Page 12 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘He’s too old for you. He’s never home. He’s so guarded with his money; do you even know what he earns? Does he ever give you money for things for Ellie? Kids aren’t cheap, Bea.’

‘He’s given me ten days,’ I say, as if Declan is a judge passing sentence on me for crimes I didn’t commit.

‘Ten days for what?’

I shrug as if she can see me. ‘To get out of the apartment. He’s not renewing the lease.’

Cora takes a deep breath and I can tell she doesn’t know what to say. ‘Oh, Bea,’ is all she can manage.

‘Well, I suppose it makes sense,’ I say. ‘We’re broken up. We’re not going to be living together any more. He doesn’t need this place.’

‘But you do,’ Cora tells me. ‘And Ellie. It’s her home. It’s all she knows.’

‘Not any more.’

‘He can’t do that. He’s Ellie’s dad. He has to provide for her.’

‘It’s already done. He’s not renewing the lease.’

Cora tsks and is quiet for a moment, as if she’s thinking and fuming at the same time. ‘Right, well, you’ll have to take him to court. It’s the only way. If he’s too much of a shit to face up to his responsibilities morally, you’ll have to tie his hands legally. Ellie needs a home. And so do you.’

‘No. No way,’ I jump in, instantly scared. ‘Declan would run circles around me in court. He’d hire the best of the best. He wouldn’t spare a penny. He could even file for custody of Ellie.’ The thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. ‘No way. No legal stuff. I’ll figure this out on my own.’

‘You’ll figure it all out in two weeks?’ Cora asks, and I can sense her concern.

‘Yes,’ I snap, equal parts defensive and panicking.

‘Okay, well, start with the landlord. Yeah? Give him a call. Get him to transfer the lease to you before it runs out. Happens all the time with breakups. And it would be the least disruptive thing for Ellie. You spend most of your time there just the two of you anyway, so…’

‘It’s expensive,’ I tell her.

‘I know. Rents are crazy, aren’t they? God, we’re paying over two grand a month for our place and it’s only one bedroom. Ican’t even imagine what something as fancy as your apartment costs.’

‘Neither can I,’ I admit.

I hear Cora swallow. ‘Erm, don’t you know?’

‘Not really. Declan never said.’

‘Jesus, Bea.’

‘I know. I know,’ I say, accepting now how messed up everything is. ‘But he was living here before we met so I couldn’t just ask, you know.’

‘Was he? I mean, he lied about so much. How do you know he didn’t just rent that place as soon as he knew you were pregnant and he was going to play pretend for the next four years?’

‘Erm.’ My brain hurts almost as much as my heart. ‘I don’t, I guess.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Cora says, softly. ‘None of that matters now. It’s over, Bea. You can move on and get on with the rest of your life.’

‘Where will I go?’ I say, choking back panic.

Cora can’t possibly know that, after I pay for crèche, I only have five hundred euro a month in my bank account. It’s been just fine before now. I budget carefully for groceries, new clothes for an ever-growing little girl, and the odd medication if needed. Thankfully, Ellie rarely picks up the sore throats or chesty coughs doing the rounds at crèche. There’s usually a few euro left over at the end of the month that I use to treat us to a trip to the cinema or bowling. Declan took care of the rest. Electricity. Heating. Takeaways. Wine. If you asked me about our setup six months ago, I would have smiled with smug confidence and said, ‘It works.’ Hell, if you asked me six hours ago.

‘You can try a flatshare, Bea. Don’t worry, there’s always people looking to split rent,’ Cora tells me. ‘I know living with strangers is a bit of a worry with a kiddo, but you could interview anyone before they moved in. And if they’re nice, they mighteven babysit for a night or two and we could actually,finallyget out for some drinks.’

‘A flatshare,’ I say, thinking. My mind is racing as I try to think of a way to make it work. If I cut back on food, maybe I could afford my share of rent. I could let out both rooms and Ellie and I could share the sofa. She loves to sleep snuggled up. And she gets good meals in crèche during the week. I’d only need stuff for the weekends. As for me, I could make do with an apple or a yoghurt and some bread. A loaf would last me a week. I’m starting to believe I might actually be able to do this.

‘Bea?’ Cora says after a while and I realise I’ve been quietly thinking for ages.

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