Page 24 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I roll my eyes for effect.

‘Don’t suppose we have any wipes?’ she goes on, eying up the door behind me.

The handle digs into my spine, and I realise I have my back pressed firmly against the door, guarding it. My heart begins to race as she watches me, and I can tell she’s waiting for me to step aside so she can open the door and check.

‘I spilled coffee all over my desk earlier and it’s still sticky. That’s what I get for trying morning yoga before work. I just can’t do without my sleep.’

‘We don’t have any,’ I blurt.

She crooks her head.

‘Wipes. We don’t have any. I forgot to order them.’

Her eyes narrow but I cut across her before she has time to say anything.

‘I hear you about the sleep thing. Ellie kept me up when she was sick and I just totally forgot to order. I’m sorry. I’ll get on it now, though.’

She nods, accepting my excuse, and is just about to walk away when she suddenly becomes very still and says, ‘Do you hear that?’

I hear the gentle hum of Bluey and his animal friends talking behind the door. I pretend to listen intently for a moment before I say, ‘No. What?’

‘Squeaky voices?’

‘Really?’ I make a face and act curious. ‘I don’t hear anything.’

She listens again, and shrugs. ‘Never mind. It’s gone now.’

‘The wind,’ I rush in to say.

‘Yeah. Maybe. It’s a bit draughty up here, certainly.’ She pulls herself upright and, with a single clap of her hands, she says, ‘Right. Best get back to it. Can you see to the floor in room 128. I think MrPurcell wet the floor again. He says he didn’t, of course, but?—’

‘I’ll see to it.’

She smiles and takes her time walking away and I know she can just about still hear the faint hum of music.

I wash and polish the floor in room 128 until it sparkles.

‘He peed there, you know,’ MrCanterbury says, proudly pointing at MrPurcell in the bed next to him.

MrPurcell jolts upright to protest his innocence. ‘I did not, you lying old codger. It was you!’

‘Now. Now. What does it matter?’ I jump in, waving my arms as if we’re in a war zone. ‘It’s all cleaned up now.’

‘It matters to me,’ MrPurcell says, in a tone that hints that if he wasn’t lying in bed he would stomp his foot like a tantrum-throwing toddler. ‘This fella is driving me cracked. I want to move beds.’

‘I can have a word with the ward manager,’ I suggest, knowing Elaine will never agree to swapping patients around.

‘My son is coming in later,’ MrPurcell goes on. ‘He’s a solicitor.’

‘You can’t sue me for peeing on the floor,’ MrCanterbury grumbles, his elderly voice crackling like an open fire on a winter’s day.

‘So you admit it.’ MrPurcell laughs, as delighted with himself as if he’s solved a serious crime. ‘It was you.’

I leave them to argue it out, and make my way to the storage closet once again to check on Ellie.

‘Hey there, chickpea,’ I say, as I push the bucket and mop inside. ‘Are you having fun watchingBlue—’ I drop the handle of the mop and it topples the bucket over, sending soapy water all over the floor and soaking my cardigan. ‘Ellie,’ I call out, ignoring the water that pools around my ankles when I don’t see my daughter sitting in the spot where I left her. ‘Ellie. Ellie. Ellie, where are you?’

I charge into the pokey room and push sweeping brushes aside and move anything that is movable.

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