Page 101 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

He kisses his mother on the cheek and promises to come back soon.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ he says, taking my hand and shaking it. ‘Mam talks about you all the time. You and your grandfather. The man who taught her to play poker.’

‘Oh, he’s not…’ I begin to explain my relationship with Malcolm and quickly realise I’m not sure I can. I could say he’s my friend. Which would certainly be true, but it doesn’tseem to fit as quite the right explanation. In the short time I’ve known him I’ve grown to care about him in a way I’m not sure I’ve experienced before. I never met my grandparents; both sets were gone before I was born. But caring for Malcolm these past weeks is how I imagine it must feel to have a grandfather. Someone to fall asleep on the couch with on Christmas day as an overplayed Disney classic hums in the background. Someone to cook dinner for, or fly a kite with or fear that they’ll catch cold in the snow without a hat. Someone to worry about. Someone who the thought of them being ill fills you with dread.

I clear my throat and start over. ‘I’ll tell Malcolm your mam says hello.’

‘And happy new year,’ Vincy adds.

I nod. ‘Happy new year.’

All the visitors seem to leave in one swarm, and soon the wards are churchlike-silent. Ellie has fallen asleep, curled into a small ball on the plastic chair near MrsBrennan’s bed. I scoop her into my arms, tuck her close to me and breathe her in.

‘Good night,’ I whisper, although MrsBrennan and MrsMorgan are sleeping as soundly as Ellie and don’t hear me.

In the storage room, I tuck Ellie into the makeshift bed on the floor and cover her with blankets. The prosecco is pressing on my bladder and I’ve got to pee. I wait until Ellie turns on her side and sucks her thumb, soundly asleep, before I leave the room and close the door behind me.

I hurry in the loo, and I’m washing my hands when I hear faint crying. I cock my head towards the door, struggling to make it out over the sound of the water running. The water stops and my heart drops as I hear it clearly. Ellie!

I race out of the bathroom and down the corridor, but I’m too late. Ellie is in the hall. Her eyes are red and her shoulders are heaving as she cries hysterically. But worse than my distressedlittle girl is the woman standing beside her, holding her hand. Elaine!

‘You leaved me,’ Ellie cries, her voice breaking after each word.

My heart is beating furiously and inside my head is loud as I hear the swish-wallop of my blood racing through my veins. I paste on a smile, and try to ignore how my insides shake as I walk towards them.

‘I was just in the bathroom,’ I tell Ellie, and it comes out wobbly and high-pitched. I reach out an open hand and add, ‘C’mon on now, time to go.’

‘Heading home, are you?’ Elaine asks, cocking her head towards the double doors at the end of the corridor that lead out to the main part of the hospital.

‘Mm-hmm.’ I can just about manage to push sound out.

‘Because Ellie tells me she woke up and you were gone.’

‘Oh, yes, she fell asleep while we were visiting MrsBrennan and MrsMorgan.’

‘Mammy drinked protecco, but I’m not allowed any,’ Ellie says, wriggling free from Elaine’s grasp so she can jam her hands on her hips.

‘Oh really?’ Elaine asks, intrigued. ‘And is this while you were sleeping in the closet?’

Ellie giggles. ‘Noooo, silly. I goed to bed after.’

‘I…I…’ I choke. I am choking on air. I swallow hard and try again. ‘I can explain.’

Elaine raises an eyebrow with a face that tells me she’d love to hear me try.

‘Sometimes, Ellie naps in the closet. If I have to work late, and crèche is closed. I know it’s not ideal.’

‘Naps?’ Elaine says.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘For an hour or two,’ Elaine goes on.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘Right,’ she says, turning towards the storage room to open the door.

I grab Ellie by the hand and follow quickly.

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