Page 80 of The Stranger in Room Six
As we pass the croquet lawn, Mabel leans forwards in her chair. ‘My aunt and the Colonel used to play there.’
‘Really? Did they have guests round to play with them?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, all sorts. I can’t really remember now. Why do you ask?’
‘I’m fascinated by the past, thinking of you growing up here.’
‘The past is gone,’ Mabel mutters.
‘But the memories stay, don’t they?’ I suggest gently.
‘Yes, I suppose they do. Both good and bad.’
I park her wheelchair by the side of the lake, where there’s a beautiful view to the sea.
‘See that cliff?’ says Mabel. ‘There’s a half-finished tunnel inside. It’s one of the places Antonio and I would go for privacy. We –’
She stops.
‘Go on,’ I say, sitting down beside her. ‘Please.’
52
Mabel
1943
Life was so confusing. Antonio was the enemy, wasn’t he? Yet she loved him! How she lived for the brief moments they spent together, usually out in the garden, where he would work while she made them a pot of tea to share.
Often, she found him humming to himself.
‘That’s a lovely tune,’ she said dreamily, when she came across him one morning.
‘It’s called “Bella Ciao”,’ he said. ‘The resistance sing it back home in defiance of Hitler. My brother wrote to tell me.’
‘Is he part of the resistance?’
‘Of course. My family does not want the Germans to win any more than you do.’
So if Antonio wasn’t the enemy after all, surely it was acceptable to be friends?
The following week, Antonio was instructed to work on one of Aunt Clarissa’s fields, some distance from the house. Cook had gone to collect the week’s rations, so no one saw her setting off with a flask of tea and a sandwich.
‘This is so kind of you,’ he said. As she handed the package over, his hand brushed hers.
A thrill went through her like an electric shock. Catching his gaze, it seemed he felt the same.
‘Taking that lad’s tea out to him in the fields again, are you?’ Cook said when she returned to the house later.
Mabel nodded, aware she was blushing.
‘Be careful, won’t you, love?’ Cook patted the kitchen chair next to her and Mabel sat down. ‘It’s none of my business but if your own dear mother was here, she might warn you about losing your heart to this good-looking lad. He’s a prisoner of war, love. And even if he wasn’t, you’ve got to be careful.’
Mabel jumped up, her face burning with embarrassment. ‘Of course I’m careful.’
