Page 97 of The Stranger in Room Six

Mabel

The Old Rectory, in its new form as a convalescent home, helped to distract Mabel from her broken heart. Together, she and Cook ploughed their energies into helping those who were damaged.

But when children visited – especially small, ruddy-faced boys who were the same age as her son would have been – Mabel found herself retreating to her room.

‘I understand, miss,’ Cook would say at the end of the day, giving her a warm hug. Mabel had noticed that she’d begun calling her that instead of ‘maid’ or another endearment. Perhaps it was because she was now in charge. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Let’s not stand on formality.’

Cook looked both flattered and concerned at the same time. ‘If you say so.’

Meanwhile, Mabel kept writing to the authorities – both British and Italian – to see if anyone knew where Antonio and his family were, but she had no success. And despite her pleas, the adoption society confirmed that she was not allowed to know where her son was.

She had to accept that they were both gone for ever. The only way to cope was to try and help others.

After a few years, the demand for convalescent homes began to ease off. People had to get jobs. They were expected to ‘get on with it’, even though the after-effects of war would never go away. Then Mabel had an idea.

They would open up the Old Rectory to families who had not necessarily been hurt by the war, but simply needed a rest. To her delight, they were given a ‘rejuvenation’ grant by the authorities, to add to what was left of Clarissa’s money.

‘You must keep some for yourself,’ said Cook.

‘But I don’t feel I deserve it.’

‘Nonsense. Of course you do.’

If only Cook knew her secret, thought Mabel guiltily, then she might think differently.

Meanwhile, she continued to make sure that Frannie’s mother and her remaining children at home had plenty of fuel and food.

‘You’re a kind girl. When are you going to settle down? You’d make a good wife.’

‘I’m happy the way I am,’ Mabel would say. No one could replace Antonio.

Over the next few years, Mabel continued to find comfort and pleasure in those who found rest at the Old Rectory. Many called her ‘auntie’. Some returned again and again.

To her surprise, she also found solace in someone else.

Until now, Mabel had seen little of Harry – her father and stepmother’s son.

Every now and then, Mabel would get the train to London and have lunch with Papa, but always at his club.

‘It gives us time to talk,’ he’d say. Yet Mabel had the feeling that Diana was jealous of her husband’s previous family.

As Harry grew older, and reminded her less of little Antonio, they began to form a closer connection.

Harry had grown into a strapping lad who loved cricket and riding.

Foam had long passed on and James the groom had retired, but there was another horse now called Sparkle, whom Mabel looked after herself.

Harry often came down in the holidays, sometimes without his parents.

They had wonderful days riding and walking by the sea.

And that’s when it happened.

Now

Mabel pauses at this point and stares into the distance, although there’s nothing there.

‘What is it?’ asks Belinda.

‘I’m sorry?’ murmurs Mabel.

‘You just said “That’s when it happened”.’

Mabel looks scared, shrinking in her chair. ‘I shouldn’t really tell.’

‘Please,’ says Belinda. ‘Let it out. You’ll feel better. I promise.’