Page 50 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Yes. Yes. I suppose none of us can control that. It took me an hour longer than usual to come in this morning. The M50 was at a standstill.’

‘I don’t drive,’ I say. ‘Had to wait on the bus.’

‘Right. Right. Well, can you get an earlier one tomorrow, then?’

I grimace. ‘I would. But I have to drop my daughter to crèche and they only open at eight.’

Elaine turns, but I still catch her rolling her eyes.

‘Okay, fair enough, but I’ll have to adjust your wages if you’re going to be late all this week. I’m sorry, but it’s only fair to those whoaremaking it in on time.’

The tips of my shoulders are burning from the weight of the plastic bags in my hands and I wait for Elaine to say something about them. Ask me if I was late because I’d been running around Christmas shopping, that way everyone else does. But instead, she says, ‘Nice wellies.’

I glance into the bag in my left arm. The handle is digging into my palm now and stinging, the bright red wellington boots are sitting on top and hiding a multitude of teddies bellow.

‘Sensible choice in this weather,’ she continues. ‘I might get myself a pair.’

I smile, relieved by the shift to small talk.

‘Right, well, dump your stuff and get going. Could you start with the men’s toilets please? They’re not pretty, I’m afraid.’

Normally my stomach would heave a little at the thought of it, but I’m so relieved Elaine didn’t notice my entire life waswrapped up in Tesco plastic that I hurry towards the storage room with new-found energy. I dump the bags in the back and pull out the mop and bucket.

The day is long and full of bodily excretions. One of the other cleaners asks me if I’d like to join her and the new girl in the café across the street for lunch.

‘They do the nicest acai bowls,’ she tells me.

‘I’d love to,’ I say, wringing out my mop that smells like feet, underarms and bleach all at the same time. ‘But I already have plans. Thanks so much though.’

‘Maybe next time,’ she says.

I try hard to smile. ‘Yeah. Definitely.’

‘She never comes,’ I hear her whisper to the new girl as they walk away.

‘Then why do you keep asking her?’

‘Dunno. Just thought maybe some day I’d find out why she’s so weird?’

‘Is she weird?’

‘God yeah.’

They continue talking, no doubt about my personality, as they fade out of earshot. I sneak an unopened rice pudding and some apple juice off a tray a patient has finished eating from and make my way into the storage room to have my lunch. I’ve just taken my phone out to scroll through flat listings as usual when it begins to ring, and Cora’s name pops up on the screen. I take a deep breath and answer.

‘Hey,’ I say, trying hard to sound casual.

‘Heya. Where did you go this morning? I was on the early shift. I thought we could have brekkie together.’

‘Oh, erm, yeah, sorry. Ellie was up and singing her head off, so I thought we’d hit the road early.’

‘You know I love Ellie’s singing,’ she says.

Ellie has a voice like a strangled crow, but Cora always smiles when she sings. Finton is a different story, and the moment of pause between us tells me that we’re both thinking about that.

‘I didn’t want to wake Finton,’ I go on. ‘I know he’s on a later shift today.’

‘Yeah, yeah, he is. God, what time did ye guys leave? Was anywhere even open?’

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