Page 98 of The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

‘What time will I pick Ellie up? Will I swing by your place before work?’

‘No!’

‘Erm…’

‘I mean, I’m already on my way to work. Left early.’

He doesn’t say anything but I swear I can almost hear the cogs in his brain trying to make sense of why I would go to work early after being up all night with a sick child. I decide it’s best to brush over it.

‘Could you pick her up at the hospital? Closer to you anyway so hopefully less hassle?’

‘Who’s that?’ I hear Malcolm’s raspy voice in the background.

‘Bea,’ Shayne calls back. ‘Ellie is going to come with us today.’

‘Good. Good.’

‘How about I meet you in reception in thirty minutes?’ Shayne asks.

‘Perfect.’ My insides relax. ‘Thank you so much.’

Ellie manages to eat a banana and polish off some juice that I saved from last night’s supper on the wards. Her colour is much brighter now, too. And by the time we are walking downstairs to reception she is her perky self.

Shayne is waiting by the front desk. His eyes brighten as soon as he sees us. Malcolm is standing next to him too; he looks more hunched than usual, and a pang of concern punches me in the gut. He looks even more unwell than Ellie did earlier. Maybe aday boating isn’t such a good idea after all. I try to catch a word with Shayne but Elle is talking nonstop.

‘No hat,’ I cut in, at last, pointing to his head.

‘You’re wasting your breath,’ Shayne says, ‘we already had this argument before we left the house.’

‘Silly Malcolm,’ Ellie says. ‘Jack Frost will bite you and you’ll get sick.’

‘And you were sick last night, chickpea,’ I remind her. ‘So you must wear your hat today, okay?’

Ellie shakes her head. ‘No. Scratchy.’

‘I know, I know, but it keeps you warm and keeps Jack Frost away,’ I say, popping her woolly pink hat with its small bobble on her head.

She pulls it off immediately and throws it on the ground.

‘Ellie,’ I say sternly, as I fetch it and put it back on.

It comes off again and she stomps her foot. Malcolm stretches his arm out to Shayne and opens his hand. Shayne looks on, confused for a moment, before he says, ‘Oh. Getcha,’ and reaches into his pocket for a blue-and-green knitted hat that he passes to his grandfather.

‘It’s not as nice as yours,’ Malcolm tells Ellie. ‘It doesn’t have a bobble.’

‘Is it scratchy too?’ she asks, making a face.

‘It’s a little bit scratchy, but it’s warm.’

Malcolm pops the stripy hat on his head, and I can tell he’s instantly irritated and itchy. I try not to laugh. Ellie smiles brightly and puts her hat on her head too.

‘Attagirl,’ Malcolm says, taking her hand. ‘You ready?’

‘I ready.’

‘Thank you,’ I mouth to Malcolm.

He winks.

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