Page 70 of The Stranger in Room Six
I go cold. ‘I’m not hurting her.’
‘I’m not asking you to. Not unless she refuses to help. She has something that I need. A list of names hidden somewhere in her room; an historic piece of intel. You’re going to find it and bring it to me.’
‘A list of names? Why is it so important?’
‘It’s a matter of national security. You don’t need to know more. Just find it and get it to me. And make sure she’s none the wiser.’
‘It might help if I knew what I was looking for,’ I urge.
She hesitates. ‘Fine, but I’ll slit your throat if you reveal this to anyone else.’
‘I promise,’ I say in a small voice.
‘During the Second World War, there were some members of the British public who wanted Hitler to win because they thought he’d make Britain “great again”. Apparently lists of these sympathizers were made in each county so that they could be observed and, when the war ended, possibly “taken care of”.’
‘Taken care of?’
‘Imprisoned, executed, whatever,’ Mouse says, waving her hand vaguely. ‘But a lot of them weren’t caught, and nowcertain peopleneed to ensure that their relatives aren’t on that list. It would beveryembarrassing for them, don’t you think?’
‘But it was so long ago.’
‘Mud sticks. So does blood. The list for this part of the county seems to have gone missing, and we think Mabel has it.’
‘Why would you think that?’ I can’t help picturing the Mabel I know: her kind eyes and soft demeanour.
‘Because her aunt and her aunt’s lover were in on it. There’s a high chance it was passed to Mabel when they died.’
Slowly, it sinks in. The war work that Mabel had described. The ‘red-and-black pattern’, which sounded like a swastika to me.
‘Was Mabel involved too?’ I ask, barely able to hide the concern in my voice.
‘Possibly.’
‘If she was,’ I say staunchly, ‘I don’t believe she did it intentionally. She was only a child.’
Mouse bats away my words. ‘Simply get that list off her and bring it to me.’
‘How am I meant to do that? I can’t walk in and take it!’
Mouse rolls her eyes. ‘Use your initiative, Belinda. Spend as much time as you can with the old bird. Listen to her stories; dose her up with sleeping tablets and go through her wardrobe, her drawers, anywhere she could hide something. It might just be a scrap of paper. I don’t care how you do it. All I know is that if I don’t have that list in my hand before July the 12th, someone’s going to die. And you don’t want that to be you.’
I feel the blood draining from my face. ‘July the 12th … Isn’t that the day of the party?’
‘That’s the deadline I’ve been given. Now don’t stand there. Get going. I want you to report to me on a daily basis. You can find me in Room Six.’
Mouse hobbles up to me and grasps my hand so tightly that her nails pierce my skin. ‘If you treasure your girls, I suggest you get cracking.’
45
It’s like being back in prison all over again. How ironic that Mouse nearly died for me. And now she’s the one threatening both me and my girls.
I love Mabel. I can’t help it. I’ve grown genuinely fond of this brave, vulnerable girl who has grown into an eccentric and feisty old lady.
But my daughters clearly have to come first. So the following day, feeling like a traitor, I arrive at Mabel’s room, armed with a packet of chocolate ginger biscuits: her favourite.
‘How lovely,’ she says. ‘Please sit down here.’ She pats the chair next to hers.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘You know, I’ve been dying to find out what happened after the Colonel was taken away.’
