Page 49 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Good idea. Gosh, I went into town last night trying to pick up a few bits for my family Secret Santa. Ugh, never again. Place was thronged. Couldn’t wait to get out of there.’

‘Town is very busy, so I best get going, or I’ll be late.’

‘Um,’ Alannah says, making a face as she tilts her head to one side in a way that tells me I don’t want to hear whatever she’s going to say next.

‘Yes?’ I say, nonetheless.

‘Speaking of being late,’ she goes on, and all I can think about is how the bag in my left hand is slipping; it feels as if the handle is going to snap from the weight of all Ellie’s teddies. ‘I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ve had to put our late fee up.’

‘Oh.’

‘I know. I know. But nothing crazy. Just a tenner an hour.’

My eyes bulge. ‘That’s almost double.’

She shrugs. ‘Blame management. So, instead of fifteen euro, it’ll be twenty-five an hour. Or part thereof.’

‘Part of? So, if I’m ten minutes late, it’ll be twenty-five quid?’ I can feel my palms begin to sweat.

‘Management.’ She shrugs again, wincing as if it pains her to share this information.

‘But the buses are a joke. They’re always a few minutes late. Last week I waited thirty minutes and then it passed by me full.’

‘I know, traffic is awful, isn’t it? But it is what it is. At least this way, staff are compensated. You’ll be glad to hear it all goes straight to them.’ She shrugs once more and the tic makes me want to scream. ‘And at this time of year every penny counts, you know yourself.’

You know yourself.It’s a generic phrase. But I doubt Alannah knows just how much every penny counts for Ellie and me. Or I certainly hope not, at least.

‘I better go,’ I say, swallowing.

‘Of course. Of course. Have a good day. See you at six.’

‘See you at six,’ I say, panicking that 6.01 will cost me twenty-five euro that I don’t have.

NINETEEN

The snow is at least five inches thick, or as MrsBrennan would say twelve centimetres, and it plays havoc with traffic. I’m late for work and, in spite of the cold snap outside, I am sweating when the bus pulls up at the hospital stop.

‘Watch it,’ someone shouts at me, as one of my Tesco bags hits him in the leg when he descends the bus steps ahead of me.

‘It’s just teddies,’ I snap back.

‘Yeah, well, next time keep your shopping to yourself, right?’

‘It was an accident. Jesus. Sorry.’

‘Now, now, where’s our Christmas spirit,’ a lady with even more bags than me says, appearing behind us as the bus pulls away.

The man’s face softens. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Just feeling the pressure of all the bits and pieces that need to be bought at this time of year. Need to win the damn lotto.’

‘It’s okay. Me too,’ I say.

The three of us part and go our separate ways, but I think about Christmas the whole walk into the hospital. I left Cora’s flat in such a kerfuffle this morning that Christmas was the last thing on my mind. But the big day is next week and, as of right now, Ellie and I might be spending it on the street.

I take Malcolm’s wellies off at the main doors and slip into my worn work shoes. Upstairs, Elaine is waiting for me.

‘And what time do you call this?’ she asks, pressing her finger against the face of her watch as if I can see it from where I’m standing.

I sigh. ‘The weather.’

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