Page 91 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘Night.’

The line goes dead and I lower the phone and hold it against my chest for a while, thinking. Maybe I could send Shayne a text. I could thank him again for his help with Ellie and for picking me up. I could tell him I’m excited about kite-flying tomorrow. But I said all of those things already and, besides, it’s late. He’s probably already asleep. I finally work up the courage to take Cora’s advice and send a simple ‘good night,’ but when I turn my phone round, I see that a message has already come in.

Bea. I miss you. Can we talk? Dec x

I almost drop my phone. It’s a new number, and no doubt a new phone. I hum and haw for a long time before I save it to my contacts and type out a reply with shaking fingers.

What is there to talk about?

There’s a moment after I press send and before his next message arrives where I want him to apologise. I want him to say he made a terrible mistake and he loves us. I want him to want us. My screen lights up and I read his next message.

Everything.

Ellie. Me. You.

Us.

I miss you so much.

I never should have left.

I lower the phone and stare at the ground, replaying his words over in my mind. I wait for relief. Or happiness. Or that warm feeling that comes with kind words from a loved one. But I feel nothing. Not a single thing. It doesn’t make me feel better to know he’s thinking about us. I doesn’t fill me with happiness to know he regrets leaving us, the way I fantasised that it would. That first night on Cora’s couch, I lay awake for hours just willing him to text and say something so very like what he’s finally said now. Lying there, staring at Cora’s ceiling, I would have taken him back in a heartbeat. I would have swept over everything and hidden it under the carpet for the rest of my life. But now, sitting cramped in a smelly storage room, it’s all so different. I am numb and cold and Declan’s insincere words slide past me as if I am made of ice. I bring my gaze back to my phone and type again.

It’s late

His reply is instant.

Can we talk tomorrow?

Another message chases it.

Please? I love you.

I scoff and Ellie stirs. I hold my breath, hoping she won’t wake. Thankfully, she settles back into a deep sleep. I watch her for a moment, consumed with love. I love every inch of her. Her button nose, her rosy cheeks, the subtle dimple in her chin. I would give my life for her if I had to. And right now, I think that’s exactly what I would be doing to if I agreed to talk to Declan. He doesn’t love me. I know that much now. I’m starting to suspect he never did. But he is Ellie’s father. And, while it’s hard to believe after the way he’s acted, I want to think he loves her. Maybe he wants to come back into her life. I have to at least find out. My heart hurts, and, much as I don’t want to, I send another message.

Okay.

Great!

Where are you staying?

I can come meet you?

How does 10a.m. sound?

‘Are you kidding me?’ I say aloud, as if I am expecting a response from the universe.

I am busy in the morning.

Meet me at 6p.m.

The coffee shop under the apartment.

My heart aches as I type the wordapartment. A place where the three of us once seemed to fit so well, like jigsaw pieces designed to slot together. Our jigsaw is broken now. Missing apiece and bent out of shape. Even with all three pieces united again, I don’t think they will slot back together any more.

Okay. No problem. 6p.m. is good. I can’t wait. Dec x

I try to sleep but when I close my eyes it feels as if the ground beneath me is spinning. I think about Malcolm and Shayne and kites and how excited I was for a day with people who are the nearest to a family I have ever known. But they are not my family. I don’t have family. But Ellie does. And I have to prioritise that. I have to let Declan back in. Even if it breaks my heart.

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