,’ she said. Of course, she could have told him that the aunt had really been her mother, but that wasn’t something to be shared with strangers.

Mind you, this man did not seem like a stranger.

From the moment he entered the doors of her gracious home, he had seemed different from the others.

Her instinct told her that, like many, he’d been wounded emotionally as well as physically.

Yet there was also a steadiness about him that reassured her.

‘Did your parents live here too?’ he asked.

‘Actually, my mother and baby sister were killed in the London Blitz.’

‘I’m so sorry. How dreadful for you.’

Mabel bowed her head in acknowledgement. ‘I was sent to live here while my father went off to fight but then … Then my aunt died just as the war ended.’

The image of finding Clarissa’s body crumpled on the ground was imprinted on Mabel’s mind: the word TRAITOR under the stone; the blood from the gunshot. No sign of a gun.

‘So you live in this big place on your own,’ he said, bringing her back to the present.

‘Not at all. I’m surrounded by people who care for me.

’ As she spoke, she saw Cook bustling across the lawn, handing a plate of warm scones to a young couple.

The man was an amputee, his plane having been shot down over France.

This was their honeymoon. But the girl was laughing as if all her dreams had come true.

Mabel would feel the same if Antonio came home, however badly injured he might be.

‘What about you?’ she asked, trying to regain her composure.

He spoke without emotion, in the way people sometimes do when they’re hurting inside. ‘My father was killed in an air raid too. My mother passed away from tuberculosis when I was a child.’

‘I’m so sorry. Do you have brothers or sisters?’

‘No, but I do have my work.’

‘What do you do?’ she asked, having mentally put him down as an engineer or maybe a teacher.

‘Before I was called up, I was a scientist.’

Mabel had never really understood science, either at school or when her aunt had been helping her. In fact, they’d skipped those particular lessons together.

‘How very clever,’ she said, impressed. ‘I’m afraid my education suffered horribly during the war, although I do read a great deal.’

‘So do I,’ he said eagerly. ‘I’m enjoying a wonderful book at the moment, by an author called Hermann Hesse. Have you heard of him?’

‘He sounds German,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Half-German, actually. But that shouldn’t stop us reading good books.’

Mabel agreed. ‘I’m reading a book by Virginia Woolf. It’s called To the Lighthouse.’

‘I’ve never read any of hers.’

‘Well, you must borrow my copy if you’d like,’ she said.

‘Thank you. I’d like that.’

Over the next fortnight – the usual period of a guest’s stay – Mabel began to spend more and more time, checking that the young man, whose name she learned was Michael, was comfortable and enjoying his visit.

Although she sensed a vulnerability under that assured manner, she didn’t like to ask what had happened to him in the war. But one day, as they took a slow walk down to the sea – he was coming to grips with his crutches now – Michael began to tell her.

‘You’ve been very good not to inquire into my situation, but I would like to tell you.’

‘Only if you want,’ she said quickly.

‘I do.’

He took a deep breath. ‘I joined the RAF before the call came out. It gave me a wonderful freedom. As a child, I used to think that my mother was in the clouds, and even as an adult, I liked to imagine she was still there.’

I understand that, thought Mabel.

‘Then one night, our plane took a hit and we had to bail out over the sea. I was rescued by some Norwegians. They hid me for a short time but then word came out that the Germans would kill anyone who assisted the enemy. So I gave myself up and was sent to a POW camp until the end of the war.’

‘What was it like?’ she asked, thinking of Antonio’s camp and how he was able to come and go as he pleased.

Michael’s lips tightened. ‘Horrible. I tried to escape but was shot in the leg, which explains this.’ He glanced down at his crutch.

‘When the army were on their way to liberate us, one of the guards shot himself in front of me. His brains splattered around us. I knew I should feel grateful he couldn’t hurt us any more, but I also felt sorry for him.

This war … it’s conjured so many mixed emotions. ’

‘I know. I feel the same.’

He reached out for her hand. ‘Please forgive me if this is too forward but I can’t help telling you how much I admire you.

I’ve been watching how kind you are to everyone and thinking about how marvellous it is that we can talk so easily.

I’m aware we haven’t known each other long but the war has taught us all that life can be short.

The truth is that I have fallen in love with you, Mabel. ’

Mabel stepped back. This was the last thing she’d been expecting. She’d seen Michael as just another young man who needed help and comfort.

‘I’m so sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea,’ she stammered. ‘But my heart belongs to someone else.’

His face dropped. ‘I should have known. A beautiful girl like you would be taken by now. Who is the lucky man?’

Someone who might have tried to kill you during the war? The enemy? How could she tell him that?

‘His name is Anthony,’ she said, not wanting to give his Italian name. ‘He’s been caught up in the war.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I have no idea where he is.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He was standing a good distance from her now. ‘Well, Anthony is a very lucky man. I wish you both happiness if he returns.’

Later, as she went down to the sea to clear her head, Mabel noticed the door to the lacemaker’s cottage was open. Mabel recalled her words at their last meeting. ‘But we cannot always have everything.’

Yet surely she could have some happiness?

Tentatively, Mabel went in.

The lacemaker was sitting at the table, as though she was expecting her. Although no one knew how old she was, she seemed to have aged in the last few months, her movements slower and hair greying.

‘How nice to see you, Mabel,’ she said.

‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘I never mind being disturbed by you. Your kind smile is so like your mother’s.’

Mabel felt the warm glow she always got when someone commented on their likeness even though Mama was actually her aunt. She was also glad that the lacemaker, even though she knew the truth, continued to keep up the pretence.

‘Please, take a seat. Are you here to talk about your young man? I suppose you’re wondering if you’ll ever see him and your child again?’

Mabel nodded. ‘How did you know?’

The lacemaker tapped her head in answer, smiling softly at Mabel. Then she closed her eyes, as if in a trance. Mabel’s mouth was dry with hope and fear as she waited.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually, ‘but I cannot see anything this time.’

Mabel felt her heart plummet with bitter disappointment.

‘But there is one piece of advice drumming away in my head.’

She looked unflinchingly at Mabel. ‘The truth always finds us out.’

Now

‘Was she right?’ asks Belinda. ‘Does the truth always come out?’ She looks rather pale and tired, Mabel notices.

‘I’m not sure,’ says Mabel. How can she admit that she is still waiting for that knock on the door?