Page 45 of The Stranger in Room Six
Another letter arrives from Imran:
Please don’t throw this away. If you won’t let me visit, I want you to hear my words. I can’t even imagine what it’s like in there. You must be so scared. Just remember who you are, Belinda. You’re kind and good. Try to think of nice things if you can. Remember how we used to cycle to The Trout for lunch on Sundays? You were always faster than me! Then those afternoons making love. Real love, Belinda. I haven’t felt anything like it since. Something tells me that you haven’t, either …
I screw it up and put it in the bin. How ironic that Imran thinks I’m kind and good when Mouse is telling me that the only way I can survive is to be tough and scary. Which one am I?
A week goes by. Every evening, I queue up to speak to Elspeth on the communal phones, but each time I’m blocked out. They’re all in on it, elbowing their way in before me. Jac has clearly given them orders.
On Friday when it happens again, I burst into tears. ‘I need to talk to my daughters,’ I sob.
‘Poor diddums,’ scoffs Jac, hovering nearby. ‘Needs to speak to her daughters, does she? What about the one who won’t have anything to do with you?’
I flinch. How stupid of me to have confided in Jac. She’d been sympathetic at the time but now it’s obvious I was being groomed to be one of her gang.
‘The thing is, Lady Belinda, we don’t care if you want to speak to your daughter. In fact, we’re going to make sure that you can’t. And don’t even think about reporting us. We can do worse than hot water and sugar.’
Why isn’t there an officer around to hear any of this?
Visiting day comes and everyone’s in the hall, meaning the phones are finally quiet. At last, I can ring Elspeth.
‘But Ididapply, Mum. They said you didn’t want to see me.’
‘Darling, that’s not true. You must believe that.’
Then the line goes dead before Elspeth can say any more. My credit has run out.
Sobbing, I run back to my cell. Mouse is there, sitting cross-legged on her bunk, reading a Margaret Drabble novel that I remember from book club a few years ago. ‘I told you,’ she says when I explain in tears and gasps what happened. ‘They’re all in it together. That guard is well in with Jac. They look after each other.’
‘What do you mean? How?’
‘Dear Belinda. You really are naive, aren’t you? The guard gets her phones, ciggies and drink. And in return, she … Well let’s just say Jac gives her some emotional and physical support.’ Mouse says the last with a wink.
‘But she has no right to tell my daughter she can’t visit.’
‘Well, you can’t prove it. But you can make a stand.’
‘How? I’d do anything to speak to my girls.’
‘At last! You’re beginning to see reason.’ Mouse jumps up, taking a notebook from the desk. ‘I’ve drawn up a plan. It’s in shorthand, of course, so no one else can read it. My own variation of teeline, dating back to 1979.’
I can’t mask my surprise. ‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘Once upon a time, I lived a respectable life with a well-paid job. But then I put poison in my boss’s tea.’
‘Very funny.’
‘I mean it. She was a right old cow. But when she accused me of helping myself from the petty cash tin – when we all knew it was her – I saw red. I only meant to give her a stomach ache but, unfortunately, I overdid it. She’s buried not far from here, actually.’
I take a step back as she continues. ‘Now listen carefully, Belinda. Every three months, the mobile hairdresser visits. In fact, perfect timing – they’re due next week. This is what I suggest …’
30
I queue up with the other women but am soon shoved to the back. It occurs to me that maybe this is a good thing. All the better for giving my fellow inmates a surprise.
‘Are you sure?’ says the hairdresser when I tell her what I want. ‘All of it shaved off? How about just a panel on either side? That’s quite popular.’
‘Allof it,’ I confirm faintly.
The hairdresser shakes her head and mutters something about there being ‘all sorts’.
I close my eyes while she gets to work.
