Page 51 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘We got brekkie,’ I say, proudly.

‘Oh. Okay. Cool.’ She sounds as if she doesn’t believe me and I fight the urge to elaborate about Ellie’s eggs. ‘Well, anyway, it’s my turn to cook tonight so I was wondering what Ellie would like. I won’t make curry, don’t worry.’

I laugh. ‘Actually, we won’t be home for dinner.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. Erm. I found a place.’

‘What?’ Her voice rises an octave. ‘When?’

‘Just…’ I stutter. ‘Erm, literally just now. But it’s ready and available immediately.’

‘Really? Somewhere came up this close to Christmas?’

She sounds disappointed.

‘Yep. So I have to pounce.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Of course.’

I can tell now she is definitely disappointed, and I’m not sure why. I thought she would be thrilled to get her space with Finton back.

‘Erm, okay, I’m delighted, Bea. Is it a good location for work? Send me the address, yeah? Just in case you’re moving in with a bunch of serial killers or something and I have to come and hit them over the head with a Christmas stocking.’

‘A Christmas stocking?’

‘Well, I’d fill it with rocks first, obviously.’

I laugh. ‘Duh, obviously.’

I hear Cora inhale, and seriously she says, ‘I’m happy for you, Bea. See, what did I tell you? I said everything would be all right, didn’t I?’

I wince and hope I can push words out before I choke up. ‘You were right.’

‘Okay, cool,’ she says quickly, and I know this is the part of the call where she has to hang up soon and go back to work. ‘But send me on the address, because I would love to come around and meet your new roomies. I’ll bring cake. And I promise to leave all Christmas stocking and rocks at home.’

‘Yeah. Course.’ I swallow hard. ‘I’ll send everything on later. Okay.’

‘Cool. Cool. Gotta go. Someone’s here for chest X-ray. Byeeeee.’

‘Bye.’

I slide my phone back into my pocket and drop my face into my hands. I take some deep breaths, enough for the smell of bleach to make me light-headed, and look up again.

‘Welcome home, Beatrice Alright,’ I say out loud as I look around the storage room.

The idea hit me while I was on the phone with Cora. I hid Ellie in this storage room for a day. Sure, I lost her, but that’s because she was awake. Sleeping kids don’t go walkabout. And she and I only need somewhere to sleep. By day, she’s in crèche and I’m in work. So by night we can be in here. Who will ever find out? It feels slightly genius and slightly insane at the same time. But it’s a solution and the absolute best answer I can come up with right now.

I glance around at Ellie’s and my new home, then I sit down and lean back against an industrial-sized drum of antibacterial floor wash to enjoy rice pudding, and I’m sorry I didn’t nick some jelly too.

TWENTY

Elaine asks me to stay late to make up the lost hour’s work this morning.

‘Two patients on StJohn’s ward have gone home, and their mattresses need scrubbing before we re-dress the beds.’

I think of the grubby, plastic-covered mattresses that must be as old as I am. I don’t mind washing them; the trouble is that I never feel I can get them fully clean. Even with the strongest antibacterial spay we have.

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