Page 145 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘I want to,’ Mabel says, but the truth is that Mabel doesn’t know who to trust any more. Least of all, Belinda.
105
Belinda
I take myself off for a walk through town. In the past, I haven’t had a spare moment to get down here, but since Mabel no longer wants to see me, I seem to have a lot of time on my hands. After all, I used to spend many of my hours off with her before all this happened.
I pass an Oxfam charity shop, a greengrocer’s and then a jeweller’s, which I’ve never been into because what use do I have for jewellery? However, today it has a CLOSING DOWN SALE: 80 PER CENT OFF sign in the window so, on impulse, I go in, hoping I might find Mabel something small to say sorry. I don’t have much money but it’s worth a look.
The owner is about my age and immediately starts telling me how sad he is to be shutting up. ‘My dad started this place and I took over. But now I feel it’s time to retire.’
He runs his hands through his hair. ‘He kept paperwork going back years. I’m still trying to sort it out. You wouldn’t believe how many people have left jewellery here and forgotten to collect it. I’ve got a pile of tickets with names but no contact numbers.’
That’s when I have a lightning-bolt moment. ‘I don’t suppose you have a locket under the name of Marchmont, do you?’
Sometimes, things are meant to be. When I have paid the cost of the repair for the broken clasp, I bring it back to Mabel.
Her eyes narrow when she sees me and get even harder when I hand her the locket.
‘So you’ve decided to return it have you?’
I was worried she might say that. But I have proof. ‘I found it in a jeweller’s shop. Here’s the repair ticket. It has your signature and the date from twenty years ago.’
Something dawns in her eyes. ‘Yes … I remember now. I knew I’d left it somewhere safe, but my memory isn’t what it used to be. I took it in when the chain broke.’
She opens it. I’m beginning to think I should have called Garth in case there are more surprises inside.
There’s a photograph of a woman on either side. They’re both classically beautiful, their hair in chignons above swan-like necks. ‘This is my mother,’ says Mabel softly, ‘and then this is my aunt.’
‘What’s that underneath the photograph of your aunt?’ I ask, glimpsing a tiny edge of something white.
It’s a photograph of a baby. On the back are the wordsOur darling daughter.
‘That’s my aunt’s handwriting,’ whispers Mabel. ‘But why put it there if she didn’t want anyone to realize she was my mother?’
‘Perhaps,’ I say, ‘she wanted you to know that she really did love you.’
Then Mabel bursts into tears. ‘Thank you, Belinda, for finding this. You’ve made me very happy.’
It’s not forgiveness. I don’t deserve that. But it might be a start.
106
That afternoon, another brick is thrown, this time through Mabel’s window. More people withdraw their loved ones, but Mabel refuses to leave Sunnyside, despite Harry’s pleas to find a safer place.
‘I’m innocent,’ she says. ‘Why should I hide? Besides, this has been my home since I was a child.’
I can see the writing on the wall. Sunnyside won’t be able to survive this.
Imran texts again.
Are you all right? I’ve seen some of the messages on social media. They’re scary.
I don’t reply. I shouldn’t have given him my number.
The following day, I’m in the reception area when a taxi draws up. A smart, stout woman in a velvet coat climbs out, supported by a wooden cane. She looks around curiously, then hobbles cautiously up to the front door.
‘Who are you visiting?’ asks the receptionist through the intercom.
