Page 93 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Some deer dart past and, when Ellie’s face lights up, Malcolm says, ‘This is where they come for a rest after Christmas. They are tired after flying all round the world with Santa.’

‘I hope this place is still here,’ Shayne says, as we begin walking towards the zoo area of the park. ‘You remember it, don’t you, Grandad? We used to come here every Sunday with Mam when I was little.’

There’s a flash of something in Malcolm’s eyes. Nostalgia and joy. But it’s fleeting. He shakes his head and says, ‘Don’t remember.’

Shayne sighs and I feel for him. I cup his ear and whisper, ‘He remembers.’

Shayne smiles. I pull away from him and raise my voice for everyone to hear. ‘I think I know the place. I used to go there with my parents. Before they passed.’

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Malcolm or Shayne’s, it’s gone too quickly to know whose.

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Shayne says. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Really. It’s okay. I don’t usually talk about them.’ My voice cracks on the last word and I’m not sure why. I don’t talk about my parents. I guess because I’ve never really had anyone to talk about them to. I told Declan, of course, and he said all the right generic things. And then we never really talked about it again.

‘Hey,’ Shayne says, stopping walking. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Course.’

He doesn’t believe me and he sidesteps closer to me.

‘C’mere,’ he says, draping an arm over my shoulder the way friends do.

Cora has thrown an arm over my shoulder many times, but it’s never felt quite like this. There’s something about my hip nestled against Shayne’s and his warm breath brushing over the top of my head that makes my knees want to buckle. There’s a sudden heat. As if December has melted away and it’s a summer’s day and I’m skipping carefree through a meadow of flowers. I allow myself to fall into the daydream for a moment. Fall and fall and fall. And then I hit the ground with a bang as I remember Declan. The father of my child. The man I have to sit face to face with in a few hours and try not to gouge his eyes out for my daughter’s sake.

‘I’m starving,’ I say, breaking away from Shayne to pick up the pace.

‘Erm, Bea,’ he says, catching up with me.

He looks back over his shoulder at Malcolm.

I cringe.Shit! How could I forget?

‘Sorry,’ I blurt, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment. ‘Hot chocolate overexcitement.’

Shayne edges closer to me. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I squeak, standing poker straight. ‘Course.’

There is a wedge between us for the rest of the day. I know, because I put it there. My heart is full of Shayne and Malcolm, but my head is full of Declan and Ellie. Shayne stops asking me if I’m okay after about the tenth time when it because obvious that I am not, but I don’t want to talk about it. Malcolm, however, doesn’t pick up on the obvious and says things like, ‘Cat got your tongue, Busy Bea?’ or, ‘Bees don’t buzz in winter, I suppose.’ Or my favourite: ‘Beatrice Alright, can’t fly a kite for shite.’ Ellie recited that one on repeat for at least a half an hour. She threw in some dancing and some clapping too.

‘Lovely, thank you, Malcolm. You know there’ll be war if she goes into crèche still singing that.’

Malcolm belly-laughs. ‘Any why shouldn’t she? How is she ever going to improve her singing if she doesn’t practise?’

I can’t argue with that.

When the weather drops another couple of degrees, Shayne says, ‘I better get you home, Grandad.’

Unsurprisingly, Malcolm protests. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

His teeth chatter and his voice wobbles and Ellie copies him, chopping her top and bottom teeth together quickly.

‘Well, I’m not,’ I say, truthfully. ‘I can’t feel my toes.’

Malcolm looks down at my feet and a sweet smile lights up his face when he spots my bright red wellies.

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