Page 59 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I glare at her with wide eyes, but she doesn’t take her hand down and I don’t want to scold her and draw Malcolm’s attention.

The hallway is long and narrow and full of colour. Lilac walls. A multicoloured carpet with a dominant maroon tint and a pattern that reminds me of ocean waves. The stairs are a creamy-yellow, but I can tell they were once white and have darkened over the years.

‘Can I watch telly now?’ Ellie asks, already taking herself through an open doorway that I can see leads to a sitting room.

‘You can,’ Malcolm tells her as he follows her.

I poke my head round the door and into a room with the exact same décor as the hall. I watch as he turns on a large, cube-shaped television in the corner that reminds me of the one my parents had when I was Ellie’s age. There doesn’t appear to be aremote control, and Malcolm brings the thing to life by pressing buttons on the front. Ellie lowers herself to sit on the floor, cross-legged, in front of the big black box as a Disney classic comes on the screen.

‘Lady and the Tramp,’ I say. ‘I love this one.’

Ellie has stopped listening and is fully engrossed in the image of two dogs sharing meatballs at a restaurant-style table. Something rattles and I shift my gaze to Malcolm, to find him tossing some coal from a dusty black bucket onto a barely burning open fire. He tucks in a large safety guard that encapsulates the whole fireplace and says, ‘There. That should heat up soon.’

‘Don’t touch,’ I warn Ellie, who’s never seen a real fire in her life before. ‘It’s very hot.’

Malcolm leaves the room without another word and for a moment I’m not sure if I should follow him or not.

Soon he calls out, ‘Dinner won’t cook itself.’

I take my cue and find the kitchen at the end of the hallway. The kitchen is blue. Very blue. The walls are the colour of the sky on a summer’s day. The cupboards are a slightly darker shade, edging towards turquoise, and the floor tiles are a vibrant mix of both colours. It’s how I imagine being lost at sea might feel. There is a small, brown table in front of a large window overlooking a garden that I can tell under the snow is completely overgrown. Various sized and shaped trees and shrubs are dotted haphazardly around the space.

There’s a low buzzing sound coming from somewhere and I look round to discover that Malcolm has turned the oven on to preheat. He’s placed the plastic bags on the countertop with the groceries still inside. He’s fetched slippers from somewhere and he sits at the table with his legs crossed and I can’t see completely from where I’m standing but I think he’s attempting the crossword in the paper.

I have no idea what to say or do. I get the impression he wants me to unpack and make myself at home, but I don’t feel right.

‘Excuse me,’ I say, my voice catching like a lump in my throat. ‘What exactly is happening here?’

He puts down his pen and looks up at me, as if he’s the confused one.

‘Dinner,’ he says, with a firm nod.

‘Yes. I know. But…’ I search my brain for a way to make this all less strange, but I’m standing in odd socks in a man I scarcely know’s kitchen on Christmas Day with a petrol station-bought turkey on the countertop. I think we have long passed weird, so I decide to just spit it out.

‘You don’t expect me to cook alone, do you?’

He’s expressionless as he looks at me. The deep lines around his eyes and mouth don’t so much as budge.

‘I mean, you’re going to help, right?’

‘I wasn’t planning to.’

My eyes widen. ‘Oh, really.’

‘I’m not a good cook.’

I jam my hands onto my hips. ‘That sounds like an excuse to me.’

He smiles and the lines in his face deepen. ‘I’m not. I’m not at all. I can just about make beans on toast.’

I think of the smell of burnt toast that seems to have lessened now and I believe him.

‘Okay. We’ll start with basics,’ I say, making my way to the countertop to begin unpacking.

‘You’re going to teach me?’ he scoffs.

I pull out potatoes and carrots first. ‘You can start with these. Where do you keep your peeler?’

‘Don’t you think I’m a little old to learn how to cook now?’

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