Page 15 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘Because we’re on the coast, course. Look!’
Frannie pointed through the window. Beyond the garden, Mabel could see the sea, like a silver brushstroke in the distance. It felt as if the house was surrounded by water.
‘Don’t go too close. Part of the beach is mined to stop the Jerries getting up. If you want to go exploring, wait for me. I can tell you the safe bits. You don’t want to get blown up like …’
She stopped but it was too late. ‘Maybe your mother and sister survived!’ Frannie said instead, as if trying to make up for her lack of tact. ‘You hear all kinds of stories. There was a street near Dawlish that got a direct hit, but this woman stayed alive under the rubble for five days and she was all right.’
Mabel gasped. ‘Really?’
Supposing Mama and her little sister were trapped, desperately trying to breathe? What if someone had pulled them out and they were searching for her in London? They’d be frantic with worry. Why had she allowed Aunt Clarissa to bring her down here? She needed to go back.
Mabel turned and ran down the staircase.
‘Where are you going?’ thundered a voice.
It was Aunt Clarissa, standing at the foot of the steep wooden steps.
‘Mama and Annabel might still be there under those bricks or in a hospital. I should never have left them.’
Hysterically, she ran towards the door and tried to turn the large ring handle, but it remained resolutely in place.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ snapped Aunt Clarissa. ‘They’re dead. You just have to accept it.’
Then suddenly, the door opened, sending Mabel flying backwards onto the cold square flagstones.
A pair of tall, sturdy legs stood before her. ‘What’s going on here?’ asked a kind, deep voice.
Mabel scrambled to her feet and found herself looking up at a ruddy-faced man, who instantly reminded her of Papa, though he looked a lot younger.
‘You must be Mabel,’ he said, putting out his hand. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been through such a terrible time. It’s something that no child should experience.’
‘She’s not a child, Jonty. She’s fifteen years old.’
‘Come on, Clarissa. Cut her some slack. The poor girl’s stared death in the face.’
‘Aren’t we all doing that, every day of our bloody lives?’
‘Language, darling. Now stop panicking.’
‘I’m not. But how can I look after her when we’re so busy? We’ve got …’
He took her by the arm. ‘Not here,’ he said quietly. Then he reached into his pocket and brought out a sixpence. ‘Frannie,’ he said, ‘after lunch, why don’t you take Mabel to the sweet shop and then show her round the village?’
He pressed the coin into her hands as he spoke. ‘There’s a good girl.’
‘Who’s he?’ whispered Mabel to Frannie as the drawing-room door shut firmly, leaving them in the huge hall, alone with the dogs sniffing for food.
‘The Colonel. He lives in the manor down the lane. He’s a friend of your aunt’s.’ She winked. ‘A very good friend, if you know what I mean.’
No, but she didn’t like to say so.
‘He’s really Lord Dashland, but everyone calls him “the Colonel” because of his bravery in the last war. Now come on.Cook’s got a rabbit; I can smell it on the stove. Then we’ll buy some liquorice or toffee. What’s your favourite?’
Reluctantly, she followed. Despite what her aunt said, Mabel knew Mama and Annabel were still alive. She could feel it in her bones. Somehow, they would find each other. Papa would be home soon after beating the Germans and then life would return to normal again. All Mabel had to do was get back to London. If only she knew how.
11
Mabel was still working out her escape plan over breakfast – a solitary occasion at the long mahogany table with just Frannie in attendance – when there was a loud knock on the door.
