Page 25 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Chickpea, we’re finished playing now. No more hiding, okay? Come on out.’

My heart is thumping so hard it’s almost painful as panic rises inside me.

‘Ellie. Oh God, please, Ellie, where are you?’

When she doesn’t answer, I run into the hall shouting her name.

‘Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.’

I race through the corridors of various wards. I don’t care if it’s patients’ quiet time. I am like a foghorn repeating my daughter’s name over and over and over.

I’m such an idiot, I tell myself as I race down flights of stairs and search the next floor.Why couldn’t I just take the day off work like Alannah told me to? Why did I think I could hide a four-year-old in a closet all day? I’m an idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

I’m sweating when I reach reception and I can’t tell if I’m crying or if it’s beads of perspiration racing down my cheeks.

‘Órlaith,’ I shout, across the whole reception area where people are patiently queuing to speak to her.

She looks up when she hears me and, seeing my face, she stands up and asks, ‘What? What is it?’

‘Ellie. Have you seen Ellie?’

‘Your daughter?’ she asks, as I realise Ellie and Órlaith have never met. Órlaith wouldn’t know if she saw her or not.

‘She’s here somewhere,’ I just about manage to say, before my voice breaks. ‘She’s run off. She’s all alone. Oh God, Órlaith. She’s only four.’

‘Hang on. Hang on,’ Órlaith tells me as if I might run off before she reaches me.

She steps out from behind her desk. No one in the queue seems to argue. All eyes are on me. Each stranger looks at me with pity. As if they understand my fear.

‘Where could she be?’ I pant, bending in the middle as Órlaith reaches me. ‘She’s not upstairs. I looked everywhere. Where would she go?’

Órlaith can’t possibly have answers for my questions, but yet she is calm and I can see on her face that she is formulating a plan. My stomach turns with distress and if there was anything more than a couple of mouthfuls of rice pudding inside it, I think I would be sick.

‘Let’s call security. They’ll look around. And they can check the cameras.’

I nod. I hadn’t thought about the security cameras.

‘I mean, how far could she get?’ Órlaith says, so calmly it’s almost soothing. ‘She only has little legs.’

I think about how tired Ellie’s legs were on the walk to the hospital this morning and I hope she is still much too tired to wander far. Suddenly I am cursing the long nap she took earlier.

Frank, an elderly security guard with a thick grey moustache and round, black-rimmed glasses, jots down a description of Ellie. And Flint, his young colleague who looks like he should definitely still be in school, hurries away to check the security tapes.

Órlaith offers to fetch me tea or coffee from the vending machine but I can’t stomach a sip.

‘Excuse me,’ a voice with a hint of an American twang says behind us.

Órlaith raises her hand as if she’s double-jobbing as security. ‘Now is not a good time, sir.’

‘But—’

‘It’s patients’ quiet time,’ she snaps. ‘Visiting hours resume at three.’

‘Oh, it’s not that, it’s?—’

‘Mammy,’ Ellie calls out with delight. ‘Hello, Mammy.’

I look up and see a smartly dressed man with a warm winter coat and brown hair, with my daughter on his hip.

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