Chapter 10
For the next two nights, Mabel slept on the crowded floor of the town hall, arms clasped round her sister’s doll.
Then Aunt Clarissa arrived. She was younger than Mama, but much taller and not as smiley. Her long fur coat almost touched the ground while her mauve felt hat, perched to one side above her beautiful oval face, had a feather pointing up to the heavens.
‘I suppose you’d better come home with me,’ she said.
Mabel felt numb, as though she was here but not here. ‘But how will Mama and Annabel know where I am?’
Aunt Clarissa’s eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. ‘They’d have dug them out by now if they were still alive. I’m afraid we have to be realistic, dear.’
Mabel’s bones and teeth began to judder. ‘Can Lizzie come too?’ she whispered.
‘Who?’
‘Our maid.’
Her aunt raised her eyebrows as though Mabel had said something very stupid. ‘Do you think I can afford to feed two extra mouths? One is bad enough.’
‘It’s all right, love,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ll find another job.’
Reluctantly, Mabel followed her aunt into a large, shiny black car with a badge on the front that said ‘Morris 8 Tourer’. Her insides felt blown out, as if she had been hit by the bomb herself.
‘Do you think it hurt them?’ she whispered.
‘They wouldn’t have felt anything,’ came the crisp reply.
For a second, Mabel thought she saw a tear glisten in her aunt’s eye as she started the engine, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
‘Now go to sleep. It’s a long way to Devon. And don’t sit so close. You stink from that awful place you’ve been sleeping in.’
The journey seemed never-ending; down roads that then led into such narrow lanes that they brushed hedges on both sides. Only Polly the doll gave Mabel comfort. It was almost like cuddling Annabel herself. She was so soft and warm. This made her cry all over again.
‘For goodness’ sake,’ snapped her aunt. ‘Stop it. How am I meant to concentrate with that racket?’
Mabel had never been to her aunt’s house before, even though it had been Mama’s childhood home too. As far as she could remember, such a journey had never been suggested and her aunt rarely visited them in London.
Then they turned a corner and Mabel gasped. ‘Is that the sea?’
Despite her grief, she was mesmerized by the light glinting on the waves below. Mama had talked of swimming here when she was young. The thought made Mabel tearful again.
‘I can’t cope with any more of this,’ said her aunt curtly. ‘Everyone’s upset but it’s time you pulled yourself together. You’ve got the household to meet – the ones who haven’t gone off to fight, that is.’
They were driving down yet another long narrow lane, lined by pretty cottages and a pub called the Seabeast’s Head. ‘Just as well there isn’t any other traffic on the roads,’ said Aunt Clarissa. ‘I was only allowed to buy the petrol because you were an emergency.’
She took a sharp left before stopping abruptly at some high wooden gates; the name The Old Rectory was carved into a stone pillar.
‘Climb out and open them, will you?’
Then she drove through, leaving Mabel to run after her towards a large flight of stone steps and the biggest front door she had ever seen, with a knocker in the shape of a lion.
A girl in a blue-and-white gingham pinafore came running down, followed by two black dogs.
Mabel shrank back.
‘Jasper and Bunty won’t hurt you,’ said her aunt. ‘Come on now. Let’s get you inside.’
Her voice seemed a bit softer now. Maybe she was tired and sad for Mama too. After all, they had been sisters.
‘Where’s the luggage, ma’am?’ asked the girl, who looked about her age.
‘Unfortunately,’ said her aunt, ‘there isn’t any.’
‘But …’
‘Stop asking questions, Frannie. Just get my niece into the house. I’ve put her in the Red Room.’
Then Aunt Clarissa took a small silver flask out of her jacket pocket and tipped the contents down her throat. ‘That’s better,’ she muttered to herself. ‘God knows, I need something to get through this.’
It seemed Aunt Clarissa was definitely upset, despite her tough words. Mabel’s own tears began to flow again as she followed Frannie upstairs.
‘Is it true that the Germans got your mam and your baby sister in the Blitz?’ asked the girl, turning round.
‘Yes,’ sobbed Mabel.
‘Why didn’t they get you too?’
‘Because I was in the shelter with our maid. I wanted them to come but they wouldn’t.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘He’s away fighting Hitler.’
‘Well, you’ll be all right here. Just as long as the Krauts don’t come over in boats.’
‘How can they do that?’
‘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.