Page 45 of The Stranger in Room Six

I don’t know how much time has passed.

The world is caving in, disguised as shrapnel fragments. Surrounding my body, my mind, my very self in a hideous whirlwind in which nothing feels right and everything wrong. Even Gerald’s death fades into insignificance. I’m hitting my head – no, slamming it – on the desk in front of me.

Alarms are ringing loudly. An officer runs in and pins me to the ground.

‘Which daughter?’ I yell. ‘For fuck’s sake, you must know.’

‘Let her go,’ says the governor. Her face is twisted with pity, which makes it worse. ‘I’m sorry, Belinda, but I don’t. The switchboard took the call and the operator has left now for the day.’

I’m aware of being helped back onto a chair. ‘Ring them,’ I pant, exhausted from my screaming. ‘You’ve got them down as my next of kin.’

As I speak, I wonder which one will pick up. Elspeth or Gillian. Whichever one is still able to speak …

‘We’ve already done that. Both are going through to voicemail.’

‘Then call my brother-in-law,’ I demand. ‘They live with him.’

‘We don’t have his number on your files.’

I used to know it. But the digits scramble over themselves in my head in panic.

I can’t even remember Derek’s address. My memory used to be so sharp.

‘What now?’ I implore. My anger has turned to desperation. ‘Sit here and wait until someone rings with more news?’

The governor’s face is even more hopeless than it was before. ‘I’m really not sure what else we can do.’

I try to get up again but my legs won’t carry me and I feel myself crashing to the ground.

I’m dimly aware of the governor calling out for help.

Of guards on either side helping me right myself.

Of women looking through the bars as we make our slow funereal-like procession along the endless corridors, through the double security gates on my wing and towards my cell.

‘What’s up with Lady Belinda?’ I hear someone say.

But all the time, possibilities are flashing through my head like the films Gerald used to make of the children when they were growing up.

I can see those images so clearly now. Elspeth with her sweet smile.

Gillian with her studious expression as she pored over her schoolwork.

‘What’s happened?’ asks Mouse when the guard sets me down on my bunk.

‘One of my daughters has been seriously injured,’ I whisper. ‘But they don’t know which one.’

Mouse whips round to face the second burly guard. ‘But you’ve got to bloody know,’ she growls.

‘Nothing to do with us, I’m afraid.’

Mouse spits on the ground. ‘Communication here is fucking awful. It’s more than that. It’s inhumane. Can’t you see the state this woman is in?’

They send in the chaplain. He’s a small man with eyes that don’t leave mine. ‘Would you like me to say a prayer with you?’ he asks.

‘She doesn’t want prayers,’ Mouse butts in. ‘She wants to see her daughters.’

‘I wouldn’t mind a prayer,’ I venture. Another picture is coming to mind. I see myself – a younger me – taking the girls to Sunday school. Days that now seem so simple. ‘Can you just say a few words?’

I catch two or three. Hope. Forgiveness. Salvation.

I reach out to tug his sleeve. He jumps back as if I’ve attacked him. ‘Please could you also ask God for both my girls to be all right.’

‘I will. Would you like me to pray for you too?’

I laugh hoarsely. ‘I’m beyond redemption. Now go. Please.’

‘But …’

‘You heard her,’ said Mouse fiercely. ‘Beat it.’

I sob all night in Mouse’s arms. She came into my bed when I started and couldn’t stop. Her warmth is comforting. Neither of us sleeps. She doesn’t say stupid things like ‘it will be all right’.

At about four in the morning, we hear a blood-curdling scream. It sounds as if it comes from a cell further down the wing.

Suddenly, there’s a click and the door opens. The governor stands there. I sit bolt upright. If she’s surprised to see Mouse lying next to me, she doesn’t show it.

‘We’ve had an update,’ she says. ‘It appears that the operator who took the message confused you with another prisoner. Linda Wall …’

‘My girls are safe?’ I whisper. ‘But how do you know? Suppose you’ve got it wrong?’

‘I kept ringing your daughters’ numbers until eventually they each picked up. They’d been at the theatre, apparently. Obviously, I had to explain the situation but I can assure you that both are perfectly safe and well.’

The wails down the corridor get higher and louder.

‘But Linda Wall’s daughter isn’t,’ I whisper.

‘I’m afraid it’s not good news,’ says the governor.

‘She’s dead?’ asks Mouse.

The governor stays silent.

‘You’re not allowed to say,’ Mouse says slowly. ‘But it’s clear as bloody daylight from your face.’

‘Oh God, that’s terrible,’ I say as the door closes behind her.

But Mouse is dancing round our cell.

‘Terrible?’ she repeats. ‘It’s bloody miraculous. Your girls are all right and that cow Linda has been punished. Don’t forget, she’s one of those bitches who made your life hell.’

‘I don’t care,’ I say quietly. ‘I don’t want anyone to have to go through the trauma of losing a child.’

‘Just count your bloody blessings that yours are safe. I’ve told you before, Belinda. You can’t afford to get soft in this place. Or they’ll kill you.’