The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

It’s not long before Shayne and Ellie return with a tree that Shayne can just about manage to carry tucked under his arm.

‘What’s that?’ Malcolm asks, slowly getting to his feet.

Shayne sets the tree down between them. It’s tall and narrow, coming up past his shoulders.

‘That’s one funny-looking Christmas tree.’ Malcolm rolls his eyes.

‘I did my best,’ Shayne says. ‘It’s so snowy outside I couldn’t see a thing. And this was green and tall. It does the job.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do.’ Shayne nods. ‘And besides, Ellie likes it.’

‘I like it, I like it,’ Ellie says, clapping her hands.

Water is staring to pool on the tiles where the last of the snow melts from the branches.

‘Don’t slip, Grandad,’ Shayne says, as he picks the tree up once more. ‘You either, Ellie, be careful.’

I smile at his consideration for both the elderly and the very young. He takes the tree into the sitting room, where Sleeping Beauty is playing on the television. Malcolm fetches the coal. He struggles with the weight of the half-full bucket and I hurry to help. We place it in the corner and Shayne pops the tree in. It’s tricky to get it to stay standing in the bucket and we have to move the coals around at the base like little weights locking it in place. We wash our hands and return to admire our handiwork.

‘It’s crooked.’ Malcolm tuts.

‘It’s fine,’ Shayne says.

‘It’s the bestest,’ Ellie chirps.

‘Do we have any decorations?’ I ask.

Malcolm shakes his head. ‘This was stupid. It’s just a regular garden tree in a bucket.’

Shayne raises his hand. ‘Hang on,’ he says, then disappears.

He returns moments later with a roll of toilet paper, the paper hats and the remains of crackers that are already cracked.

‘We just need a little colour,’ he says, the American in his accent sounding thicker and excited.

Ellie takes the hats and hangs each one carefully on a branch. Then she takes the hats from her head and adds those too. However, I’m unsurprised when she keeps the yellow one for her head. Next, Shayne shows her how to roll the cracker halves into colourful balls, which attempt to unroll almost as soon as they let go. They pop them on various branches like paper baubles. Lastly, Shayne and Ellie wind toilet paper round and round the tree.

‘Just like tinsel,’ Shayne says.

Malcolm folds his arms. ‘Nothing like tinsel. I hope the neighbours don’t see this thing.’

Ellie leaves her decorating spot and takes the old man’s hand as she guides him closer. ‘Do you like it, Malco?’ she asks.

His brittle exterior melts like butter as he holds her hand and a huge smile takes over his whole face. ‘I think it’s wonderful.’

When I spent Christmases in foster care, sitting at the tables of people I barely knew and watching them interact effortlessly, I always wondered what it would be like to be a part of a family. What it would be like to be inside the bubble, rather than on the outside staring in through the shimmering surface. Right now, watching Malcolm hold Ellie’s hand the way a loving grandfather might and telling her the world’s quite possibly ugliest abomination of a wannabe Christmas tree is wonderful, is the nearest I have ever felt to being inside the bubble.

After, Shayne opens a box of Cadbury Roses and we all sit down to catch the last of Sleeping Beauty . It’s perfectly mundane and by far the best Christmas in years. It’s dark outside when the movie ends, and Malcolm is napping again.

I stand up to stretch my legs and say, ‘We should probably get going.’

‘Nooooo,’ Ellie grumbles with chocolate-rimmed lips. ‘I don’t wanna go.’

‘You’re more than welcome to stay,’ Shayne says, sounding as deflated as Ellie about the prospect of the day coming to an end. ‘I could open more wine. Grandad has a cupboard full. There’s some gin there too if you’d rather?—’

‘No, no, God no,’ I say, quickly. The thought of sneaking back into the storage room tipsy fills me with dread.

‘Okay, at least let me drop you home, yeah?’

My dread cranks up a notch to complete panic. Shayne can’t drop us back to the hospital. What would I even say? ‘Oh, I love cleaning vomit so much, I even pop in hoping for some Christmas puke’?

‘Ah, that’s a really nice offer but I couldn’t put you out,’ I say.

His smile is warm and lights up the whole room. ‘It’s no trouble. It’s not as if I’m missing tantalising conversation here.’

We both glance at Malcolm sleeping soundly on the couch once more.

‘You’ve had wine.’ I try again to put him off.

He shakes his head. ‘Didn’t actually. White guy, remember?’

I remember, but I find myself wishing he liked red wine and can’t drive.

‘I think this little one needs a walk,’ I say, tilting my head towards Ellie, who is curled like a seashell on the couch next to Malcolm. She looks cosy and ready to join him in the land of nod. It breaks my heart to drag her out in the cold.

Shayne squints as he looks at Ellie and I can tell he thinks I’m crazy, but he doesn’t criticise or contradict my parenting.

My eyes narrow. Ellie falls asleep. I want to stay.

‘It’s pitch-dark out there.’ Shayne points towards the window, where tall streetlamps are doing a stellar job of painting the snowy landscape with a golden glue and it’s really quite beautiful, as if a Christmas card has come to life outside the window. ‘And freezing and there isn’t a soul out there. I can’t let you guys walk alone.’

‘We’ll be fine,’ I say, thinking of the short walk round the corner to the hospital.

‘Really, Bea, please. I just don’t feel right letting you trek across the city alone.’

