Page 52 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘What do you mean?’ asked Clarissa sharply.
‘I thought I heard someone,’ she replied, not wanting to mention that she’d actuallyseensomeone.
‘You’re imagining it. Keep quiet; this is exactly how misunderstandings come about.’ Then she pushed Polly roughlyinto Mabel’s arms. ‘If it wasn’t Christmas, I’d confiscate this for longer. Now get ready for church. Jonty will be waiting for us.’
He was. In fact, he gave Mabel such a kindly smile that she instantly felt better, despite everything. Frannie and her mother, on the other hand, looked straight past Mabel as if she didn’t exist. The lacemaker was there as well and gave Mabel a concerned glance before glaring at the Colonel. Had she been told that he was responsible for Frannie’s father too? At times, he seemed honourable, and at others, scary. Was it possible to be both?
Christmas lunch was surprisingly lavish, given what her aunt referred to as ‘those awful ration restrictions’. There was a huge ‘bird’, as the Colonel called it, followed by the raisin pudding she and Cook had made. Mabel could barely eat a mouthful; all she could think about was Frannie and her family’s sad faces at church.
‘May I go for a walk?’ she asked after lunch.
‘Good idea,’ drawled her aunt, reaching for the decanter of port, her eyes half-closed as she draped herself against the Colonel’s shoulder.
If they did get married, what would happen to Mabel? Maybe the Colonel wouldn’t want her to live with them. Perhaps she’d be thrown out and become an orphan.
Mabel found herself walking further and further along a lane. As she did so, she heard something extraordinary: the sound of singing – soft, lyrical tones. It was another language; one she had never heard before.
34
Drawing nearer, Mabel realized the music was coming from a group of huts on the edge of the cliff. She was going to investigate when she saw one of the farmers from the village.
‘Who’s singing?’ she asked.
‘That lot’s the Italian prisoners of war.’
Mabel froze with terror. ‘What are they doing here? Aren’t they dangerous?’
‘Don’t worry, miss. They’re in an internment camp. Best place for them, although I have to say they’re good workers.’
The melody was beautiful, even if it was coming from the enemy.
‘They’ve got lovely voices,’ she admitted.
‘I suppose they have. Well, Merry Christmas to you, Miss Mabel.’ His eyes softened. ‘It must be hard for you after losing your family.’
‘I haven’t lost them all,’ she said quickly. ‘My father might be alive.’
‘Let’s pray that he is. I remember him as a young man when he was courting …’
He stopped briefly, as if he had something in his throat, before continuing. ‘… When he was courting your mother. They made a lovely couple.’
‘Thank you,’ she gulped, holding back her tears.
‘It was a long time ago now, but I can still see your mother’s beautiful smile. It could light up the darkest day. Everyone said so. Dainty little thing she was, just like you. Oh dear, miss. Have I made you cry?’
‘It’s all right,’ sniffed Mabel quickly. ‘I like it when people tell me their memories. It makes me feel as though she’s still here.’
The farmer made the sign of the cross on his chest. ‘God bless her soul and that of your little sister. Now would you like me to accompany you back to the Old Rectory?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll be fine. I like the fresh air.’
‘Just like your mother.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘Well, I’ll be getting on with my jobs then. It might be Christmas Day, but the animals still need feeding.’
Mabel walked on, lost in her thoughts about Mama and what she must have been like as a young girl.
‘Hello,’ said a foreign voice.
Mabel almost jumped out of her skin. Before her stood a young man with dark hair and moustache. Panicking, she realized that she’d missed the turn-off to the Old Rectory and had instead continued along the cliffs towards the huts.
