Page 68 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I didn’t notice Shayne get out of his car and I jump when I feel him tap my shoulder. ‘Everything okay?’ he asks.

‘She’s cold,’ Malcolm says. ‘But she won’t take my coat.’

Shayne runs a hand through his hair in a way that suggests he might have a headache. ‘It’s okay, Bea. You can take it if you need it. Grandad is going inside anyway, and I have the car here to pick him up when he’s done.’

‘Oh, your daughter,’ I say, feeling excited that he has finally decided to talk to her. ‘If you give me her name, I can find out which ward she works on, if that helps?’

Malcolm looks at me, confused.

‘My friend Órlaith on reception can look her up on the computer.’

Malcolm takes a deep breath. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I want to go home.’

‘But, Grandad, your appointment,’ Shayne says, and I can sense his frustration or worry.

‘Are you seeing a doctor today?’ I ask, gently. ‘I can help with that too, point you in the right direction. It’s a big hospital. Sometimes people struggle with finding which department is where. I spend a lot of my day giving people directions, actually.’

Malcolm stares at me with glistening eyes, and I’m concerned that he’s afraid a doctor might give him bad news today.

‘Take me home, Shayne,’ he says with a cough.

Shayne shakes his head. ‘Grandad, you really need to see this doctor. You need to find out what’s going on. What if you’re really sick?’

‘What if I’m dying, you mean.’

‘Jesus, Grandad.’ Shayne steps back, horrified by the idea.

Malcolm begins to shiver and I drape his coat over his shoulders. He’s too invested in his argument with his grandson to notice or to shake it off.

‘We’re all dying,’ Malcolm goes on. ‘Some of us just sooner than others.’

‘Can we please just go see what the doctor has to say?’ Shayne pleads.

‘I don’t need a doctor to tell me I’m old. My knees have been telling me that for twenty years already.’

Shayne folds his arms and sighs. ‘If you cancel now, it could take weeks to get another appointment. Months maybe.’

I can tell Shayne is stressing out. But it’s obvious that the more he tries to command Malcolm the further he will dig his heels in. I glance at Malcolm’s chequered coat and, although it’s a long shot, I have an idea.

‘Do you like chess?’ I ask.

Malcolm taps his chest. ‘Me?’

I nod.

‘I played once upon a time,’ he says.

Shayne seems surprised by this revelation.

‘My Alison and I liked the game. But that was a long time ago. I don’t play any more. It’s not a one-player game.’

‘I didn’t know you and Grandma liked chess,’ Shayne admits.

‘I wasn’t always an old codger.’ Malcolm chuckles. ‘I had hobbies, once upon a time, you know.’

Getting off topic, I steer the conversation back. ‘I could use a good chess player.’

Malcolm looks at me, unconvinced, and I can see the wordstake me homewritten on his face.

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