I remember Shayne thinks we have to walk back to my old apartment, and the thought of walking all the way back across the city after he leaves us sends panic down my spine. But I have no choice. I cannot let anyone find out where Ellie and I really sleep. Not even Shayne or Malcolm. If anyone reported how dire things are for us the authorities would take Ellie away. I can’t lose her. A walk across the snowy city is a small price to pay to keep our secret safe.

‘You know what,’ I say, staring at the dark sky outside. ‘If you’re still offering, a lift would be great.’

‘I’ll get my keys.’

Shayne goes outside to start the car and I turn the TV volume down and cover Malcolm with a blanket. I find a pen on the coffee table and fetch the petrol-station Christmas card from behind the toaster. Inside reads Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in a dark bold font. I simply add, with love from Bea and Ellie xx and leave it and the pen on the coffee table.

Then I scoop Ellie into my arms, noting how much she’s grown and how heavy she’s getting. I slip my wellies back on and follow Shayne to a sporty silver car that doesn’t seem at all ready for the challenge of navigating the slippery roads. Thankfully he doesn’t bring up the lack of car seat again, but nonetheless guilt sits in my gut like a weight and it’s so heavy it feels as if it wants to pull me to the ground. Maybe Ellie would be better off if they did take her away. At least she’s have a car seat to keep her travel safe. And a cosy warm bed. And meals like today all the time. And Disney movies on TV. I push the thoughts aside quickly, remembering that, although I had all of these things when I was in foster care, it didn’t fill the void where a loving family should be. Ellie has me. I love her more than air. We can figure the rest out.

Shayne drives carefully and I begin to think we’d have been faster on foot. And yet, all too soon my old apartment block comes into view. It looks very different today, with the shops underneath closed up for the occasion. There’s no sandwich board outside the coffee shop. No buckets of multicoloured flowers in water outside the florist. No chatter of customers stopping by. Shutters are down and everyone is at home with their families. It’s exactly as it should be. Except for the final shutter that I know belongs to a small lashes and brows start-up business. The snow is cleared in a small area directly in front of the door and there is something bright and glossy on the ground. I strain my eyes for a better view and jolt when the glossy blue something moves and I realise it’s a sleeping bag. When Shayne parks the car next to the kerb, I can see a head of salt-and-pepper hair with a dark green beanie on top poking out. I balk and clutch my chest.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Shayne asks.

‘Someone’s there.’ I point.

‘Oh shit. Yeah.’

Shayne hops out of the car and hurries towards the sleeping bag and I open the back door and lift Ellie into my arms. I hold her tight, as if my warm embrace can keep us safe from our own homelessness.

‘Hey, buddy,’ I hear Shayne say as he crouches next to the sleeping bag. ‘Buddy, can you hear me? Are you okay?’

I edge closer. Scared. I’m not afraid of the poor unfortunate man sleeping on the ground, but seeing him cold and lonely, taking shelter in an icy doorway, terrifies me. A painful reminder that it could so easily be me. I lost myself today in Disney cartoons and delicious turkey, and it was marvellous. But already, it is over. Shayne will leave us here, in a place I pretend to live, and I will have to drag an exhausted child across an empty city to hide in a closet. The thought of it bends me in the middle and I almost let it break me. But I pull myself upright and roll my shoulders back. No! Ellie and I just have to hide for a little longer, long enough to save a month’s rent and find a new, real flatshare. I can do this. I have to. Ellie needs cartoons and good food every day and I am going to do everything I possibly can to make sure she gets it.

‘Buddy,’ Shayne calls out again, and the fear in his voice cuts through the icy air and demands my attention.

‘Is he okay?’ I call back, disturbing Ellie. She lifts her head off my shoulder and yawns.

‘Home,’ she says, sleepily, and my heart pinches.

‘Is he okay?’ I repeat, louder this time.

I see Shayne shake his head before I hear him say, ‘He’s breathing, but I can’t wake him. He’s like ice.’

I walk over, my feet crunching in the thick snow.

‘It must be minus something out here,’ Shayne goes on as he looks up at the cloudy sky that might spit heavy snow at any moment. ‘We can’t leave him here. He won’t make it through the night. Especially not if it gets any colder.’

I nod. ‘We should call an ambulance?’

Shayne shakes his head. ‘We need to get him warm right now. I say we get him into the car and drive to the hospital.’

I balk for a moment. I think about a journey across the city with a dying man and my four-year-old in the back of the car.

‘What if he’s dangerous?’

Shayne looks at me seriously. ‘I think this poor man is a little too busy struggling to survive, to have time to hurt anyone.’

I nod. I hate myself for going there. I can only imagine what people would say about me if they knew. They’d blame drugs. Or booze. Or maybe a gambling habit.

‘Get him into the car,’ I say.

I put Ellie down so I can help Shayne lift the man. We manage to get him onto his feet and he drops in and out of consciousness.

‘What’s your name?’ Shayne asks.

It takes six attempts and baby steps across the footpath but finally we get him into the car and learn his name is John and he’s been homeless eleven months.

Eleven months. The thought of still living in the storage room in almost a year’s time consumes me and quickly I remind myself of my savings that are going to get Ellie and me out of this mess. In eleven months our lives will be back on track. In eleven months we will be okay. We have to be.

I sit in the back seat with Ellie and John. Shayne starts the engine, but before we drive off he twists round in his seat to look at me.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Just worried about John,’ I say, which isn’t a complete lie.

‘Yeah.’ Shayne swallows, turning back round. ‘Homelessness is so sad. But we’re going to get him help.’