Page 69 of The Stranger in Room Six
The Stranger in Room Six
‘Now let me in,’ I hiss, before anyone sees us.
Shaking, Belinda obeys.
‘You know,’ I say, ‘the thing about prison is that you never know who or what to believe. It doesn’t surprise me at all that people thought I was dead, including you. You must have thought it was highly convenient. You never really trusted me, did you?’
Belinda has the decency not to disagree.
‘I nearly did die, actually,’ I add. ‘It was touch and go. I was in hospital for months then they moved me to another prison. I only got out six months ago.’
‘What are you doing at Sunnyside?’ Belinda stammers.
‘I could ask you the same.’
‘I work here.’
‘I can see that. I suppose no one knows what sort of person you really are then, Lady Belinda.’
Silence.
‘I’m presuming you faked your DBS.’
Belinda looks scared. ‘I needed a job. But please don’t tell anyone.’
I love it when someone says that. It’s like an open invitation to blackmail. ‘Well, that’s convenient, as I may have a little job for you. But this one is a bit more complicated. Your life depends on this job. And maybe your girls’ lives too.’
‘No,’ she whimpers. ‘Please don’t hurt them.’
I glance meaningfully down at my walking stick. ‘My employer chose me for this job because I need the sort of help that you can only get in here. And that’s all thanks to you, Belinda. If you hadn’t neededprotecting, I wouldn’t be in this state. You owe me. And now I’m calling in the favour.’
‘All right, Mouse,’ she says in an ‘I know when I’m beaten’ voice. ‘Tell me what to do.’
44
Belinda
Mouse is still alive? I don’t believe it. Everyone said she was dead.
Then again, poor communication in prison is notorious. Staff aren’t allowed mobile phones, so they communicate through memos, landlines or the spoken word. It would have been quite easy for someone to tell someone else that Mouse had died in hospital and for it quickly to become fact.
Is it awful to admit that when I heard she was dead, I was relieved? Yes, she’d been ‘looking after me’ inside but we both knew that she’d expect payment one day – and I don’t mean hard cash.
Now that time has come.
Mouse (who has barely changed, aside from her unwieldy walk) has got me in a corner, well and truly trapped. She knows more about me than anyone else.
I can’t hand her in or refuse to do what she says or she’ll tell the home that I lied on my form. Then I’ll be out on my heels without achieving the one thing I came here to do.
Even worse, she might hurt my girls. She’ll know where they are. People like this woman have contacts. She can do anything.
She even refused to die.
I have to face facts.
‘OK, Mouse,’ I say. ‘You win. Tell me what to do.’
‘You’re friendly with Mabel Marchmont in Room Seven,’ she says.
