Page 60 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘No. I do not,’ I say, pulling out the rest of the ingredients for dinner from the bags. ‘You’re never too old to learn something new.’

I expect him to grumble and find an excuse to get back to his crossword. And If he does, I won’t argue. It’s his house after all. He’s paid for dinner and given me and Ellie a warm house to enjoy a good meal in. But he rolls up his sleeves with a force of determination that is both unnecessarily intense and wholly admirable.

We stuff the turkey, boil the ham, peel potatoes and carrots and chat effortlessly. I tell Malcolm about Declan and he says, ‘What a prick.’ I drop a carrot on my toe with shock and Malcolm says, ‘Don’t waste good vegetables on the prick.’

He tells me about his wife who passed twenty years ago and his voice cracks every time he says her name. ‘My Alison was a beauty. My Alison was an amazing cook. My Alison had the best taste in décor. My Alison was the love of my life. She was the only one who could keep the peace between me and my daughter.’

I try asking him about what happened. How they ended up not speaking. ‘You must miss her,’ I say. ‘Almost as much as you miss your wife.’

Malcolm doesn’t reply. He bends down and opens a low cupboard. I worry when it takes him a long time to stand back up. But slowly he pulls himself upright and turns round to display a bottle of wine.

‘I hope you like red,’ he says.

I smile.

He fetches two ginormous glasses that I’m almost certain are gin goblets and not wine glasses. He struggles a little with the cork, but finally it pops and he pours generously into both glasses. We join Ellie in the sitting room with our wine as we wait for the turkey and ham to cook. Ellie sings along with thesongs at the top of her lungs and Malcolm says, ‘You really need to get that child some singing lessons.’

The movie ends and another begins straight away.

‘Frozen,’ Ellie shrieks with delight when the opening credits to her favourite movie begin to play. She spins around and sings and I have to warn her countless times not to twirl into the fire. Malcolm spends a lot of the movie with his hands over his ears and his face scrunched.

‘Ellie, shh. Not so loud,’ I say, draining my glass and feeling the wine go to my head.

I look at Malcolm to find his glass is barely touched. Instead, his head is flopped onto the back of the couch, his mouth is open and a raspy snore rattles his chest. Ellie soon tires of spinning and comes to sit beside me on the couch. Within minutes, there is a small child asleep on one side of me and an elderly man asleep on the other and it feels exactly as I imagine Christmas should. I sit contently for quite some time before the sound of the front door opening startles me and I hurry into the hall.

Shayne clutches his chest and jumps back when he sees me.

‘Bea. Wow. Hello?’

His surprise is natural and reasonable and yet it still rattles me and I find myself stumbling over words.

‘I, eh, your grandad invited me. And Ellie. Ellie is here. She’s asleep. He’s asleep too. Your grandad, I mean. Asleep on the couch. We had some wine. Well, I had wine. He didn’t really drink his. And I’m cooking dinner. It’s in the oven right now, and, eh…’ I pause and catch my breath as if I’m coming up from under water. ‘And so, yeah, I’m cooking.’

He nods as if anything I just said makes sense and doesn’t raise a million questions.

‘It’s nice to see you again. I didn’t think I would.’

‘No. Yeah. Yes. No.’ I shake my head and try again. ‘I didn’t think so either. But then I bumped into your grandad?—’

‘At the hospital again, was he?’ Shayne asks.

I know it’s a rhetorical question but I find myself answering nonetheless.

‘Yeah. On the bench again.’

Shayne sighs and I can sense his sadness that his mother and his grandfather don’t speak. I wonder if I should bring it up, but I squash the thought quickly, knowing it’s the wine talking.

‘He wasn’t wearing a hat again,’ I settle on saying instead.

Shayne laughs and I know it’s come out like a small child telling tales. Ellie does it all the time.So-and-so took my toy car. And they wouldn’t let me be the leader. And they did a wee-wee on the floor.

‘Is there any more wine?’ he asks.

I nod. ‘In the kitchen.’

‘Another glass?’ he asks.

‘Sure,’ I say, too quickly, and he laughs again.

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