Page 26 of The Stranger in Room Six
I can hear my daughter sniffling at the other end and my chest goes into freefall because I have done this. I have caused this pain to her.
‘We’re OK, Mum, but what about you?’
‘I’m … I’m fine. Have you told school?’
‘Uncle Derek did. But everyone knew already, Mum.’
Of course they did. It will have raced round the school circuit like wildfire. It might even have been on the local news.
The officer looks at the wall clock meaningfully.
‘Are you managing?’ I say urgently. ‘Are you doing your homework?’
‘What do you think, Mum?’ retorts Elspeth, her voice distressed and high-pitched in a way that doesn’t sound like my kind, gentle, younger child.
I don’t know what to think about anything. But I know I have to try. There is the practical side to start with. ‘I’ve applied for you and Gillian to access our joint account, but it might take time.’
Elspeth cuts in. ‘It’s OK. Uncle Derek’s been goingthrough some of Dad’s paperwork and found an account with his and our names on it.’
‘Really? Did it have mine?’
There’s a short silence. ‘No.’
I gasp. Had he thought that if I found out about his affair, I’d clean him out?
‘Is there enough for you to live on?’
‘I think so. There’s £170,000.’
£170,000?
How had he put that much away? What exactly was he saving up for? Had he hoped that the girls would go with him when he moved in with this other woman?
‘You’ll need to know how to pay the bills … Keep the house going.’ I falter as I say this. Why hadn’t I insisted on being more involved with the financial side of our marriage? Gerald had always told me ‘not to worry’.
‘Uncle Derek’s helping; don’t worry, Mum. Do you need anything?’
I vaguely recall that I’m meant to fill in a form if I want to buy basic items like deodorant and a newspaper, but no one’s given it to me yet.
‘Yes. Toothpaste and a toothbrush please.’
Elspeth sounds shocked. ‘Don’t they give you any?’
‘You have to wait for everything here.’
‘Time’s up,’ says the guard.
‘They’re making me go now. I miss you, Elspeth, I’m so sorry for everything.’
‘Oh Mum, I miss you too. I would say “happy birthday” but …’
I’d forgotten. I’m forty-nine years old today, which means that if I get ten years, I’ll be nearly sixty by the time I finally get out of here. Tears prick my eyes. ‘Please tell your sister I love her too.’
That’s when another voice takes over. ‘It’s Gillian. I don’t want your love. You’re not my mother any more. Don’t try to contact me; I’ll never forgive you for killing Dad. Not ever.’
Then the phone goes dead.
I can’t get Gillian’s voice out of my head. My older daughter doesn’t love me any more and it won’t be long until she turns her sister against me too. My girls are my world. What’s the point in carrying on?
