Page 99 of The Stranger in Room Six

Mabel was as proud of Harry as if he were her blood brother. When he got into Oxford to read History, she told everyone.

By then she was having to slow things down at the Old Rectory. Cook had long since retired and had to be looked after, which Mabel was very happy to do until Cook sadly passed some years later.

As she had done before, Mabel threw herself into work, hiring more staff and continuing to give free refuge to those who needed it.

As time went by, Mabel couldn’t help noticing what a variety of visitors they had.

More wars had broken out; more refugees were desperate for somewhere they could come for a break.

Or sometimes it was simply people who couldn’t make their pennies stretch and were beyond grateful to find kindness here.

When Harry graduated – a ceremony Mabel attended with pride bursting in her heart – he declared that he wanted to enter politics.

‘Are you sure?’ said Papa. ‘That’s a very unstable business. You need a job to support you. How about the law? I know someone who might be able to offer you a pupillage.’

Then, two weeks later, Diana rang in hysterics. ‘It’s your father. He’s … He’s dead.’

At first, Mabel couldn’t believe it. Papa had seemed so well at the graduation. But Diana managed to explain through her cries that it had been a heart attack out of the blue.

Mabel went straight to bed – something she never did during the day. All she wanted to do was put the covers over her and sob, but then she thought of Harry. She briefed the staff as quickly as she could and got on the train to London to see her brother.

‘I am the head of the Marchmonts now,’ she told herself. It was a strange feeling. She didn’t feel old enough at forty to be at the top of the tree; Papa’s death, for some reason, made it feel as though her mother and Annabel were drifting further and further away in her memories.

Papa had been her rock. He had been trying, through his connections, to track down her son but it seemed impossible.

The adoption society had closed down and she didn’t know the name of his adoptive parents.

Their only hope was that he might find her one day, but although Mabel lived in hope of a letter or phone call, it never came.

Meanwhile, she had long given up hope when it came to her lover. As a prisoner of war, Antonio would have been released some time ago. If he truly cared, he would have found her by now.

By the time Mabel reached her seventies, Harry had achieved his ambition of becoming a Cabinet minister. His next ambition was to become prime minister one day – a goal she was sure he would achieve. Her own little brother!

But her excitement was cut short when she broke her hip a week later, tripping on the staircase. It was enough for Harry to declare that she couldn’t continue the way she was.

‘I’m not going into a home,’ she told Harry firmly when they discussed the ‘options’. ‘This place is my home.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Harry. ‘But I have an idea. Why not turn it into a residential and nursing home? You can be the first resident!’

‘Oh my dearest, I’m not sure. It would be such a huge project! We’d need to change so much in the house to make it accessible.’

‘We’re going to need to do that for you, anyway,’ he pointed out gently.

‘There will be so many rules and regulations to follow.’

‘We can find the right people to help us.’

‘What about staff?’

‘We’ll go through agencies and word of mouth to find the best.’ Harry’s eyes were shining. ‘Think about it, Mabel. You’ll be able to stay in your own home and be looked after, without giving up the business. We’ll make sure it’s the crème de la crème of care by the sea.’

‘I don’t think we’ve got the money to do this and we might not be able to get a grant.’

‘I’m happy to use some of Dad’s money if you like and be an investor. He’d have liked that.’

The idea was beginning to grow on her. ‘But I want it to be a happy place for everyone,’ said Mabel. ‘We need a cheerful name. How about … Sunnyside?’

‘Sunnyside Home for the Young at Heart,’ finished Harry, hugging her. ‘It’s perfect.’

Although Mabel couldn’t admit it, she hoped it would dispel any of the evil left by Clarissa and the Colonel. She still felt sick to the core when she thought of the things that had taken place here during the war, and what would happen if anyone found out.

Within a month of opening, the home was full. One of their first residents was a lovely man who was visited regularly by his equally kind daughter, Anne. Their surname was Marples. ‘A bit like Miss Marple, the detective,’ they joked.

She could not have been happier.

If only she’d known what lay ahead.