Page 96 of The Stranger in Room Six

Of all the scenarios I’ve imagined (Karen marrying again; Karen moving abroad; Karen dying), this one has never crossed my mind.

I think back to when I saw her in the street, just after I pushed Gerald.

She looked at least ten to fifteen years younger than me, which would put her in her early fifties now.

Yet I know that dementia can strike people earlier and earlier these days.

I Google the home, which appears to be in Devon. There’s an advert running down the side, looking for staff. I know that I can’t apply until I’ve passed my probation. So I wait.

I become a model ex-prisoner. Then, when the time is up, I apply.

Sunnyside seems desperate for staff: I’m interviewed on the phone and then asked to provide a DBS certificate to show I have a clean record.

What am I going to do? Then I remember the forger whom I’d helped as a Listener in prison.

She had insisted on giving me her phone number ‘in case you ever need it’.

She’s been released now and is happy to oblige for a fee.

My DBS certificate duly arrives. I send it off to the home, convinced they’ll realize it’s a fake.

But within days, an email pings to say I have been successful in my application for a job as a carer.

It’s as simple as that.

Now

Mabel’s expression is as though someone has just stolen her last chocolate ginger biscuit, only to give her a whole packet instead.

‘Karen Greaves? That woman who throws food at people one minute and is all sweet the next, is your Karen?’

I flinch. ‘Not mine.’

‘Your husband’s, then. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound insensitive.’

Not for the first time, I’m wondering why I’ve laid my soul bare to someone I barely know. Yet maybe that’s why; it’s a relief to tell someone who doesn’t seem to judge me. Besides, I do know Mabel, in a way, through her stories.

‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ says Mabel. ‘I think it was meant to be that you found Karen and then almost immediately there was a job going here at Sunnyside. Fate can be very clever sometimes.’

Her eyes sparkle with interest. ‘I was watching you with her last week. I noticed that when she reached out her hand for support, you didn’t want to take it. I thought it was out of character, but now I know she was the woman who had gone off with your husband, I understand.’

Mabel may be almost ninety-nine but she’s frighteningly quick on the uptake. Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that why you came here with that fake certificate of yours? To hurt Karen?’

‘I want to talk to her,’ I say, skirting round the question. ‘I need to know every single detail, such as when their affair started and if she really had a child. Recently, she said she didn’t have any.’

‘Maybe she’s just confused.’

‘Does she have any visitors?’

‘I haven’t seen any,’ says Mabel. ‘Then again, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have family. There are plenty here who just get dumped.’

I’ve seen it. Some of the residents get jealous when they don’t get visitors and others do. It’s impossibly sad to watch.

‘Do you know what I would do if I found Karen when she’s a bit more with-it?’ asks Mabel.

‘What?’

‘I’d ask her to tell me why she had an affair with your husband. There’s usually a reason behind someone’s actions.’

‘Hah,’ I scoff. ‘Clearly, she saw Gerald as a money machine and zoned in. The fool fell for it – he even left her the house in his will.’

Mabel tilts her head quizzically, suggesting I might want to think twice. ‘You could be surprised,’ she says. ‘People don’t always act in the way you might think. Now, what are we going to do about Imran?’

We?

‘You’re getting older,’ she continues. ‘If you don’t allow yourself to be loved now, will you ever?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Send him your address and phone number,’ commands Mabel, patting my hand. ‘You need to take that leap. Listen to what happened to me next, and you’ll understand.’