Page 32 of The Stranger in Room Six

When I return to my wing, it’s ‘association time’, which is prison talk for leisure time.

A group of women are huddled round a television, watching a series in which couples agree to marry each other before even meeting.

Most of these women are in what I think of as friendship gangs, but I haven’t been included (not that I’d want to be) so I take a seat on the outside of the ring.

‘You silly bitch,’ squeals the young girl opposite my cell. ‘Don’t do it!’

‘Are you kidding,’ squeaks another. ‘He’s a hunk. I’d give him bed-space any day.’

I walk as fast as I can, but Jac steps out and pushes me against the wall. There’s no sign of an officer.

‘Did you tell the governor about the coke in the sheets?’ she snarls.

‘No.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Her elbow is pressing against my throat. I’m gasping for air. ‘I promise.’

A bell rings out, marking the end of association time. Jac moves backwards. ‘You’d better not be lying, or there’ll be another present coming for you.’

‘Jac! You’re on kitchen duty. Get moving.’

It’s one of the guards. Thank goodness! He turns to me.

‘As for you, Lady Belinda, we’d better look out for you, hadn’t we?

Even your cellmate doesn’t want to share with you any more.

Someone who’s killed her husband and scarred one of the ladies here for life?

No thanks. She’s requested a move, so you’ve got someone else.

This one’s been inside for a very long time.

You won’t get the better of her, I can tell you.

She’s called Mouse. Funny how names can be misleading, isn’t it? ’

My new cellmate has long pale hair that reaches her waist. She could pass for a child if it wasn’t for the criss-cross age lines on her face, which, I’d say, put her anywhere between forty and fifty-five.

Mouse has a row of soft toys lining the edge of her bed. She looks as though she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

‘Good afternoon,’ she says, extending a hand, as if we’re at one of those boring golf lunches Gerald used to take me to.

‘Good afternoon,’ I reply, surprised by the courtesy.

‘Please, sit down.’

She waves to the bottom bunk, which is apparently now mine. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I’ve changed it around. I can’t sleep underneath someone else. Gives me claustrophobia.’

Something in Mouse’s voice tells me this is non-negotiable.

I perch awkwardly on the edge. She continues to stand.

‘I heard about the tea incident,’ she says, looking down at me. ‘Unfortunate, I have to say.’

‘It was an accident; I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.’

‘That’s why it’s unfortunate.’

There’s a chill in her voice that unnerves me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If you’re going to survive in this place, you don’t want to tell people you didn’t mean to hurt someone. You tell them it’s a warning message. You have to be bold. Strong. You need to make everyone scared of you. Otherwise, they’ll trample on you like a little ant. See?’

She thumps her foot on the floor, making me jump. When she lifts her shoe, I see a mangled red and black dot on the sole. ‘A ladybird,’ I cry. ‘You’ve squashed it.’

‘Just like you should have squashed that woman in the canteen. It would have sent out a message.’

‘But I’m not like that.’

Mouse laughs, an unexpected merry tinkle to it.

‘Of course you are. Why else are we inside? We stabbed a sister because she got into the sack with our man. We took a knife to our husbands because they threatened us with their broken beer bottle. We killed our children because their crying got on our nerves.’

I edge away. This woman is a psycho.

‘Actually, I didn’t do any of those,’ says Mouse. ‘But I’ve shared with women who have, and I know that you as good as pushed your husband to his death.’

‘But –’

‘No buts. The thing is, Belinda, I’ve been in the system long enough that I’ve learned how to work it. I had to, didn’t I? People trod on me because I’m small, so now I make them scared of me. And that is exactly what you’ve got to do. What happened in the canteen has already got the ball rolling.’

I need to get out of here. I don’t want to breathe this woman’s air.

‘You’ve got me wrong,’ I whimper. ‘I’m not a violent person. That’s just not me.’

‘Let me repeat myself,’ Mouse says, tossing back her hair.

‘You need to be tough if you’re going to survive this.

It’s no good saying it’s “not you”. You need to create a new Belinda.

A tough one. A scary one. Nasty, if necessary.

It’s the only way you’re going to get through.

And I can help you. Trust me. It’s the only way you’re going to leave this place with the same face that you came in with. ’