Page 41 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Nothing important. I’m just excited for later. For yours and Ellie’s first night at our flat.’

‘Me too.’

Although I am more relieved than excited, but I love how excited she is.

‘Finton is working late so I thought maybe we could grab a takeaway and some wine and make it a girls’ night. Whatcha think?’

I wasn’t prepared to finance a takeaway and alcohol. But Cora is giving me a roof over my head; the least I can do is indulge her girls’ night.

‘Sure,’ I say, sounding even more chipper than before.

‘Oh. Great.’

She picks up on my extreme enthusiasm and I try to tone it down a bit.

‘Is Indian okay? I can pick some up on my way home from work. There’s a lovely place round the corner from here. What will you and Ellie have? I always go for the butter masala. It’s unreal.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say, although I have absolutely no idea. Declan didn’t like Indian food and I couldn’t splash out on takeaways when Ellie and I were alone.

‘Oh super, nice and simple if we’re all the same,’ she goes on. ‘And red or white wine?’

‘White please.’

‘White it is.’

There’s a pause, and I know I have to fill it with, ‘Let me know what I owe you and I’ll give it to you when I get there.’

‘It’s cool,’ she says, breezily. ‘Just send it to me whenever.’

I swallow. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have the financial security to pay out and not have to worry about the exact moment you will get the money back.

‘Anyway,’ she says in a singsong tone. ‘I better get back to work. I’ll see you later, roomie.’

‘Yeah. Later.’

She hangs up but I hear my name. The tone is clipped and I know when I turn round I will find Elaine behind me.

‘MrsBrennan has been sick,’ she says.

My heart sinks. MrsBrennan hasn’t eaten much in weeks. I finally saw her nibble some toast earlier. I’m so disappointed it hasn’t stayed down.

‘I was just on my way to wash the floors,’ I say, to reassure her that I’ll have the ward spotless as soon as possible.

‘With that?’ Elaine points to the colouring pencil in my hand.

‘Oh. Eh. No.’

‘Are some of the patients colouring?’ she says, arching her brows. ‘That’s good. I’ve heard colouring can be very therapeutic.’

‘Yes. I think so,’ I say, although I’ve never heard that. I make a mental note to bring Ellie’s pencils and colouring books to work. Maybe MrsBrennan and MrsMorgan might like to give it a go.

Elaine smiles and says, ‘Well, don’t let me keep you.’

I smile and try not to look like I would rather stick the colouring pencil through my eye than clean up yet more vomit from a ward floor.

FOURTEEN

At the crèche, I can’t find Ellie’s gloves. I ask other parents to check their children’s boxes, but no one finds them.

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