Page 28 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Ellie takes them, delighted, and says, ‘Tomorrow.’

Órlaith glances at me and I can tell she knows that things are most definitely not all right.

‘C’mon, Ellie. We have to let Órlaith get back to work now.’

‘You know, I had a lovely time with Ellie today, Bea,’ Órlaith says. ‘So, if you ever need help?—’

‘Oh gosh. Yes. Erm. Thanks.’

‘Well,’ she finishes up, reading my embarrassment. ‘Safe home. Forecast says it’s supposed to snow, so hopefully it doesn’t play havoc with the traffic.’

‘I like snow,’ Ellie says, then bursts into the chorus of ‘Let It Go’ fromFrozen.

‘Shh,’ I tell her again, then I wrap her up for the weather, take her hand and walk outside.

Ellie shrieks with delight when she discovers snow has already started to fall and a soft, fluffy blanket covers the ground already. I put on my red wellies, scoop her into my arms andstart walking. The snow is crisp and easy to walk on. I charge like a racehorse. It’s two buses and Luas across town to the new flat, and I told the landlady I’d meet her at sixp.m. She’s been texting me frantically since three thirty to make sure I’m still coming.

I’m practising in my head what I’ll say to try to negotiate the rent down when a deep voice cuts through my thoughts.

I look over Ellie’s shoulder and find Malcolm sitting in the usual spot. Snowflakes land on his head and catch in eyebrows and I find myself once again wishing that he would wear a hat.

‘Hello, Bea,’ he says, then he points at my wellies and says, ‘Much better.’

‘Yes. Much better,’ I echo.

‘Who do we have here?’ he asks.

Ellie lifts her head off my shoulder to chirp, ‘I’m Ellie. I’m four.’

‘My daughter,’ I add.

‘Hello, Ellie-I’m-Four,’ Malcolm says.

Ellie laughs and brushes my hair aside so she can whisper loudly in my ear: ‘He’s silly.’

‘I’m not silly. I’m Malcolm.’

Ellie laughs again. The sound of her innocent chuckles warms me from the inside out and I realise it’s been a few days since I heard her giggle. I guess I’ve been so busy worrying about the apartment and work, I forgot to take the time to make her laugh.

‘Ellie,’ Malcolm repeats, shaking his head and puffing out warm air that creates a small cloud in front of his face. ‘Hmm.’

‘Is something wrong?’ I ask.

He scrunches his nose.

‘No. Not wrong. Just…’ He shrugs and today’s scarf, a silver and maroon cable knit, bobs on his shoulders. ‘Didn’t you think to call her Lily or Rose or Daisy?

‘Do you like those names?’ I ask, confused.

‘No. I don’t care for children named after flowers, or cities or colours. But I also don’t think parents should call children after insects. But if they do, well then, surely that child would grow up and keep with tradition. Bea and Lily. Or Bea and Rose…you see.’

‘Well, it’s Bea and Ellie,’ I say, sounding irritated but I’m not.

I love Ellie’s name. It’s the perfect fit for my little girl and no one could ever make me doubt how well we fit together. Ellie is the best part of me. And Declan too, although I try not to think about that now.

I check my watch and say, ‘It was nice seeing you again, Malcolm.’

‘A busy Bea,’ he says with a wink.

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