Page 112 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I watch Malcolm’s laboured breathing as he listens to Ellie’s story with a subtle smile.

‘I’ll be back,’ I say. ‘You okay to watch her?’ I tilt my head towards the bed.

‘Sure,’ he says. He’s about to say something else, probably to tell me how hopeless it is, or to give up, but I turn on my heel and hurry away.

I find Elaine on the women’s ward. She’s found the empty bottle of prosecco beside MrsBrennan’s bed. Her face falls somewhere between a disapproving eye-roll and a pleased smirk.

‘Good for you, MrsB,’ I hear her whisper.

She tucks the empty bottle under her arm but almost drops it when she turns and sees me.

‘Bea. You’re back.’

She adjusts the bottle, tucking it firmer.

‘Is everything okay? Where’s Ellie?’

‘She’s here,’ I say.

Elaine tries to squash a groan but it comes out anyway. She glances at her watch and shakes her head. ‘It’s late. They lock the door at the shelter by ten. You can’t just waltz in and out as you please, I’m afraid there are strict rules about that sort of thing.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I’m not going back.’

‘Oh, Bea, for goodness’ sake,’ Elaine huffs, dragging her hand across her forehead. ‘Have you any idea of the strings I had to pull to get you in there in the first place and now?—’

‘I know,’ I cut in. ‘But it’s not somewhere Ellie and I feel safe.’

Elaine rolls her eyes. ‘Oh really. It is quite literally a safe house, Bea. Or would you rather a small child continue to sleep next to a mop and some bleach indefinitely? Because let me tell you here and now, that cannot and will not happen.’

‘We’re going to stay with Shayne and Malcolm,’ I say.

The colour drains from Elaine’s face.

‘Ellie is with them now.’

She raises her hand and closes her eyes as if it pains her to hear another word. But I can’t stop. Not when Malcolm has so little time.

‘He’s here,’ I say, tentatively. ‘Malcolm. He’s a patient.’

I wonder if I should help her to sit down. She looks as if she needs to.

‘Do you want to see him?’

Elaine sways, and I cup her elbow and lead her to sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, taking the bottle from under her arm and setting it back on the bedside locker where it started out. ‘Do you need some water or something?’

She shakes her head.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a shock.’

‘I know he’s here, Bea.’ She sighs. ‘Órlaith told me.’

‘Oh.’

‘So, you can go now.’

I swallow disappointment. But before I walk away I say, ‘Room 218, if you change your mi?—,’

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