Page 94 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘They’re my favourites,’ I tell him.

He places his hand to his chest and his smile widens more.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘Let’s call it a day. Busy Bea’s feet hurt.’

Shayne flags a taxi and I have to tell him sternly to take it first. ‘You need to get him home. Ellie and I will get the next one.’

Shayne reluctantly agrees and helps Malcolm into the taxi.

‘I’ll call you,’ he says, before he hops in after his grandfather and closes the door.

I wait until the taxi is out of view before I take Ellie’s hand and walk towards the bus stop.

‘I love Malco,’ she muses, skipping beside me. ‘And Shayne too.’

The turn of phrase gives me pause. Because somewhere deep inside I think she might mean it. I think my little girl is building a relationship with Malcolm and Shayne, and I wonder what her father will have to say about that. I guess we’ll find out soon enough, I think, as our old bus pulls up and we hop on.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Ellie doesn’t seem to recognise the apartment block above the coffee shop, or, if she does, she doesn’t refer to it as home. She’s more concerned with which cookie to choose as we both follow our noses towards the scent of coffee and sugar wafting from the open door.

I glance at my watch. It’s six oh fivep.m. We’re five minutes late. The café closes at sevenp.m., giving us less than an hour to talk. But as I glance around the funky café with its minimalist industrial décor, I can’t spot Declan. Ellie and I approach the counter and she presses her nose against the glass display table, eying up the limited selection of cookies remaining at this hour of the day.

‘Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.’ Her brow furrows as she concentrates.

The teenage girl with pink hair and a handful of facial piercings behind the counter tells Ellie, ‘The chocolate chip ones are the best.’

The chocolate chip ones are almost as big as Ellie’s head and twice the price of all the others. Ellie tugs my arm.

‘Can I have a chocolate chip one please?’

I wince, but decide I’ll eat whatever Ellie can’t finish. I order an apple juice too and take out my phone to pay. Then a voice behind me says, ‘What? No coffee?’

‘Daddy.’ Ellie’s face lights up.

Declan opens his arms and she throws herself into his grip and he lifts her off the ground.

‘Trying to cut down on my caffeine,’ I say.

He makes a face and I hate that he can always tell when I’m lying.

‘You look great,’ he says, as if I’ve changed massively in the couple of weeks since he last saw me.

I don’t return the compliment.

‘I’ll get this,’ he says, as if buying a cookie and juice for his own daughter is some sort of grand gesture. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you with something, Bea?’

Much as I would absolutely love a coffee, I shake my head. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of buying anything for me.

‘Just these,’ he points towards the cookie and juice, ‘and an Americano please?’

He taps his phone and the girl tells us to take a seat and she’ll bring them down to us. Ellie chooses some high stools inside the window so she can people-watch.

‘Will she be all right up there?’ he asks me as I lift her up and push her in so she can reach the narrow, bench-style table against the window.

I snort. ‘She’s always fine sitting here,’ I tell him.

Another lie. Ellie has never sat here before in her life. I try to push away the irritation that now, suddenly, he is concerned for his daughter’s wellbeing after she’s spent nights sleeping on a storage room floor. I try to keep a lid on my feelings, reminding myself that he can’t possibly know we’re sleeping at the hospital.

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