Page 48 of The Stranger in Room Six
Belinda sinks back into her chair with exhaustion. Talking about her old life has brought it all back. How had she survived?
‘I need a break now,’ she says.
‘But you can’t!’ Mabel is on the edge of her chair. ‘I need to know what happened next. Your life is scarier than anything on TV. I still can’t get over how you scalded another prisoner. In fact, I’m going to think twice about asking you to make me a cup of tea now.’
‘It was in self-defence,’ Belinda points out.
‘I know, dear. I was only joking. We need something to lighten the atmosphere.’
Belinda’s voice comes out in a choke. ‘No one knows what it’s like in prison unless they’ve been in one.’
Tears roll down her face. The old lady reaches out, grasping both of Belinda’s hands.
‘It will be all right,’ Mabel soothes. ‘You’re safe here. You’ll never have to see any of those people again. Why don’t we have a break? We could play chess. Do you like that?’
‘Anything but crosswords,’ sniffed Belinda. It felt comforting to be looked after for a change.
‘Why not crosswords?’
‘Because Gerald was addicted to the bloody things.’
‘Personally, I loathe crosswords, so chess it is. We’ll have a few walks too and maybe watch that marvellousWho Do YouThink You Are?programme. Then I’ll continue with my story so you can have a little break. What do you think?’
‘Yes,’ sniffed Belinda. ‘Thank you, that sounds like a good idea.’
‘It’s all right, love,’ Mabel says, giving her a warm hug. ‘It’s what friends are for.’
32
1941
Christmas was approaching. There was still no news about Clarissa and the Colonel getting married, although he had said they’d ‘got a date’. Mabel was glad she hadn’t mentioned it.
Sometimes it felt as though she had been living in the Old Rectory for ever. At other times, it felt like a few weeks. But ‘this festive time for reflecting and praying for peace’, as the vicar called it, brought back memories of sugar plums, white iced rabbit-shaped sweets in her Christmas stocking; her father lifting her up in front of the roaring fire and dancing around the drawing room; her mother, clapping from her own special pink-velvet chair; the gramophone that played Vera Lynn records.
But at the Old Rectory, the festive period felt different. The jollier that people became, the worse Mabel felt. Papa was missing. He might be dead. How could people be happy?
‘If we walk around with long faces, we might as well admit that Hitler has won,’ Cook told her when she saw Mabel’s tears drop into the Christmas pudding mixture.
‘We’ve got to have hope, love. Miracles happen in the war. You hear about them all the time. People get dug out of buildings and …’
Mabel gave a sob.
‘Oh, love! I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Why couldn’t Mama and my sister have been the lucky ones?’
‘Oh, Mabel. Life is very hard sometimes. But if your mother and father were here, what do you think they would say?’
‘Chin up,’ sniffed Mabel. ‘That was one of Papa’s favourite phrases. Mama was always laughing too.’
‘She was indeed. You’ve got her smile. I remember it well. We were the same age. We used to be friends, rather like you and Frannie from the cottage.’
‘Was Aunt Clarissa friends with you too?’
Cook’s lips tightened. ‘No. She believes “everyone should know their place”. I can tell you, when this war is over, things will change. I’m sure of it.’
‘Whatwill change?’ asked a sharp voice from the door.
