Page 2 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘I know. I know, but?—’

She cuts me off. ‘Look, someone’s been sick on ward seven. Bile. It’s making the other patients feel unwell. So, unless you want a chain effect…’

‘Okay,’ I say, turning towards the storage closet, and I know now is not the best time to mention that we’re running low on antibacterial floor wash.

‘And for God’s sake wash your hands.’ Elaine points at the name and number scribbled across the back of my hand in blue pen before she turns, taking the clipboard from under her arm that I hadn’t noticed before to start writing as she walks away.

By the end of the day, my feet burn. I haven’t sat once. Not even on my break. I ate a banana and a packet of Tayto in the closet while I quickly counted supplies and filled out the order sheet. I spent the rest of the hour searching for OCD girl’s boyfriend. I felt awful when I had to message her that I couldn’t find him. She messaged me back to say she had the wrong hospital and she was making her way to StMary’s instead. The only other message on my phone is from my boyfriend, Declan.

Hey. Caught in work. Overnighter. Sorry. Can’t pick Ellie up from crèche.

I curse Declan under my breath. He hasn’t picked our four-year-old daughter up from crèche in weeks. And his excuses are endless.Layover in Boston/New York/wherever. Bad weather can’t fly. Birds on runway.

I can’t actually complain. Declan was a pilot when we met. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for bad weather and flight delays, he never would have noticed me, panicking over lost luggage inJFK Airport. I was a skittish student, abroad alone for the first time. He was a handsome stranger in uniform, coming off duty. We hit it off straight away. I spent my summer working as a waitress in Al’s Diner in Brooklyn and my evenings in Declan’s arms. I can say without hesitation that I had the time of my life. Three months later, my student visa was up and it was time to go home. Part of me worried that would be the end of things for me and Declan. But two days before I moved back to Dublin, I discovered I was pregnant. And the rest is history. I moved into Declan’s flat in Blackrock as Ellie grew in my belly. College went out the window. Declan’s work kept him away a lot and I couldn’t juggle lectures and a newborn. I can’t lie, it was hard and lonely at first. But soon, Ellie and I found our feet. Together. I got a job in StHelen’s Hospital as a cleaner. It just about covers the cost of Ellie in crèche. But, with Declan taking care of the rent and the rest of the bills, it works. Although, my best friend, Cora, never has a good word to say about Declan.

‘He’s so old, it’s kinda gross,’ she complains about our twenty-one-year age gap.

I was twenty-five when Declan and I met, and he was forty-six. I’m almost thirty now, and Cora still won’t let it go.

‘I just think he takes advantage of you, that’s all. You had to make all the sacrifices. You had to drop out of college. You had to move into his flat. You have Ellie all the time, while he’s off seeing the world.’

‘It’s hardly like he’s on holiday,’ I reminded her, always. ‘And besides, he takes care of us. If anything, I’m lucky.’

‘Yeah, well, I still think you should have stayed living with me. And I still think you should go back to college. They’re crying out for doctors and you were so good at it.’

I know Cora means well, but going backwards is not for me. I am happy. So happy, I’m almost certain Declan is going to pop the question soon. He’s been acting nervous or awkward lately,and I saw a jewellery website left open on his laptop a few weeks ago. I don’t tell Cora though. She and her boyfriend, Finton, have been together forever, but I have a feeling marriage is nowhere on his radar yet. With engagement rings on my brain, I message Declan back.

No worries. I’ll collect Ellie. Hope you take off soon I love you xx

Declan doesn’t reply, but he thumbs-up my message, and I hope that means they’re about to take off. Maybe he’ll be home tonight after all.

TWO

When my shift finally ends there’s a blister forming on my heel, and the distinctive smell of vomit and bleach sticks to my hair. I wait until I’m outside to slip off the offending shoe and give my foot a moment to breathe. There’s a hole in my tights and the chipped crimson nail polish on my big toe pokes out at me.Great!Sighing, I twist my foot at my ankle to draw an invisible circle in the air. My bone cracks and it’s both satisfactory and disturbing. I toss my black leather work shoe into my bag and swap it for the comfy runner that I pull out.

‘Whoah!’ I say, bending wobblily to pop my runner on the ground so I can wriggle into it without having to undo or retie the slack laces. The laces used to be white, but now they’re a creamy-yellowish-beige and I can’t remember the last time I actually tied or untied them. They’re certainly a well-loved runner, and most likely a million seasons out of fashion, if they were ever in. They are also the only pair of shoes, aside from my work shoes, that I own.

I press a hand against the wall to steady myself as I switch my foot in the air to slide the other shoe off. As I slip this runner on and straighten up too enthusiastically, I feel my nail snag the back of my tights. I wince, knowingly. When I gain my balance, Iroll onto my tiptoe and twist my head over my shoulder to check the damage.

