Page 136 of The Stranger in Room Six
I swallow. ‘First, can you make sure that my daughters are safe. Mouse said they’d be in danger if I didn’t get her the information she was after.’
‘So that’s why you got so close to Mabel. I wondered as much.’
‘Actually, I really care for her,’ I start to say but he gives me a ‘who do you think you’re kidding?’ look before continuing.
‘As for your girls, we’ll see what we can do. In return, I want you to think very carefully. You spent a lot of time with Miss Marchmont. Can you think where she might have hidden that list?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Please,’ says Harry. ‘My sister’s life might depend on it.’ He puts his head in his hands before looking up at me again.‘My enemies hope that the connection will ruin my career. But we’re more concerned that Mabel is becoming a target. Someone has already tried to kill her.’
I shudder. ‘Mouse threatened my girls’ lives if I didn’t give her the list.’
‘Well, at least you don’t need to worry about that any more,’ said Garth.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Amanda Smith – Mouse, as you call her – died on the way to hospital.’
98
Mouse is dead. And this time it’s true.
I can’t believe it, but I have to admit I’m relieved. She could have killed us all. Unlike last time, I don’t shed any tears.
Meanwhile, Mabel is back in her room at Sunnyside. She seems more shocked by Butlins Bill than by the shooting. (I thought that Harry would stop me from being with Mabel but he wants me to continue as her carer in case she says something important. So I’ve gone from having one master to another.)
‘He’s such a clown! I’d never have had him down as a member of the Special Forces.’
‘I agree but, Mabel, we really need to find that list. It’s of national importance.’
‘So they keep telling me. But I’ve no bloody idea where it is.’
It’s been a while since Mabel swore. Is it frustration or guilt because she is indeed hiding it?
‘They think your aunt gave it to you.’
‘I told you before. The only thing my aunt gave me was a locket but I don’t know where it is now.’
Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I’m tired of this. It’s not the way I want to end my days. My brother suspects me of supporting a pair of Hitler sympathizers when in fact they were the ones who ruined my life. Someone tried to kill me and, for all I know, someone else might try to do so again.’
‘It’s all right,’ I say, holding her. ‘Just let it out, love. I believe you.’
And I do.
For a few minutes we sit there. Mabel in bed. Me on the eiderdown next to her, holding her hand.
‘I want to sleep now,’ says Mabel. ‘Can you give me my doll?’
I hand her over. ‘Polly,’ murmurs Mabel, clasping it to her chest.
Within minutes she is asleep.
The doll stares up at me, sending shivers down my spine. Then Mabel moves and Polly slips precariously out of her grasp. I grab her before she falls and go to put her on the bedside table.
Then Mabel’s words come back to me when she’d described Polly, after rescuing her from the rubble of the Blitz. ‘She was so soft and warm.’
I take off the doll’s elaborate dress, which has become quite grimy over the years. Her body underneath is made of cloth, which appears to be stuffed. I recall Mabel vehemently refusing suggestions that it should be washed ‘in case it disintegrated with age’. There’s a seam down the side of her body. All I need is a pair of scissors.
