Page 20 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘I’m not a bloody child,’ says Mabel. ‘I don’t mean to be rude but if you can’t enjoy a decent drink at my age, when can you?’
The woman laughs again. It’s a warm, tinkling sound. ‘I take your point.’
‘I’ll have a bit more than that, thank you.’
‘Better not, don’t you think? It’s medication time shortly.’
‘Not for me. I refuse to be drugged like all the other old biddies in here. I’ve learned to grin and bear my pains like we did during the war. You had to get on with it then, you know.’
Mabel feels a tear begin to run down her cheek.
Belinda takes her hand again. ‘Is that what you were having a nightmare about?’
‘That and other things.’
‘Do you want to tell me about them? It can help to share. I’ve done quite a lot of listening in my time.’
Mabel hesitates briefly. ‘No, thank you. I’m quite all right.’
There’s a knock on the door. It’s the nurse on the drugs round. ‘I heard you shouting again, Miss Mabel. How about a little shot to make you feel better?’
‘You mean that bloody great needle that knocks people out? No thank you. I’ve told you that before.’
‘I think Mabel feels a bit brighter now, don’t you?’ Belinda says, her voice kind but decisive.
The nurse shoots her a look, as if to say, ‘Don’t interfere.’
‘Yes, I do,’ says Mabel firmly. ‘So you can take your medical wares away.’
The nurse’s eyes fall on the beaker by Mabel’s bedside. ‘Are you drinking enough water?’
‘Plenty, thank you. This flavoured stuff is absolutely delicious. Now please leave and shut the door after you.’
Then she turns to Belinda. ‘Thank you. The staff here drive me mad. All we need now is for bloody Butlins Bill to come in.’
‘Who?’
‘Haven’t you met him? He’s the activities manager. Tries to get us todothings all the time. Comes up with games, quizzes, paper flower making – although half of the poor sods here are too arthritic to fold a petal – and storytime sessions. Though I don’t mind those. If you sit at the back, you can catch forty winks.’
‘Butlins Bill, I assume, is a nickname?’
Mabel snorts with laughter. ‘One of my best! Apparently, he used to work for a bloody holiday camp. Sorry, I should tell you that I never used to swear.’
She takes a slug of whisky. ‘But the older I get, the less I care what I say. Well, up to a point, anyway. The other thing that gets me about Butlins Bill is that he’s always so jolly. You can’t miss him, always in his spotty red bow tie. My aunt would have considered that very bad form.’
As if on cue, there’s another knock on the door. A short man in a bowler hat and bow tie skips in.
‘There you are, Mabel!’ he booms as if surprised to find her in her own room. ‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere!’
Then he takes in Belinda and sweeps off his hat before giving a short bow. ‘You must be the new girl.’
Mabel makes a ‘come off it’ sound. ‘She’s hardly a girl. How old are you, Belinda? Fifty-odd? Fifty-five maybe?’
‘Now, now Mabel. It’s rude to ask a lady’s age, isn’t it? I was actually coming in to say that it’s time for Claudette’s concert. She’s going to sing us some old-time favourites.’
Mabel drains her glass. ‘Boring! Boring! I’ve heard them all before.’
‘Actually,’ says Belinda gently, ‘it might be fun, don’t you think?’
