Page 73 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I add up the cost of a Big Mac and a Happy Meal in my head and hope that splashing out will make me seem a bit more normal. I’ll have to make sure it’s just this once though, I can’t set my flat deposit back again.

‘Okay. Sounds good,’ I say.

Shayne’s eyes twinkle and I notice, how incredibly blue they are today. Like the sky after rainclouds clear away.

‘I’ll pick you up. Will we say seven?’

My breath catches as I think of him pulling up outside my old apartment and waiting for Ellie and me to walk through the doors.

‘I…I have to collect Ellie from crèche. And traffic can be bad. I’ll meet you there. How about McDonald’s on Grafton Street at seven instead?’

‘Okay, cool,’ he says, obviously thinking nothing of my change of plan. ‘Perfect.’

Butterflies return to my stomach and spend the rest of the day there. It’s the first time in weeks that I have actually looked forward to something, and it’s such a refreshing feeling that if I think about it too hard I get teary. It’s only a burger with some friends, but it’s a big deal. Huge.

THIRTY

I wish I had something nicer to wear. My straight-leg blue jeans have a stain on the left thigh that I’ve tried to hand-scrub in the bathroom sink at work, but it’s stubborn and needs a spin cycle. I wear them regardless, and match them with a woolly cream jumper that I think is Cora’s and has got mixed in with my stuff. I’ve lost so much weight that everything is too big, sitting on me as if I am a coat hanger, but Ellie smiles at me as she sits on an upturned yellow mop bucket and says, ‘You’re the prettiest mammy in the world.’

I kiss her head and tell her she looks like a princess. She’s wearing pink leggings with ‘Frozen’ written down the side and a matching pink jumper with a glitter Elsa on the front. Her clothes fit her just fine, and I’m so grateful that the crèche provides her with three healthy meals a day. I only have to worry about feeding her at the weekend. Or this one-off McDonald’s.

We wrap up in our coats and hats and gloves, and sneak out of the storage room. We’ve become extremely good at getting in and out undetected. Ellie thinks it’s a fun game.

‘First one to make a sound loses,’ I remind her every time, and then we pretend to zip our lips with our fingers.

I peek into the hall, and when I’m sure no one is coming we make a dash for it.

‘I win, I win,’ she says, as soon as we reach the stairs and it’s safe to be seen.

‘Yes you do, chickpea. You’re sooooo good at this game. And remember, sometimes you fall asleep at Mammy’s work cos I’m so busy. We still live in our lovely apartment, don’t we?’

‘Busy Bea,’ Ellie chirps, echoing Malcolm.

‘Yes, yes. I’m a busy bee.’

My gut clenches every time I fill Ellie’s head with the same lie. But I cannot risk her telling anyone that we are living at the hospital now. And besides, it’s only temporary. Soon we’ll have a new flat and she can tell all her friends, and nosey Alannah, about that.

Outside, the snow is melting and the ground is slushy and wet. I left my wellies in the storage room, and I know Malcolm will have something to say about it. Just thinking about it makes me smile. Ellie holds my hand and skips contently by my side as we walk. She tells me about the Lego tower she built.

‘And I shared all my blocks.’

‘Good girl.’

‘And then, and then, and then…’

Ellie talks nonstop the whole way across the city. And we blend in effortlessly with the other people out and about braving the cold. We are just a mother and her happy child, strolling carefree. No one would ever look at us and think we have no home to go back to. And I am grateful for that, at least.

McDonald’s is crazy busy. Everyone has finally had their fill of turkey and ham and is desperate for the familiarity of fast food. Ellie and I lap the place a couple of times searching for Malcolm and Shayne. Thankfully, Malcolm’s chequered coat and colourful scarf stand out, and on our second trip upstairs I spot him and Shayne seated in the corner. Shayne raises his arm andwaves and Ellie lets out a shriek of delight as she lets go of my clammy hand and races towards them.

‘Malco, Malco, Malco,’ she calls out, wrapping herself round the old man.

‘Careful, Ellie,’ I call back, worried she might hurt him.

But Malcolm belly-laughs and I know he’s fine. He sits her on his knee and asks her what she would like.

Ellie sings her order off the top of her head. I join them at the perfect-size-for-four table and my bum has barely touched the plastic bench seat when Shayne stands up and asks, ‘And you, Bea. What can I get you?’

‘Oh, no, honestly. Ellie and I can get our own.’ It comes out slightly offended, which it’s not, but I think subconsciously I want to stress how much Icando this.It’s just a McDonald’s, my mind plays on repeat.

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