Page 86 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

I can feel Shayne’s eyes on me the whole way as we make the long walk from the ward, through the hospital and out to the car park. He helps me into the car and I buckle up.

‘Ready?’ he asks, but I know there’s another question in there and it’s making me nervous.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘No idea,’ Shayne says. ‘I haven’t been in Dublin in eight years, so I don’t really know anywhere.’

‘Wow. I didn’t realise it was that long. But your grandad and your mam have been to visit you in New York though, right?’

The women in work like to talk. And bragging about foreign travel is the order of most days.

‘Oh, we’re just back from the Maldives, lovely this time of year.’

‘Really? We prefer the Caribbean ourselves.’

‘Oh, no, ladies. Europe is so much easier to get to. You just have to try the Amalfi coast. Oh, the wine. Oh, the food. I’ll need to diet for a month.’

If Elaine had taken a trip to New York in recent years, I’m sure she’d have mentioned it to at least one colleague, who would have mentioned it to someone else, and the gossip wouldhave inevitably spread like wildfire as usual. Then again, I’ve never heard Elaine share much. I didn’t know she had a son before now either.

I realise I’ve zoned out and am staring out the car window. We haven’t started moving yet and I’m not sure if Shayne has asked me a question or not.

‘What did you say?’ I try, hoping he’s said something.

‘I was just saying I don’t know Dublin, so maybe you could suggest somewhere? Is that little place under your apartment good?’

‘Oh, that place,’ I say, surprised he noticed it when we were busy helping John. ‘Nah, not great. Coffee is bitter.’

‘Oh. Pity.’

‘Why don’t you Google somewhere,’ I suggest, trying to shove the focus as far away from my old apartment as possible. ‘Be nice to try somewhere I haven’t been before either.’

He pulls out his phone and taps on it for a while before saying, ‘MrBean’s.’

‘Sure.’

He laughs, and turns his phone round so I can see that the logo of the coffee shop proudly sports a picture of Rowan Atkinson in a brown suit, with a cream shirt and a red tie.

‘Ha ha, MrBeans,’ I say, ‘Like coffee beans. Wehaveto try there.’

He reads on and says, ‘Um, it says the best coffee in the mountains.’

‘The mountains?’

‘It says it’s in the Dublin Mountains. Oh, probably a bit far.’ His face falls.

The Dublin Mountains are about a half an hour away by car. Perfectly far away from my old life, and I feel lighter just thinking about the view of the city from up there.

‘If your grandad is okay to watch Ellie for a bit longer, I don’t see why we can’t try it.’

‘Okay, cool. MrBean’s here we come.’

Shayne starts the car and we drive. The snow is almost completely melted now and city life has reverted to normal. I wish it was that easy for me and Ellie. I wish all our trouble could melt away too.

‘You should try to sleep for a while,’ Shayne suggests as we leave the city behind, and I realise I’ve been quiet for ages.

‘I’m okay,’ I say, truthfully.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this rested.

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