Page 8 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘This can’t be happening,’ I gasp. ‘This can’t actually be happening. When? How long? Have you always been married? Jesus, Declan. What the hell. Who the hell are you? Actually don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know. Married. My God, married.’

My thoughts are spilling past my lips before they have time to fully take shape in my head.

‘We have an understanding. My wife and I,’ he says calmly, as if he hasn’t just turned my whole world upside down.

‘Oh. Oh. An understanding. Well, that’s all right then.’ My words are clipped and reflect the anger that swells inside me like tiny bombs exploding.

‘What I mean is, she understands how lonely travelling so much can be.’

‘So, she knows about me?’

He winces and steps closer to me. I step back.

‘She knows I don’t do well alone.’

‘So, there are others?’ I ask, a little sick trying to squirm up the back of my throat.

We repeat the process of him stepping forward and me stepping back. We’re standing in the middle of our bedroom now. It’s not a particularly large room, but all the furniture feels unusually far away. As if I’m stranded on an island, and I can see familiar landmarks but they are too far to swim to.

‘Are there others?’ I repeat, eyeing up the door as if it’s one of those landmarks that feels almost impossible to reach.

‘There were. Before.’

I tap my chest with my fingertip. ‘Before me.’

‘Before Ellie.’

A noise comes out of me, something guttural and full of hurt, as I hear our beautiful daughter’s name pass his lips. Our precious little girl, who is sitting on the sofa watching her favourite show. I thought I would tuck her into bed tonight engaged to her father, and we would be one big, happy family. I dreamed of it.

‘What are you saying, Declan?’

Declan takes a deep breath and this time, when he moves forward, I don’t step back. I look him in the eye and wait for an answer I’m afraid might ruin my life.

‘I’m saying she found out about Ellie.’

My mouth rounds into the shape of an ‘oh’ but no sound comes out.

‘She can handle the affairs, but a child is different,’ he says, as if somehow his wife is being difficult.

‘Ellie is four,’ I tell him, as if he doesn’t know our daughter’s age. ‘You hid your daughter’s existence for four years. Who the hell does that?’

‘Listen, baby.’ He places his hands on me and I don’t budge. I can’t muster the strength to move. Not even to shake him off. ‘None of this is your fault. Or Ellie’s.’

My eyes widen until they burn, and from nowhere a bolt of energy rushes through me and I push him away. He stumbles, and falls onto the bed. He looks up at me, open-mouthed as if he’s hurt. I want to scream. I almost do, but I remember my little girl in the next room just in time. I can’t scare her.

And so, I keep my voice low when I ask, ‘Why are you telling me this? Why now?’

‘Elsa is devastated,’ he says, getting to his feet again.

‘Elsa!’ I repeat his wife’s name. ‘Your wife seriously has the same name as Ellie’s favourite Disney character. I can’t believe this. I actually can’t. How many times have you watched that damn movie? And all the time you must have been thinking abouther. This is too much. My God, it’s too much.’

Declan presses his fingers between his eyes the way he always does when he feels a headache coming on.

‘She always wanted a daughter,’ he says. ‘But we have three boys.’

‘You have other kids?!’ I throw my arms in the air as if I am a wounded solider surrendering. ‘Of course you do. Oh, this just gets better and better.’

I can’t breathe. For a moment it is as if his words have wrapped round my neck like a noose and they are choking me. It’s a while before I draw in air again and realise that he’s staring at me, pitifully. As if he’s expecting me to ask something about them. How old they are, perhaps. Do they look like him? Or, worse still, do they look like Ellie? The sudden discovery that my daughter has three brothers is monumental and I can’t function.I need to sit. I need to feel his arms around me. Holding me, hugging me, comforting me. I ache to feel his lips on mine as he whispers that everything will be all right. I need him to love me, the way just moments ago I believed he did. I need him to rewind the past ten minutes and take it all back. I need the life we were supposed to have. But instead, I cannot bear the sight of him.

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