Page 34 of The Stranger in Room Six

I queue up with the other women but am soon shoved to the back. It occurs to me that maybe this is a good thing. All the better for giving my fellow inmates a surprise.

‘Are you sure?’ says the hairdresser when I tell her what I want. ‘All of it shaved off? How about just a panel on either side? That’s quite popular.’

‘All of it,’ I confirm faintly.

The hairdresser shakes her head and mutters something about there being ‘all sorts’.

I close my eyes while she gets to work.

‘You can look now.’

A different woman looks back: me but not me. This one is a tough woman. One that won’t take any shit.

Yet I can’t help feeling a flood of dismay as I look down at the pile of auburn curls on the floor. How often had Imran run his fingers through my hair, when we’d been young?

Gerald had never done that, never held me in that way. Had he been saving that for Karen?

It doesn’t matter now. My husband is gone, along with the old me.

Feeling sick, I make my way towards the food hall. I pass the guards’ office. ‘Stop,’ orders one as he approaches, hand on his belt as if ready to blow his whistle. Then he stops. ‘Blimey. It’s you.’

Ignoring him, I keep going along the corridor. I tell my beating heart to stop fluttering. If you’re doing this, I tell myself firmly, you’ve got to do it properly. Scare the fuck out of them. Make them realize that the old Lady Belinda has gone.

Mouse’s instructions come into my head. ‘Harden your face, you’ve got to look the part.’

I set my jaw and march in. There’s no one else in the queue – I’m just in time.

Jac’s cellmate is dishing up and gives me a double-take. Then she recognizes me and hands me my usual small portion. It’s a watery cottage pie.

‘Make that a large,’ I demand without my usual ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.

‘You get what you’re given.’

‘You owe me in arrears,’ I growl. ‘Now give me that large.’

‘Or else?’ she snorts.

I pat my head. ‘Or else I’ll make sure you get a haircut like this in your sleep.’

She looks as if she’s going to say something but instead, she slams an extra two spoonfuls onto my plate.

I taste it. ‘Not hot enough,’ I say. Your food is tepid. Put it in the microwave.’

To my amazement she does.

‘Better,’ I say. ‘And next time I expect faster service.’

Then I turn to face the sea of faces. Some are heads down, gobbling like animals at a trough. Others are staring.

Jac is sitting at the first table – the best spot nearest the radiator. She’s talking quietly to the woman next to her but looks up when I approach.

‘Look at you now! Lost your curly locks have you, Lady Belinda?’

‘Get up,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘I said get up. Unless, of course, you want trouble.’

Jac’s mouth forms into a half-smile. ‘Piss off, Lady Belinda.’

‘No one tells me to piss off, Jac,’ I say quietly. ‘I’d be very careful if I were you.’

‘You don’t scare me,’ she scoffs.

‘I don’t need to,’ I whisper. ‘You’re scared already. Or you should be.’

I give a quick glance around. Then I tip my plate over her head.

‘Ugh,’ she screams.

‘So sorry,’ I say sweetly.

One of the guard marches over. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘I tripped trying to find my seat,’ I say. ‘Unfortunately, I dropped my plate.’

‘It’s all over me,’ screams Jac. ‘Move! I need to wash it out and change.’

‘You’ll sit where you are until dinner is over,’ says the guard. ‘And move up so Belinda can sit down.’

Grudgingly she does so, and I sit beside her. ‘Pity it’s not shower night for another two days,’ I say.

She stares at me.

‘Haven’t you heard? The hot water’s conked out again.’

‘But I can’t walk around smelling like this!’

She’s almost hysterical. One of the girls at the table sniggers.

‘Shut up,’ Jac snaps.

‘You don’t like getting dirty, do you? I must remember that.’

Jac scowls through the meat and potato caked on her face.

‘If you don’t like getting dirty,’ I add, ‘you’d better not play dirty. I know you’re the reason my daughter hasn’t been able to visit.’

It’s clear from her face that I’m right.

‘I’ll give you one more warning, Jac. If you do that again, you’ll be getting a lot worse than this. You might, say, wake up to find someone doing something to you that you’d rather not.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Just remember what money can buy. You’re right to call me Lady Belinda. I’ve got the means to get you in a lot of trouble if I want.’

She doesn’t need to know that I have no money; that Gerald had it all.

Jac’s glaring at me, then suddenly she’s up and in my face. I shove a chair between us and ram it hard against her. She falls awkwardly. There’s an audible snap followed by a terrible scream. ‘My arm,’ she yells. ‘My arm. It fucking hurts!’

‘What’s happening here?’ says a guard running up.

‘She fell over a chair,’ I say firmly.

‘Is that right?’ the guard asks Jac.

She looks at me. Fear is in her eyes. It’s in my heart too, although I can’t show that.

She nods.

The next day, Jac is shipped out to another prison. And that’s when I know I’ve won: no one will get on the wrong side of me, in case I hurt them too.

The old Belinda has well and truly gone.