The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

The snow has completely melted. Even the slushy brown stuff that seemed determined to gather at the sides of the roads, or under the sill of shop windows, is finally gone, and the city is once again full of traffic and people. But, if possible, the clear blue sky allows the last few days of December to feel even colder than ever. I wrap Ellie up well for the weather and she moans that her scarf is too scratchy and her hat is too itchy, but she never tries to take them off. We follow the footpath along by the Liffey and down the quays, leaving the city behind us. It’s another kilometre or so before the gates of the Phoenix Park come into view, but Ellie never once complains about tired legs. Instead, her mouth gapes and she says, ‘Wow,’ as she points at the stone pillars at the park entrance. Huge, fresh green wreaths hang in the centre of each pillar, adorned with red and gold bows, like a perfect Christmas postcard. I tell Ellie to stand next to one of the pillars and I pull my phone out of her pocket and take her picture. She’s adorable, wrapped in winter woollies and with a warm and innocent smile lighting up her beautiful face. I make the photo my home and lock screen wallpaper and shove my phone back into my pocket. Then I take her hand and we walk again.

Shayne and Malcolm are waiting by the bike hire area. Malcolm is hatless as ever, with a large kite tucked under each arm. One pink. One blue. Shayne also has two kites, albeit both smaller. Ellie squeals with delight when she sees them.

‘Malco. Malco,’ she calls out, wriggling her fingers free from my grip. She hurries up the path towards them.

‘Don’t fall,’ I call after her, but she picks up speed and launches herself at Malcolm.

He and the kites almost topple over, but Shayne steadies him, dropping both his kites in the process.

I run to get them.

‘Ellie,’ I scold, both angry and embarrassed. ‘You have to be careful. You could have hurt Malcolm.’

Ellie’s eyes tear up and Malcolm looks at me, frustratedly.

‘She’s just excited,’ he says.

‘But if you fell?—’

‘Then I’d be down instead of up,’ he says, with a comical jig as if he has all the energy in the world.

Shayne and I look at each other, noting how tired the movement makes him. And Ellie laughs and copies him. Bouncing on the spot with one foot hopping in front of the other. At four years old she doesn’t see the barrier of age. It’s both endearing and stressful.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mouth to Shayne.

He makes a face that says, Don’t worry about it . And I try not to.

‘Well, are we flying kites or are we wasting a good morning standing around?’ Malcolm asks, taking the pink kite from under his arm and passing it to Ellie.

Ellie jigs on the spot again, this time with dance moves of her own creation, and stretches grabby hands out.

‘Unicorns,’ she says, observing the pattern of several flying unicorns and cupcakes and rainbows dotted sporadically all over the kite.

‘Wow, are you sure it’s big enough, Grandad?’ Shayne laughs when Ellie takes the kite that is at least one and a half times as tall as she is.

‘They didn’t have bigger,’ Malcolm says, seriously.

‘I’m afraid ours are much smaller,’ Shayne says, still laughing as he passes me a perfectly regular-sized plain green kite.

‘Thank you,’ I say, taking it.

Ellie’s face doesn’t approve. ‘Yours doesn’t gots unicorns, Mammy.’ But her scowl is quickly wiped from her face when Malcolm’s huge blue kite whooshes into the air.

‘Look, look, look.’ She points, barely able to contain her excitement, and then she cheers and laughs.

Malcolm’s kite flies high as he holds the string tightly. The wind is strong and the kite zigzags left and right, with its tail thrashing like a serpent. Shayne’s kite is next up. Its small stature is emphasised next to Malcolm’s beastly kite. Ellie and I try hard to launch hers but there seems to be a knack to it that neither of us can quite get. Shayne helps and soon there are neon pink unicorns dancing in the sky. My kite falls flat on its face a few times before I finally manage to get it airborne and, when all four kites swirl overhead, brightening the sky with their vibrant colours, Ellie exclaims, ‘This is the best day ever.’

My heart soars, because I think she might just be right.

The wind picks up and I have to help Ellie keep hold of her kite. Shayne assists Malcolm, who is wholly unimpressed.

‘I can do it. I can do it,’ he protests like a cranky toddler with an inflated sense of their own capabilities.

But despite his grumbles he leans into Shayne every so often and I can tell that deep down Malcolm is grateful for his grandson’s support. And once in a while, I catch him look at Shayne in a way that says he is grateful for his grandson in all ways.