‘Oh no. No. No,’ I say, aloud but not talking to anyone except myself.

There’s an unmissable ladder running from my heel all the way up to the back of my knee. I’ll have to stop off in Tesco on the way home. I’m so tired I could sleep standing up, but I’ll need another pair of tights before my shift tomorrow. I bought the cheapest ones I could find last week.Barely There Black, it said on the box. They weren’t kidding. Although, in the interest of honest advertising, the box should have said,Barely There Dark Grey Things That Are So Flimsy You’ll Never Get Away Without Shaving Your Legs Underneath. Thankfully the hospital wards are roasting, even in mid-December, and I don’t need anything heavier. Or more expensive. I’ve got thirty-two euro to last me and Ellie until payday at the end of the week.

I make my way carefully down the concrete steps outside the main doors of StHelen’s. Someone has had the good sense to scatter salt all around, and the large grains crunch under my feet as they offer me grip. It’s not long after fivep.m. and it’s already dark. Although today was the type of day where it never really seemed to get bright. Thick clouds hung overhead all day and teased the idea of rain but never followed through and there’s a breeze now that MrsMorgan on StPaul’s ward told me earlier is a Nasty East Wind that could slice you in two. MrsBrennan argued that it is in fact the North Wind with its blade-like abilities. She then asked MrsMorgan what she knew about the weather anyway with her nose stuck in a book instead of frittering away the afternoon flicking through the news channels the way she did. Bickering escalated pretty quickly from there and I intervened with cookies and hot chocolate. Thankfully, by the time I was leaving my favourite patients had settled their argument and were enjoying a game of chess in the day room.I’ve no doubt I’ll hear a long story in the morning about who won, who cheated, and how they’re never playing with each other ever again. Until the next day, of course.

‘Wherever the windisfrom it’s bloody cold,’ I say, again aloud but still not talking to anyone in particular.

A pair of doctors walk past me. A man and a woman. They’re not much older than me, I think. Mid-thirties, maybe. And I wonder if they’re a couple. Maybe they met at work. Or even earlier, in college, I muse. Their voices are loud and bulky as they chat about Christmas shopping and picking up a turkey and I decide thatYes!they are most definitely together. In the five years Declan and I have been a couple, we’ve never spent Christmas together. He’s always in the air on the day.

‘The money for flying on the twenty-fifth is too good to turn down,’ he tells me every year.

I don’t mind. Christmas was never my cup of tea. I bounced around from foster home to foster home as a kid and I always felt like an outsider at strangers’ tables no matter how hard they tried to make me feel welcome. But this year is Ellie’s first Christmas truly understanding the magic of Santa and I decide that she, Declan and I really need to spend the day together and start making some family memories. We need to be the happy people at the dinner table with colourful paper hats on our heads and bellies stuffed to the brim with turkey and ham. I make a mental note to talk to Declan about it when he gets home.

The couple smile at me and say something about the weather before getting into a large, expensive jeep. A sudden wave of jealousy washes over me and it’s even colder and nastier than the East, or North, or wherever-the-feck-it’s-from wind and I hate myself for it. It was my choice to have Ellie. And my choice to drop out of medical school. My choice to move in with Declan and shape a family. And it was the best decision I ever made. Ellie is the best part of my life. And, besides, I still get to workin a hospital, meeting lovely patients every day. It may not be how I planned things, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. The couple’s car purrs to life and I pull my coat a little tighter around me as they drive by. I tug the strap of my bag that insists on falling down my arm back onto my shoulder, lower my head so my face isn’t into the wind and walk.

If I hurry I’ll catch the five-thirty bus, otherwise I’ll be waiting until six and traffic will be horrendous heading out of town by then. Today is 8December. Also known as Annual Stay The Hell Out Of Town Daybecause every man, women and child of the country has descended on Grafton Street to officially mark the start of Christmas shopping. Or something like that. It’s the same every year. They come to shop, mingle and of course take in the sights Dublin has to offer in the festive season. The city really is very beautiful in the festive period, if you have the time to enjoy it. Huge, fluffy green garlands stretch from one side of the streets to the other, lit up and sparkling after dark. And there’s a humongous, real tree, decorated from top to bottom, right outside the gates of StStephen’s Green Park. Órlaith, the receptionist in work, said it’s a giving tree. You can take a card from one of the branches and inside is the name of a boy or a girl and their age. Then you buy an appropriate gift for a child in need, and lots of local businesses are drop-off points. It’s a lovely idea but I wish Órlaith never told me about it. Every time I walk by and I can’t afford to take a card, my heart hurts.

Unfortunately, Christmas spirit seems to be passing me by. It has been for a few years, but I try not to dwell on that now. Every family has their share of troubles and I’m no special case. Most days I can remember that just fine, but at Christmas time I have to try harder.

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