Page 94 of The Stranger in Room Six
‘It isn’t that simple.’
‘Go on,’ she says, leaning forward in her wheelchair.
I’m reluctant to say more, but the weight of Mouse’s threat feels more terrifying than ever. If I can get to the bottom of Mabel’s story, it might just save me. But to do that, I have to share even more.
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Mouse is dead? Funny, scary Mouse is actually dead? And Linda Wall too.
Linda’s friends will want revenge. They’ll do what Linda had threatened. Hurt my girls.
There’s only one course of action I can think of.
‘I need to see the governor,’ I say.
‘Why?’
‘I can’t say.’
The officer must suspect something because she makes a call immediately. ‘She’s in a meeting so it will need to wait until the morning.’
It can’t wait. I need to ring my brother-in-law. To warn him that my daughters may be in danger. ‘I have to make a call,’ I say.
She allows me to use her phone. I call Derek but it goes through to answerphone. ‘May I try two other numbers?’
I get voicemail for both girls.
I toss and turn all night in the San. Then, at around 10 p.m., someone is admitted with a ‘stomach ache’.
It’s one of Linda Wall’s friends. I’m sick again, this time with fear.
When the nurse goes out briefly, she comes to my bed.
‘Linda might be dead,’ she growls, ‘but the threat still stands.’
In the morning, I’m summoned to the office, where the governor’s eyes bore into me. ‘What do you know?’
‘Linda threatened to hurt my girls and Mouse defended me. Now I’m worried that Linda’s contacts on the outsidewill take revenge on my daughters. They need protection.’ I look at her pleadingly. ‘Please help me.’
The governor sighs. ‘It’s not as straightforward as that, Belinda. We simply don’t have the resources to put a guard on every inmate’s house because of an argument in prison. But I’ll see what I can do.’
That night I weep for Mouse. I can’t help it. She was my only friend in here. She helped me navigate through this crazy world I’ve found myself in.
I can’t help but wonder if crying for her is the right thing to do. Someone out there – maybe more than one person – is dead because of her. And yet, in my own way, I loved her.
What kind of woman has prison turned me into?
I’m so upset that I find myself picking up a pen.
Dear Imran,
I can’t describe how awful it is in here. Please don’t write any more. I’m not the woman I used to be. Don’t wait. I can never make you happy.
Belinda.
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Now