When our arms are tired and our stomachs are rumbling, Shayne suggests we let the kites down and grab some food. Ellie grumbles and starts sulking until Shayne mentions hot chocolate and marshmallows, and then she is the first to start walking.

Some deer dart past and, when Ellie’s face lights up, Malcolm says, ‘This is where they come for a rest after Christmas. They are tired after flying all round the world with Santa.’

‘I hope this place is still here,’ Shayne says, as we begin walking towards the zoo area of the park. ‘You remember it, don’t you, Grandad? We used to come here every Sunday with Mam when I was little.’

There’s a flash of something in Malcolm’s eyes. Nostalgia and joy. But it’s fleeting. He shakes his head and says, ‘Don’t remember.’

Shayne sighs and I feel for him. I cup his ear and whisper, ‘He remembers.’

Shayne smiles. I pull away from him and raise my voice for everyone to hear. ‘I think I know the place. I used to go there with my parents. Before they passed.’

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Malcolm or Shayne’s, it’s gone too quickly to know whose.

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Shayne says. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Really. It’s okay. I don’t usually talk about them.’ My voice cracks on the last word and I’m not sure why. I don’t talk about my parents. I guess because I’ve never really had anyone to talk about them to. I told Declan, of course, and he said all the right generic things. And then we never really talked about it again.

‘Hey,’ Shayne says, stopping walking. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Course.’

He doesn’t believe me and he sidesteps closer to me.

‘C’mere,’ he says, draping an arm over my shoulder the way friends do.

Cora has thrown an arm over my shoulder many times, but it’s never felt quite like this. There’s something about my hip nestled against Shayne’s and his warm breath brushing over the top of my head that makes my knees want to buckle. There’s a sudden heat. As if December has melted away and it’s a summer’s day and I’m skipping carefree through a meadow of flowers. I allow myself to fall into the daydream for a moment. Fall and fall and fall. And then I hit the ground with a bang as I remember Declan. The father of my child. The man I have to sit face to face with in a few hours and try not to gouge his eyes out for my daughter’s sake.

‘I’m starving,’ I say, breaking away from Shayne to pick up the pace.

‘Erm, Bea,’ he says, catching up with me.

He looks back over his shoulder at Malcolm.

I cringe. Shit! How could I forget?

‘Sorry,’ I blurt, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment. ‘Hot chocolate overexcitement.’

Shayne edges closer to me. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I squeak, standing poker straight. ‘Course.’

There is a wedge between us for the rest of the day. I know, because I put it there. My heart is full of Shayne and Malcolm, but my head is full of Declan and Ellie. Shayne stops asking me if I’m okay after about the tenth time when it because obvious that I am not, but I don’t want to talk about it. Malcolm, however, doesn’t pick up on the obvious and says things like, ‘Cat got your tongue, Busy Bea?’ or, ‘Bees don’t buzz in winter, I suppose.’ Or my favourite: ‘Beatrice Alright, can’t fly a kite for shite.’ Ellie recited that one on repeat for at least a half an hour. She threw in some dancing and some clapping too.

‘Lovely, thank you, Malcolm. You know there’ll be war if she goes into crèche still singing that.’

Malcolm belly-laughs. ‘Any why shouldn’t she? How is she ever going to improve her singing if she doesn’t practise?’

I can’t argue with that.

When the weather drops another couple of degrees, Shayne says, ‘I better get you home, Grandad.’

Unsurprisingly, Malcolm protests. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’

His teeth chatter and his voice wobbles and Ellie copies him, chopping her top and bottom teeth together quickly.

‘Well, I’m not,’ I say, truthfully. ‘I can’t feel my toes.’

Malcolm looks down at my feet and a sweet smile lights up his face when he spots my bright red wellies.

‘They’re my favourites,’ I tell him.

He places his hand to his chest and his smile widens more.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘Let’s call it a day. Busy Bea’s feet hurt.’

Shayne flags a taxi and I have to tell him sternly to take it first. ‘You need to get him home. Ellie and I will get the next one.’

Shayne reluctantly agrees and helps Malcolm into the taxi.

‘I’ll call you,’ he says, before he hops in after his grandfather and closes the door.

I wait until the taxi is out of view before I take Ellie’s hand and walk towards the bus stop.

‘I love Malco,’ she muses, skipping beside me. ‘And Shayne too.’

The turn of phrase gives me pause. Because somewhere deep inside I think she might mean it. I think my little girl is building a relationship with Malcolm and Shayne, and I wonder what her father will have to say about that. I guess we’ll find out soon enough, I think, as our old bus pulls up and we hop on.