Page 65 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Ah, that’s a really nice offer but I couldn’t put you out,’ I say.

His smile is warm and lights up the whole room. ‘It’s no trouble. It’s not as if I’m missing tantalising conversation here.’

We both glance at Malcolm sleeping soundly on the couch once more.

‘You’ve had wine.’ I try again to put him off.

He shakes his head. ‘Didn’t actually. White guy, remember?’

I remember, but I find myself wishing he liked red wine and can’t drive.

‘I think this little one needs a walk,’ I say, tilting my head towards Ellie, who is curled like a seashell on the couch next to Malcolm. She looks cosy and ready to join him in the land of nod. It breaks my heart to drag her out in the cold.

Shayne squints as he looks at Ellie and I can tell he thinks I’m crazy, but he doesn’t criticise or contradict my parenting.

My eyes narrow. Ellie falls asleep. I want to stay.

‘It’s pitch-dark out there.’ Shayne points towards the window, where tall streetlamps are doing a stellar job of painting the snowy landscape with a golden glue and it’s really quite beautiful, as if a Christmas card has come to life outside the window. ‘And freezing and there isn’t a soul out there. I can’t let you guys walk alone.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ I say, thinking of the short walk round the corner to the hospital.

‘Really, Bea, please. I just don’t feel right letting you trek across the city alone.’

I remember Shayne thinks we have to walk back to my old apartment, and the thought of walking all the way back across the city after he leaves us sends panic down my spine. But I have no choice. I cannot let anyone find out where Ellie and I really sleep. Not even Shayne or Malcolm. If anyone reported how dire things are for us the authorities would take Ellie away. I can’t lose her. A walk across the snowy city is a small price to pay to keep our secret safe.

‘You know what,’ I say, staring at the dark sky outside. ‘If you’re still offering, a lift would be great.’

‘I’ll get my keys.’

Shayne goes outside to start the car and I turn the TV volume down and cover Malcolm with a blanket. I find a pen on the coffee table and fetch the petrol-station Christmas card from behind the toaster. Inside readsMerry Christmas and HappyNew Yearin a dark bold font. I simply add,with love from Bea and Ellie xxand leave it and the pen on the coffee table.

Then I scoop Ellie into my arms, noting how much she’s grown and how heavy she’s getting. I slip my wellies back on and follow Shayne to a sporty silver car that doesn’t seem at all ready for the challenge of navigating the slippery roads. Thankfully he doesn’t bring up the lack of car seat again, but nonetheless guilt sits in my gut like a weight and it’s so heavy it feels as if it wants to pull me to the ground. Maybe Ellie would be better off if they did take her away. At least she’s have a car seat to keep her travel safe. And a cosy warm bed. And meals like today all the time. And Disney movies on TV. I push the thoughts aside quickly, remembering that, although I had all of these things when I was in foster care, it didn’t fill the void where a loving family should be. Ellie has me. I love her more than air. We can figure the rest out.

Shayne drives carefully and I begin to think we’d have been faster on foot. And yet, all too soon my old apartment block comes into view. It looks very different today, with the shops underneath closed up for the occasion. There’s no sandwich board outside the coffee shop. No buckets of multicoloured flowers in water outside the florist. No chatter of customers stopping by. Shutters are down and everyone is at home with their families. It’s exactly as it should be. Except for the final shutter that I know belongs to a small lashes and brows start-up business. The snow is cleared in a small area directly in front of the door and there is something bright and glossy on the ground. I strain my eyes for a better view and jolt when the glossy blue something moves and I realise it’s a sleeping bag. When Shayne parks the car next to the kerb, I can see a head of salt-and-pepper hair with a dark green beanie on top poking out. I balk and clutch my chest.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Shayne asks.

‘Someone’s there.’ I point.

‘Oh shit. Yeah.’

Shayne hops out of the car and hurries towards the sleeping bag and I open the back door and lift Ellie into my arms. I hold her tight, as if my warm embrace can keep us safe from our own homelessness.

‘Hey, buddy,’ I hear Shayne say as he crouches next to the sleeping bag. ‘Buddy, can you hear me? Are you okay?’

I edge closer. Scared. I’m not afraid of the poor unfortunate man sleeping on the ground, but seeing him cold and lonely, taking shelter in an icy doorway, terrifies me. A painful reminder that it could so easily be me. I lost myself today in Disney cartoons and delicious turkey, and it was marvellous. But already, it is over. Shayne will leave us here, in a place I pretend to live, and I will have to drag an exhausted child across an empty city to hide in a closet. The thought of it bends me in the middle and I almost let it break me. But I pull myself upright and roll my shoulders back.No!Ellie and I just have to hide for a little longer, long enough to save a month’s rent and find a new, real flatshare. I can do this. I have to. Ellie needs cartoons and good food every day and I am going to do everything I possibly can to make sure she gets it.

‘Buddy,’ Shayne calls out again, and the fear in his voice cuts through the icy air and demands my attention.

‘Is he okay?’ I call back, disturbing Ellie. She lifts her head off my shoulder and yawns.

‘Home,’ she says, sleepily, and my heart pinches.

‘Is he okay?’ I repeat, louder this time.

I see Shayne shake his head before I hear him say, ‘He’s breathing, but I can’t wake him. He’s like ice.’

I walk over, my feet crunching in the thick snow.

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