Page 74 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘It’s just a McDonald’s,’ Shayne says, and I’m frazzled for a second, as if he’s reading my thoughts. But his tone is completely different to mine. Careful and kind. ‘Let me get this, please. I’m the one who dragged you both here in this weather, after all.’

I take a measured breath and smile. I know this is what friends do. They buy each other a meal every so often. And under normal circumstances I’d happily accept the kind gesture and next time would be on me. But I can’t afford those kinds of indiscretions any more. What if his order is a large meal, or he wants a coffee I haven’t budgeted for? My mind is racing and I realise Shayne is staring, waiting for me to speak and make some sort of sense.

‘I’m not actually hungry,’ I say, and his face falls. ‘I grabbed something in the canteen earlier.’ My stomach rumbles right at that very moment and betrays me.

‘I’m hungry,’ Ellie says, and reminds Shayne about her chicken nugget Happy Meal request.

I know Ellie won’t finish her nuggets or chips. It was spaghetti Bolognese day in the crèche, her favourite; she can’t have much room left.

Shayne nods and goes to order.

‘You look hungry to me,’ Malcolm says as I take off my coat, the restaurant suddenly feeling stuffy. ‘You’re skin and bone.’

Thankfully I don’t have to change the subject – Ellie does it for me when she breaks into song. Something about a blackbird and a chicken, although I’m not sure she has the lyrics quite right.

Malcolm bounces her on his knee and when we get to the chorus for the fourth time he joins in. A group of teenagers at a table nearby turn and giggle. When Malcolm notices them, he sings a little louder.

Shayne returns with a tray full of food. Everyone takes theirs, then lastly he places a McFlurry and a coffee in front of me.

‘I hope you’re not too full for dessert,’ he says, a little unsure.

My insides fizz with excitement. Both because I’m famished and can’t wait to tuck into cold ice cream and warm coffee, and also because it’s kind and thoughtful and I’m not used to anyone thinking about me. Not even Declan before all of this.

I have to look away for a moment and repeat the silent mantra in my head,Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

There is more singing, although Shayne stops and blushes when he notices the teenagers pointing. There is conversation.

‘I won five quid,’ Malcolm says, proudly referring to the earlier game of poker.

Shayne rolls his eyes. ‘Grandad.’

Malcolm chuckles heartily. ‘I gave it back. That MrsMorgan is a terrible poker player. She should stick to the chess.’

Ellie falls asleep on my shoulder and Shayne offers to drive us home, but I make an excuse about Cora picking us up.

‘Maybe we could do this again before I leave?’ he asks as we walk down the stairs. Someone has spilled Coke on the bottom few steps. Without a word, Shayne links Malcolm and holds him close.

‘You’re still leaving?’ I say, my heart heavy with sudden sadness.

‘Have lots to sort out back home.’

My heart feels heavy hearing him refer to New York as home. I’ve only known him a short time, but he has become such a large part of my life. Of mine and Ellie’s lives. It’s hard to believe he doesn’t belong here.

‘Oh…I thought you could work remotely.’

‘I can.’ He runs his free hand through his already messy hair. ‘But my apartment and my ex…you know the way.’

‘I really do,’ I say, all too quickly.

‘So is that a yes? We can do this again soon?’

We reach the bottom step and Malcolm wriggles free from Shayne’s grip like a stubborn child. Shayne turns his attention to me. His huge blue eyes bore into me, pleadingly.

Tonight was wonderful. It was mundane, sticky, noisy, a little smelly and so, so normal. I wish it didn’t have to end. I wish he didn’t have to go. I push the sadness deep down.

‘Okay,’ I say, quickly, deciding that I can totally budget to buy him a coffee in exchange for another wonderful evening.

‘Okay,’ he says, and Ithinkhe might be almost as excited as me. ‘Can I give you my number? You know, so we can text and not have to meet on a park bench.’

---