Page 22 of The Stranger in Room Six
She looks out of the window wistfully. ‘I wish I could get down there more often. My aunt used to own that small private beach you know, and now it’s mine.’
‘Really?’
‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘Of course I do.’
But she says it as if humouring Mabel; treating her like some of the other residents who make up things, either deliberately or because their minds are going.
‘Well’, continues Belinda, ‘we should get you dressed so we can get out for an early morning walk before breakfast. How about this pretty skirt? The colour matches your beautiful eyes.’
‘Brilliant blue like cornflowers – always twinkling’, her Antonio used to say. Mabel pushes the thought of him aside and turns back to Belinda.
‘Hah! Flattery gets you everywhere.’
‘I mean it. Now, shall we get going?’
As Belinda pushes her chair through the grounds, Mabel lets out a sigh of relief. ‘It’s so good to breathe in the fresh air,’ she says dreamily. ‘Sunnyside can feel like a prison sometimes.’
The chair wobbles as if Belinda has taken her hands off the handles. For a moment, Mabel feels herself tipping sideways.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Belinda says, righting it again. ‘I didn’t realize the path edge was uneven.’
‘Well, please be careful.’
‘Of course I will. How clumsy of me.’ Then, as if to hide her embarrassment, she adds, ‘Aren’t those beech trees beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ replies Mabel, still a bit shaky from her near-tumble. ‘I remember when they were half that height. In fact, I knew the young man who trimmed them during the war. He was an Italian prisoner of war, actually. They helped maintain the land for us.’
‘Weren’t you scared of them? Being out in the open like that?’
‘No, they were all very nice.’
Then Mabel leans forward in her chair, her eyes sparkling like a child’s. ‘Look! We’re getting closer to the sea! I can breathe it. Smell it. You know, it was one of the first things I noticed when I came here during the war.’
She reaches out for Belinda’s hand, her voice full of emotion. ‘Thank you for bringing me out here, even though your driving skills could do with a bit of a polish. Often the carers are too busy. In fact, sometimes I feel like I’m going mad in that bloody house.’
Belinda squeezes her hand back. ‘I’m glad to see you looking happier, but I thought you loved the place. Your face lights up when you talk about the past: the chandelier; the trees being trimmed by Italian prisoners; your excitement about the sea.’
Mabel’s voice quivers. ‘I do love Sunnyside at times but at others it brings back bad memories.’
‘Maybe that’s what leads to your nightmares,’ says Belinda kindly. She hesitates before continuing. ‘I used to work in a place where people had been through some very difficult experiences. Going back to their childhoods always seemed cathartic. I’d be very happy to talk about those things with you, too.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Or I could help you write your life story! That’s another thing I used to do when … when I was a volunteer.’ Belinda’s voice seems to rise with excitement. ‘You could leave your memoir for your children or grandchildren.’
‘I don’t have any,’ Mabel says shortly.
‘Oh! I’m so sorry, I just assumed …’
Mabel sniffs. ‘Not everyone has children, you know. Do you?’
‘Two daughters.’
‘And are you close?’
‘We used to be but … well, things are a bit different now.’
