Page 42 of The Stranger in Room Six
Jac gives me a look that chills me to my bones. ‘You’re in trouble now. Better watch out, Lady Belinda.’
Then she stands up, tips my plate of pasta upside down on the table and walks out. The guards don’t seem to have noticed.
My teeth are chattering so hard that I can feel the bottom jaw clashing against the top.
What can I do? If I report Jac, she’ll deny it and maybe say I was hiding my own ‘gear’, as they call it. Then it occurs to me that I could go to the chaplain – I’ve seen the notice outside his door, inviting people to make an appointment. I’ve never really been a church person apart from at Christmas when we’d go to Midnight Mass. The very thought of us all being together, not that long ago, physically hurts.
For a couple of minutes, I hover outside the chaplaincy door. Finally summoning up the nerve, I knock. There’s no answer. That’s that then. God doesn’t want to help me either. I’m in this alone.
For the next few days, I keep my head down, watching out for everyone who comes near in case I’m attacked. Thursday passes. Friday. Saturday. Then Sunday, which is always the quietest day, with limited staff available.
Jac has been ignoring me but at least there haven’t been any more outbursts. Maybe it will be all right after all.
That afternoon, I go into the canteen for tea. No one greets me. Most of the others are huddled together in groups, casting hostile looks at anyone who’s on their own or whom they’ve taken against for whatever reason.
As I queue, I wonder what my daughters are doing now. In Elspeth’s last letter, she said that Uncle Derek was being very kind. Perhaps they’ve just had Sunday lunch round the table together like we all used to do?
‘Take that,’ mutters someone, cutting through my thoughts.
Looking back, I don’t know how I acted so quickly. Yet in that split-second, seeing the woman with the tray of steaming tea, I realized she was going to throw it at me.
Instinctively, I push the tray back, in mid-air, towards my attacker.
There’s a terrible scream as the contents fall on her. ‘Christ! It’s fucking boiling! Help me someone. HELP ME!’
I watch in horror as the woman’s skin begins to bubble.
‘GET IT OFF ME!’ she yells, screeching like a pig in the slaughter.
‘No chance of that,’ mutters someone. ‘Sugar sticks to the skin.’
I don’t know what to do. The woman’s face is melting like a candle before my eyes. A deafening alarm is ringing. People are screaming and rushing around in confusion.
‘Who did this?’ demands a guard storming in.
Jac stands up. She’s pointing to me. ‘Her. Lady bloody Belinda.’
27
The guard marches me to a door that says Governor Number Two. It’s in a part of the prison that I haven’t been to before. It’s cleaner, tidier, almost like an office. It’s the first room I’ve seen here that doesn’t have bars on the windows.
‘Sit down,’ says the governor. ‘I want to know exactly what happened.’ Her voice isn’t pleasant but it’s not hostile either. She’s wearing pale pink lipstick and I realize how much I miss small things like this, which I once took for granted.
I try to pull myself together. Everything depends on this. ‘I knew that woman was going to throw hot tea at me so I shoved the tray back towards her.’
It’s as though my words belong to someone else.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was an accident,’ I add, aware that this sounds like an excuse.
The governor’s grey eyes remain fixed on mine with a steady, unfaltering gaze.
‘How did you know she was going to throw the tea at you?’ asks the governor coolly.
‘Because I’d been told to watch out.’
‘Watch out for what? And by whom?’
My body begins to shake all over. ‘I can’t say. I’ll get into trouble.’
