The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

It takes me ages to find the chessboard, and I’m worried that Malcolm will lose patience and leave. But I needn’t have been concerned. When I finally find the games, under a stack of papers in the nurses’ station, and return to the ward, I find Malcolm sitting in a plastic chair by MrsMorgan’s bed and they are deep in conversation about politics. I hate to interrupt them, but I am anxious to get the game played before Malcolm’s appointment time.

‘Okay,’ I say, balancing the board and all the pieces on the edge of MrsMorgan’s bed. ‘When you’re ready, players, make your move.’

The game begins and soon the level of concentration consumes the room. I prop MrsBrennan up with several pillows so she can watch from her bed, and some patients from the other wards trickle in to observe masters at work.

Soon, there is a semicircle of patients around Malcolm and MrsMorgan. It’s the most excitement we’ve had on the ward in months. Shayne and I fall to the back of the small crowd.

‘Thank you,’ he whispers.

‘Don’t thank me yet,’ I say. ‘He might win.’

‘That’s okay,’ Shayne says, ‘I’ve already spoken with the doctor. I have his prescription here.’ He pats his pocket. ‘I’ll pick it up in the pharmacy downstairs on our way home.’

My heart soars, relieved that, however the game goes, Malcolm is going to get his medicine.

‘I haven’t seen him smile like this in a long time,’ Shayne says, his voice cracking.

‘I knew they’d hit it off,’ I say, quietly confident that Malcolm has made a new friend in MrsMorgan. And possibly MrsBrennan too, who shouts sporadically, ‘Finish her,’ with as much vigour as if we were locked in a real-life battle of Mortal Kombat instead of one of the most reserved board games you can get.

‘Did you hear anything about our friend John?’ Shayne asks.

‘Not yet. But my friend on reception is looking into it.’

Shayne shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on the spot, rolling from his heels to his tiptoes and back again.

‘Poor guy,’ he says. ‘It’s just so sad. We’ve a huge homelessness problem in New York. But I didn’t realise it was almost as bad here.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, swallowing hard. ‘It’s definitely a problem in Dublin.’

‘I wish there was more we could do, you know. To help. I donate to some charities back home, but it feels like a cop-out. Imagine if we could sit down with these people and really ask them what they need. Maybe get them set up with a job, or a skill. Something to get them back on their feet.’

‘Maybe they have skills,’ I say, and it comes out snappy. ‘Or jobs already. I doubt it’s all that black and white.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,’ he says, picking up on my tone. ‘I just feel sorry for them.’

‘Well, don’t. Your pity isn’t going to help them. Shit like that just makes it worse.’

His eyes widen. ‘Bea, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—’

‘It’s fine. It’s fine,’ I say, quickly. My cheeks sting and I’m embarrassed that I snapped.

‘You okay?’

I clear my throat. ‘Yeah. Fine. But can we talk about something else please?’

He looks at me with concern and I can tell he’s thinking I’ve overreacted and he’s wondering why. I die a little inside.

‘Woo-hoo.’ Malcolm’s voice cuts through the air, and I’ve never been more thankful to hear anyone. ‘I won, I won.’

Shayne looks at me, pats his pocket once again and winks. ‘Thank you for this.’ He gestures towards MrsMorgan’s bed, where Malcolm is shaking her hand and thanking her for a great game as if they’ve just played Wimbledon. ‘I haven’t seen Grandad this happy in years. Honestly, I can’t tell you how much it means to me.’

My insides flutter. It means a lot to me to see Malcolm happy too.

‘He can come back, you know. Any time. Visit his new friends. I think they’d all like that.’

Shayne smiles. ‘Yeah. I think that would be great.’

‘And maybe, if he comes here again, he might speak to his daughter.’

Shayne sighs. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’

He doesn’t sound convinced and it saddens me.

‘Could you talk to her?’ I ask. ‘Maybe if she knows he’s trying to reach out?—’

Shayne’s face changes, like dark cloud suddenly settling in on a spring day.

I raise my hands as if I’m surrendering, ‘I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.’

His eyes glisten as he says, ‘It’s just?—’

‘Please, it’s okay.’ I cut him off. ‘You don’t owe me an explanation. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘Join us for dinner,’ he blurts.

‘What?’

‘Tonight. Please? This has been really great for Grandad and maybe we could talk about my mom over dinner. He opens up to you more than he ever does with me.’

‘That’s him opening up?’ I giggle, and hope Shayne picks up on my joke.

Thankfully he laughs too.

‘So, you’ll come? I booked the Silly Hen on Camden Street. I have no idea if it’s good, but the Tripadvisor reviews are great so…’

He trails off, no doubt seeing the look on my face.

‘It’s really good,’ I say, which I realise makes it sound like I’ve actually been there myself and not just heard the doctors and nurses here rave about the great food. I can only imagine what a place like that costs, with its urban minimalist décor and Mo?t sign in the window.

‘I’d love to, but I have Ellie,’ I say, giving him the first excuse that comes into my head.

‘Bring her.’ He shrugs. ‘I’m sure they have a kids’ menu.’

I make a face that confirms a place like that definitely does not serve nuggets and chips.

‘Okay. We’ll book somewhere else. Where does Ellie like?’

My budget can just about stretch as far as McDonald’s, but it means dipping into my flat deposit savings and I just can’t, not when anyone could discover us in the storage room any day.

‘It’s a lovely offer, thank you. But I have plans this evening.’

I watch Shayne deflate like someone letting the air out of a balloon. He can tell I’m lying and I hate myself for it. I wish he knew how much I’d love to join them. But I can’t possibly tell him that, without explaining that I’m just too broke.

‘Okay. No problem. Maybe another time.’

The generic phrase makes me sad. We both know, that more often than not, maybe another time means never another time .

‘Well, like I said,’ he says, as he begins to walk away. ‘This was great, but I better get Grandad home.’

‘You’ll come back though, right? You’ll bring him back tomorrow?’

Shayne nods. ‘Sure.’