Page 23 of The Stranger in Room Six
Belinda’s expression darkens, and Mabel can’t help but think there might be more to this woman than meets the eye. How intriguing!
‘Well, why don’t you tell me a bit about your life too?’ Mabel probes.
‘It’s pretty dull, really.’
‘I’ll bet it isn’t.’
A flush crosses Belinda’s face, confirming Mabel’s suspicions.
This is far more interesting than any of Butlins Bill’s games! It would certainly pass the time to find out more about the new carer. She seems different from the others, though Mabel can’t pinpoint why.
‘I tell you what,’ says Mabel, ‘How about we each tell the other a bit about our lives? No one needs to go into things that they don’t want to, but it’s a way to pass the time. It will make a nice change to talk to someone younger. How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking? I know Butlins Bill said it was rude to ask but I like to be straight about such matters.’
‘Sixty-four.’ Belinda flushes as she speaks.
‘Hah! You’re a spring chicken. I’m going to be ninety-nine on July the 12th, the day of the summer barbecue.’
‘Ninety-nine. Wow! You don’t seem it. What’s your secret?’
Mabel touches her cheeks. ‘I never listen to the news because it’s too upsetting. I try to get as much fresh air as I can, even though I need a wheelchair outside. And I make my own facemask from honey and oatmeal. I learned that tip in a woman’s magazine back in the fifties.’
‘That’s amazing. You could put that in your story.’
‘You start yours first,’ Mabel says firmly.
‘We have to promise that we won’t tell anyone,’ Belinda says, sounding nervous.
‘Naturally.’ As for her own past, Mabel tells herself, she’ll share the ‘small stuff’, as they say nowadays, but the big secret she’ll keep to herself. Wild horses won’t drag that out of her. It’s more than her life is worth.
She claps her hands. ‘Let’s go then!’
Mabel has a delicious feeling that Belinda, with a slightly haunted look on her face, has got her own secrets too. She can’t wait.
15
And so, their stories began. They talked in Mabel’s room; they talked during walks through the gardens; sometimes they even talked in low voices in the canary-yellow library, surrounded by shelves of Rosamunde Pilcher and Maeve Binchy.
At first, the pace was somewhat halting, each of them being slightly nervous but also determined not to reveal too much. Mabel described the horror of searching in the rubble for her mother and sister, followed by her new life with her aunt.
‘You poor thing,’ said Belinda. She was so taken aback that somehow she found herself describing the shock of Karen’s phone call and the terrible events that had led to her pushing Gerald.
Mabel’s eyes had widened. ‘You should have explained it was an accident.’
‘I did,’ said Belinda, ‘but my lawyer still said it was manslaughter.’ Then she went rather pale. ‘But, please, you mustn’t tell anyone. Remember what we agreed?’
‘Of course, I won’t. But does the manager know you were in prison?’
‘No.’ Belinda went bright red. ‘I contacted someone I knew inside who was a professional forger and she made me a fake DBS certificate.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It says I don’t have any criminal convictions amongst other things.’
Mabel shivered. What would the law say if her own crime was discovered? Was it possible to send a nearly ninety-nine-year-old to prison?
Belinda, meanwhile, cursed herself for telling her story so readily. Was it because of nerves or because she wasn’t very good at telling lies? Now, if Mabel blabbed, Belinda would lose her job – something she needed for reasons that no one would understand.
‘You don’t have to worry, you know,’ Mabel said, noticing the concern on her companion’s face. ‘I like you and I want you to stay. Besides, I own this place. They have to do what I want.’
