The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

Routine takes shape quickly. I use opportunities throughout the day to sneak some food and board games into the storage room. Ellie’s favourites are strawberry jelly, cornflakes and apple juice. And she loves snakes and ladders, checkers and Connect4. A lot of the red Connect4 discs are missing. Ellie is always yellow and she always wins. We try to sneak into the storage room at the earliest opportunity, but sometimes Elaine stays late and we have to lap the grounds or take a walk into town to kill time. Ellie rarely complains; she’s too busy asking how many more sleeps until Santa.

Cora calls regularly.

‘So, how’s the new place? Is Ellie settling in? You still need to send me on your address. Come here for drinks. Or, I’ll come to you.’

The chitchat is effortless and I never lie.

‘Oh, you know. New place is a bit cramped but we’re making it work. Commute is good. But work is busy. I feel like I live here.’

‘I hear ya. I hear ya.’

There are plenty of missed calls too. I’ve started letting Cora’s number go to voicemail more and more often, especially as Christmas edges closer. I can’t have another conversation about joining her and her parents for the big day.

‘Please. Just have a think about it. That’s all I’m saying,’ her most recent voice message begins. ‘Finton is going to his parents so…’ There’s a pause before she goes on. ‘Mam and Dad haven’t seen you in ages and you know how much they love Ellie. They’d be so happy to have her bubbly little face brightening up all our Christmases. And it would get my mam off my back about when I’m going to settle down and pop a kid.’ She giggles awkwardly. ‘Anyway, pleeeeeeease. What do I have to do to convince you? Seriously, Bea. Call me back!’

My reply to Cora’s badgering is always consistent.

‘Ellie and I need this Christmas alone. We need to stand on our own feet. It’s a lovely offer, and please tell your mam and dad I was asking for them.’

Of course, it couldn’t be further from the truth. The last thing I want for Ellie is a Christmas alone with me, hiding out in a tiny room with no windows. But four-year-olds talk. I’ve no doubt that, after a couple of games of I-Spy with Cora’s parents, Ellie would be full of stories about our closet life. It’s hard enough trying to throw Alannah off the scent – not that she cares, she’s just curious. But Cora and her family have known me since day one of college. They can read me like a book. I wouldn’t be able to hide something this huge from them. Not in person. I try to push thoughts of Cora’s mam’s amazing roast spuds and gravy from my mind and resign myself to a Christmas dinner of pot noodle and a bar of chocolate for dessert.

I wait until Christmas Eve to collect Ellie’s Barbie house from Cora’s flat. I’ve left it until the last minute for a variety of reasons. It’s going to be almost impossible to hide a three-storey, luminous pink doll’s house in such a small space without Ellie spotting it. But more to the point, I waited for a day Finton was home and Cora was not. I haven’t seen my best friend since I left her flat. I don’t realise until I’m on the bus on my lunch break, on the way to the flat, that I’ve actively been avoiding her. It’s not because I don’t want to see her. It’s because I can’t. It’s one thing to tell her in a message that my life is fine. It’s another thing entirely to lie to her face.

Finton greets me at the door of the flat. ‘Oh, hi, Bea,’ he says, clearly shocked by my unexpected arrival. ‘Cora’s not here, I’m afraid.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I say.

He makes a face that asks, Then why the hell are you here?

I answer his unasked question. ‘I just stopped by to pick up Ellie’s doll’s house?’

He stares blankly.

‘The Barbie one?’

There’s still nothing from him and I don’t understand. It’s a huge pink box. It’s kind of hard to miss. Cora hid it in the bottom of their wardrobe, but surely he’s come across it by now.

‘It’s Ellie’s Santa present,’ I go on.

His brows pinch before he says, ‘Oh, shit. That thing.’

Relief washes over me and I wait for him to ask me in.

‘Shit, Bea. I thought Cora bought that for Dotty.’

‘Dotty?’

‘My niece,’ he explains. ‘She’s four. Barbie mad.’

‘Yes. All four-year-olds are. Blame Margot Robbie.’

He laughs as if I’m hilarious. But I know for a fact he doesn’t find me funny.

‘Listen, I hate to rush, but I’m on my lunch break and I really need to get back. I’ve been late a few times too many recently and my boss is going mad.’

‘Right, right,’ he says, and his voice is strained as he claps his hands and presses them down on his head. ‘Look, Bea. I gave that thing to my sister. For Dotty, you know. I really thought?—’

‘You gave it away?’

It’s a startled question but it comes out like a snappy statement.

‘Yeah,’ he says, lowering his hands to let them fall limp by his sides. ‘Like I said, I thought Cora bought it for Dotty. You know how much she loves kids.’

‘Can you get it back? I mean, your niece hasn’t opened it or anything. Just swap it for something else.’

‘Can’t. My sis is gone to Mayo for Christmas. Left yesterday.’

‘Fuck!’

My head is spinning and I want to cry. I think I might already be, but I can’t tell.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll pay you for it. How much was it?’

I look at my watch and shake my head. ‘It’s Christmas Eve,’ I tell him as if he doesn’t already know. ‘Everywhere closes early.’

‘Maybe you could pick one up after Christmas, they might even be cheaper in the sale. Kids get some much stuff for Christmas anyway, she probably won’t even notice.’

‘There is no other stuff,’ I say, as tears stream down my cheeks. I cannot bear to think of Ellie’s face tomorrow morning when she wakes up thinking Santa forgot her.

‘I know,’ he says, in a sudden lightbulb moment. ‘Cora got something for her. It’s here somewhere, hang on.’

He hurries into the flat, leaving me standing at the door. Time ticks by in painful slow motion until he returns with a colourful forest-green bag that proudly declaims Happy Christmas, Princess across the front in a swirly gold font.

I look inside. There are jammies, a Barbie in a rectangular pink box complete with a dog and bowl and a tiny bone, a giant lollipop and a rainbow-coloured skipping rope.

I breathe out, making myself almost light-headed. ‘Thank you, Cora,’ I say, choking back tears, as if she can hear me.

‘It’s good?’ he asks like a schoolboy looking for praise from a teacher.

‘It’s life-saving,’ I say, and it’s only a slight exaggeration.

‘Oh, here,’ he adds, shoving his hand into the back pocket of his jeans to pull out his wallet. ‘For the Barbie house. How much was it?’

I’m about to tell him when he shoves four fifty-euro notes at me. I’m not quite sure what to say as I fumble and take the money.

He smiles, as if he’s delighted with himself, as he says, ‘Anyway, I really am sorry about the mix-up. I hope you guys have a great Christmas. I’ll tell Cora you called, yeah?’

I should probably wish him a happy Christmas too. He is the love of my best friend’s life, after all. But all I can manage as I stand outside the flat that he hasn’t invited me to step foot into is, ‘Okay. Bye.’

I walk away clutching the bag of small gifts that will be much easier to hide in the storage room than an oversized doll’s house. I promise myself that, if I have to sing Christmas carols until I lose my voice, I am going to make sure Ellie has a wonderful Christmas.