Page 45 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘It’s twoa.m.,’ Finton grumbles.

There’s some mumbling. I know Cora is whispering. And I know she’s choosing her words carefully. My stomach somersaults. It’s the third time this week that they’ve had an argument in the middle of the night.

‘I will not keep my voice down,’ Finton whines.

There’s some shushing and more mumbles.

‘I don’t care if she hears me,’ he continues. ‘It’s my bloody flat.’

‘Finton, please?’ Cora says, raising her voice to cut him off. ‘Things are already hard enough for her.’

‘Well, she should have thought about that before she got herself knocked up by a married man.’

‘She didn’t know Declan was married,’ Cora snaps, her voice growing louder.

‘Sure,’ Finton snaps back. ‘They never do.’

Gentle snores vibrate from Ellie’s floppy body and I’m so grateful that she’s finally in a deep sleep. I keep my hands firmly on her ears and wait for Finton and Cora to go back to bed the way they usually do.

But Finton keeps talking. He’s calmer now. Not as loud, but he’s still mad. His voice is jumping around and I guess he’s pacing.

‘Ten days, Cora. Those two have been here for ten bloody days,’ he says. ‘You told me it would be a couple of nights.’

‘I know. I know,’ Cora says.

I can hear the flop of bare feet against the timber floor as one of them takes exaggerated strides. ‘Am I ever getting my damn couch back?’ Finton grumbles. ‘I couldn’t even watch the match tonight cos the kid was asleep.’

‘They have nowhere else to go.’

‘And how is that our problem?’

‘She’s my best friend, Finton.’

The pacing stops and Finton calmly says, ‘Exactly.Yourbest friend. Yours, Cora. Not mine. And don’t get me started on the kid.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

Finton groans deeply. ‘Look. I get this is tricky for you, but when I asked you to move in I thought I was asking to live with my girlfriend. Not my girlfriend, her best friend and her best friend’s kid. It’s a one-bedroomed flat. It’s a little cramped, you know. She needs to find her own place. Stand on her own two feet for once.’

‘I’ll talk to her, okay?’

‘Okay.’ His tone softens. ‘Good. Thank you.’

‘She just needs a bit more time?—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Finton grunts. ‘I’m going back to sleep.’

SEVENTEEN

I watch Ellie sleep for a long time. I can’t remember the last time she slept so soundly. The irony hurts as I glance at the bags of our stuff under the coffee table. I packed everything up during the night. I couldn’t sleep anyway. As ever, our stuff fits into a couple of Tesco plastic bags. The big ones withbag-for-lifewritten across the bottom. Although, the writing on one of the bags is fading now, and saysbag-for-if. My heart aches as I read the words that so accurately sum up Ellie and me. Bag for if. If your boyfriend is a liar. If your father is a cheat. If you’ve nowhere to go and no one to turn to. If you’re scared. If only it was all so different.If!

I wipe the tear that trickles down the side of my nose, paste on a wide smile and wake Ellie.

‘C’mon, sweetheart,’ I whisper, kissing her cheeks. ‘It’s a beautiful day.’

My daughter turns away from me and tucks her knees close to her chest as she snuggles her favourite teddy. Sir Loves-a-lot is missing one eye and the patch just below his ear on the same side is hugged threadbare. But Ellie loves him nonetheless. I do too. Because on the days when it’s hardest and I worry that I can’t keep going, Ellie asks me if I want to hug Sir Loves-a-lot.The three of us snuggle together and in that moment, just for a moment, everything feels okay.

‘My tummy hurts,’ Ellie whispers, with her eyes still closed, and when she wrinkles her nose her puffy round cheeks scrunch.

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