Page 89 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Erm…’

‘It’s just a catch-up, Bea. I haven’t seen you in ages. I promise not to tire you out.’

It’s getting harder and harder to keep avoiding her. And each time I fob her off hurts my soul a little bit more.

‘I miss Ellie too,’ she says, scratching at my heart.

Ellie is tucked up in a mound of blankets on the storage room floor, sleeping with a huge smile on her face. She was exhausted after a fun day with Malcolm. They walked in the park. Fed some ducks. Got some ice cream in December. Got some brain freeze, which they both complained about for a solid thirty minutes.Watched a movie. Ate popcorn and jellies for lunch. Ordered pizza. With pineapple. Ellie loved it. Shayne said it was a crime. Malcolm taught Ellie to jive even though she stood on his toes countless times. Shayne wanted to drop us home, as usual.

‘I would really rather you stay with him,’ I said, and I didn’t feel guilty about using Malcolm’s health as a cover, because I truthfully don’t want him to be alone.

‘But—’ Shayne tried to protest.

‘Please. Just take care of him.’

Shayne nodded. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow for some kiting?’

‘Yes you will.’

‘And I don’t suppose there’s any point offering to come pick you up?’

‘Nope. We’ll meet you there.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay.’

There was a moment at the front door where we were so close that if either of us leaned forward, our lips might have touched. And there was a moment at the front door where I really, really wanted that to happen. But, instead, Shayne said, ‘Good night.’ And Ellie and I started walking.

‘Why didn’t you call Finton?’ Cora says, and I wonder if she’s been talking all this time while I zoned out.

‘Hmm?’

‘Last night. He’s back from his sister’s in Mayo. He’d have picked you up. Brought you and Ellie to ours.’

‘I don’t have his number.’

‘Oh. God, really?’

‘Nope.’

‘Jesus, Bea.’ I can hear her embarrassment. ‘Hang on, I’ll give it to you right now. In case there’s ever another emergency. Have you got a pen?’

I do not have a pen. But even if I did, I’m not going to write down Finton’s number. Or punch it into my phone, or whatever else Cora is about to suggest. But, even if I had Finton’s number, I would never call him.

I don’t answer her and when I leave a long pause, I think we are both thinking similarly.

‘Who watched Ellie?’ Cora asks, her voice almost as low as mine. ‘Surely she didn’t stay in the hospital with you?’

I want to scream that Ellie is in the hospital with me right now. But, of course, I bite my tongue. I can literally hear the alarm bells chiming in Cora’s head. My story has more holes than my work tights. I should probably regret calling her in blind panic last night. Setting her sniffer instincts off, like a dog after a bone. But I don’t. I miss confiding in my best friend. Part of me wishes I could tell her everything. But another part, a greater, more guarded part, knows I will have to settle for telling her some.

‘I called Shayne,’ I whisper at last.

‘Who?’

I take a breath. ‘My boss’s son.’

‘Oh wow,’ she says, and I can almost hear her eyes widen and a wicked smirk creep across her face. ‘Beatrice Alright, you cheeky devil, the boss’s son.’ She laughs. ‘I like it.’

---