Page 95 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Declan and I sit on stools either side of Ellie and the barista sets our order down.

‘Enjoy,’ she says, walking away.

Declan takes a sip of coffee, and I can tell by his face that it’s much too hot and he’s burned the roof of his mouth. I allow myself to smirk for a moment before wiping it off my face.

‘How was Christmas?’ he asks, turning to help Ellie poke the small plastic straw into the carton of juice.

‘So good,’ I say. ‘We spent it with friends.’

‘Ah, how is Cora?’ he asks, a little juice spilling over the edge of the straw as he pokes it in.

‘She’s fine. She was with her parents for Christmas.’

‘Oh, lovely. So you were in Wexford for the big day. I bet Ellie enjoyed that.’

‘No,’ I say, firmly. ‘Cora was in Wexford. Like I said, Ellie and I spent the day with friends. Here in Dublin.’

He looks confused and I enjoy it.

‘We goed to Malco’s house,’ Ellie says, with a mouthful of cookie.

‘Malco?’ Declan asks.

‘Yes, Malcolm and Shayne. You don’t know them,’ I go on. ‘But they kindly hosted Christmas and it was wonderful. The best Christmas Ellie and I have ever had, hands down.’

Declan tries his coffee again, and when he finds it’s still too hot he pushes it away and sighs. ‘I’m so sorry, Bea. I never should have put you in that position…spending Christmas with strangers.’

My gut clenches as if I’ve just been punched. I spent many, many Christmases with strangers growing up. That’s not what this was. It’s not what it felt like. Christmas with Malcolm and Shayne was wonderful. It was fun and welcoming and special. I want to tell him, but I know no matter what I say it will sound like a petty retaliation.

There is some silence, before I take a deep breath and ask, ‘Why are you here?’

Declan rubs his face with his hands, then lowers them and clasps them on his lap, as if he’s not quite sure where to put them.

‘I fucked up, Bea.’

Ellie almost drops her cookie and a look of horror sets on her face. ‘Oh, Daddy, that’s a bad word. Bad words are naughty.’

‘You’re right, Ellie, I’m sorry,’ he tells her.

She accepts his apology, smiles and returns to munching on her giant cookie. Declan leans back, so Ellie is no longer blocking his view of me. I lean slightly so my gaze can meet his. I want to look him in the eye for this conversation.

‘Do you really mean that?’ I ask.

He draws a cross on his chest with his fingertip.

‘And your wife? Does she know you’re here? Telling me this?’

‘She does. It’s over. I told her it’s you I want. You and Ellie.’

I narrow my eyes. I don’t believe him. I not sure I even want to. Just a few weeks ago, he told me she was his priority. Now it’s me and Ellie. Something has changed his perspective, but I’m not sure it’s us.

‘So yummy,’ Ellie says, dragging the sleeve of her coat across her mouth to dry up the chocolatey mess.

‘That’s good, chickpea,’ he says. ‘Eat up.’

‘So what are you saying here, Declan?’ I ask.

His eyes burn into mine until I feel the heat of them, as if they are scorching my soul. I want to look away and avoid getting singed, but I don’t let myself.

---