Page 27 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘I’m hungry.’

‘I’m glad you found your mom,’ Shayne tells her, then he turns towards me and adds, ‘And it was nice to meet you…’

I know he’s waiting for my name but I don’t give it. I simply widen my smile and wait for him to walk away. He pulls one side of his long, warm coat over the other, bows his head and walks through the automatic glass doors and into the cold outside.

‘What is Ellie doing here?’ Órlaith asks, finally twigging that this whole situation isn’t right.

‘Long story,’ I say, on the verge of tears.

‘Well, you better get her the hell out of here before Elaine sees her.’

‘My shift doesn’t end for another couple of hours.’

Órlaith rolls her eyes and exhales heavily. ‘You owe me big-time,’ she says, glancing at Ellie and then at the reception desk.

‘You won’t know she’s here,’ I say. ‘She has some colouring. I’ll bring it down.’

Órlaith waves her hand and lets me know there’s no need for a colouring book. She’s got this.

‘Come on, honey,’ she says, reaching for Ellie’s hand. ‘Do you like lollipops?’

This time Ellie checks with me if it’s all right to take the hand of a stranger. ‘Go on,’ I encourage. ‘It’s okay.’ And then I mouth a silentthank youto Órlaith.

Órlaith winks, takes Ellie’s hand in hers and leads her towards the tuck shop before it closes.

TEN

I wait until the end of my shift before I return to the storage closet, collect my cardigan and tidy up. I remove all evidence that Ellie was here before I leave. Downstairs, I find Ellie behind the reception desk. She’s perched on a leather chair like a tiny Alice in Wonderland on an oversized throne. She’s smiling contently, and I’m relieved that getting lost earlier doesn’t seem to have traumatised her like it has me.

‘Thank you sooooo much,’ I tell Órlaith as I reach the desk.

‘No, Mammy,’ Ellie says, seeing me. ‘I don’t want to go home. I busy.’

‘Oh, I see. Very, very busy,’ I tell her as she swings the large swivel chair from side to side with a kick of her legs. ‘But your shift is over, Miss receptionist. It’s time to go.’

‘More tomorrow?’ she asks, and I think her question is directed towards Órlaith and not me.

‘More any time you like,’ Órlaith says, then she lifts Ellie out of the chair and sets her down. Ellie runs towards me and wraps her arms around my leg.

‘Is everything okay?’ Órlaith asks, lowering her voice. ‘What happened today?’

‘Everything is fine. Just the crèche being difficult.’

‘Right. Right. I know.’

Órlaith does not know. She’s single and still lives with her parents despite being nearly forty.

‘I have a dog. A maltipoo,’ she goes on. ‘And it’s such a worry leaving him home all day while I’m in work.’

I don’t remind her that her mother is home with her dogs all day. Or that, although dogs and young children sometimes wet the floor or chew toys, that’s about where the similarities end.

Ellie covers her mouth with her hand but it doesn’t hide her loud tittering. ‘She said poo. Did you hear her, Mammy? She said poo.’

‘Shh.’

Another thing dogs don’t do is mortify you with the things they repeat. Thankfully, Órlaith laughs.

‘I’ll see you soon, Ellie,’ she says, pulling someToy Storystickers off a long roll.

---