Page 46 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘You can look now.’
A different woman looks back: me but not me. This one is a tough woman. One that won’t take any shit.
Yet I can’t help feeling a flood of dismay as I look down at the pile of auburn curls on the floor. How often had Imran run his fingers through my hair, when we’d been young?
Gerald had never done that, never held me in that way. Had he been saving that for Karen?
It doesn’t matter now. My husband is gone, along with the old me.
Feeling sick, I make my way towards the food hall. I pass the guards’ office. ‘Stop,’ orders one as he approaches, hand on his belt as if ready to blow his whistle. Then he stops. ‘Blimey. It’s you.’
Ignoring him, I keep going along the corridor. I tell my beating heart to stop fluttering. If you’re doing this, I tell myself firmly, you’ve got to do it properly. Scare the fuckout of them. Make them realize that the old Lady Belinda has gone.
Mouse’s instructions come into my head. ‘Harden your face, you’ve got to look the part.’
I set my jaw and march in. There’s no one else in the queue – I’m just in time.
Jac’s cellmate is dishing up and gives me a double-take. Then she recognizes me and hands me my usual small portion. It’s a watery cottage pie.
‘Make that a large,’ I demand without my usual ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.
‘You get what you’re given.’
‘You owe me in arrears,’ I growl. ‘Now give me that large.’
‘Or else?’ she snorts.
I pat my head. ‘Or else I’ll make sure you get a haircut like this in your sleep.’
She looks as if she’s going to say something but instead, she slams an extra two spoonfuls onto my plate.
I taste it. ‘Not hot enough,’ I say. Your food is tepid. Put it in the microwave.’
To my amazement she does.
‘Better,’ I say. ‘And next time I expect faster service.’
Then I turn to face the sea of faces. Some are heads down, gobbling like animals at a trough. Others are staring.
Jac is sitting at the first table – the best spot nearest the radiator. She’s talking quietly to the woman next to her but looks up when I approach.
‘Look at you now! Lost your curly locks have you, Lady Belinda?’
‘Get up,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘I said get up. Unless, of course, you want trouble.’
Jac’s mouth forms into a half-smile. ‘Piss off, Lady Belinda.’
‘No one tells me to piss off, Jac,’ I say quietly. ‘I’d be very careful if I were you.’
‘You don’t scare me,’ she scoffs.
‘I don’t need to,’ I whisper. ‘You’re scared already. Or you should be.’
I give a quick glance around. Then I tip my plate over her head.
