The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 43

FORTY-THREE

Ellie cries the whole journey. I try to comfort her, but my thoughts are scrambled and I’m not sure I’m even making any sense.

‘I love you. I love you so much,’ I tell her in a gentle whisper as if my love is all I can offer her, and I know she needs so much more.

‘Is she all right?’ the driver asks, glancing back at us in the rear-view mirror.

‘I’m not sure.’

He sets his eyes back on the road and I can tell he wasn’t expecting an honest answer.

The journey feels painfully long despite no traffic. I pay the driver and I scarcely give a thought to how much the fare depletes my savings. I’d have paid every penny I have to get Ellie and me out of there.

‘Whatever is wrong, love…’ he says, as I open the door. ‘She’ll be fine. Kids are resilient.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, wishing it was that simple.

I stand statue-still on the footpath, holding Ellie’s hand as I watch him drive away, then I take a deep breath and turn round to face Malcolm’s house.

The curtains are drawn, but there don’t seem to be any lights on inside. Nonetheless, I walk through the gate. Loose stone crackles under Ellie and me with each step, and I crane my neck towards the house, hoping to hear the sound of TV or radio. But the house is silent and still. I slide the porch door back and ring the bell. Moonlight shines on the wellies waiting inside the porch and a couple of tennis rackets have fallen face first on the ground. I wait for an answer but the house stays sleeping.

‘I’m cold,’ Ellie grumbles, pulling her hand out of mine so she can wrap her arms round herself to keep warm. We left the shelter in such a panic, neither of us have coats.

I ring the bell again, deflating more by the second. Nothing. I try again. Silence. I pull my phone out and call Shayne. Finally, I hear a noise. Shayne’s ringtone coming from an upstairs window.

‘Hello,’ I call out.

‘Hello,’ Ellie echoes.

‘Hello. Shayne,’ I try again, louder.

‘Shayne,’ Ellie says, louder too.

I begin shouting and waving my arms as I continue to let my phone ring. ‘Hello! Hello! Is anyone home?’

My voice is scratchy and breaks. I clear my throat and try again.

‘Shayne. Malcolm. Anyone! It’s Bea and Ellie. Please let us in.’

The curtain twitches and I hold my breath. Finally, Shayne’s face peeks through the gap.

‘Hey. Hey. Oh my God, hi.’ I wave, relief flooding my senses, and I’m instantly light-headed.

‘Bea,’ he mouths.

I nod. The window opens and this time when he says my name I hear something in his voice. He’s not happy to see me. I take a step back, realising how strange this must be for him. It’s late, on one of the biggest nights of the year, and I have turned up on his grandfather’s doorstep screaming like a banshee and begging to be let in. He must think I’m absolutely mad. And right now, I can’t argue that I’m not.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he says.

‘Everything,’ I say. The honesty slips out of me so quickly that it doesn’t have time to shock me.

‘Hang on. I’m coming down.’

I hear heavy footsteps race down the stairs and the door opens quickly. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit and the colour washes him out, or else he’s unwell, because his face is worryingly pale.

My staring must make him uncomfortable, because he runs his hand over his hair and says, ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

He doesn’t say another word, just steps aside, and I know it’s okay for Ellie and me to come in. He closes the door behind us and when the heat of the house surrounds me I realise how very cold it was outside after all.

‘Can I watch telly?’ Ellie asks, and makes her way towards the sitting room without waiting for Shayne’s answer.

‘I’m sorry, she?—’

‘What’s wrong?’ he says, cutting across me.

I swallow hard. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just…’ I push my shoulders back and steady myself. ‘You weren’t replying to any of my messages.’

‘You came all the way across town to tell me to text you?’

I shake my head and tears swell in my eyes, I try not to blink.

‘I was giving you some space. I don’t want to mess things up for you with Ellie’s dad.’

I wipe my eyes, suddenly not teary any more. ‘What?’

‘Ellie told Grandad that her dad is back in the picture.’

‘She said that?’

‘Well actually, I think it was something about cookies. Grandad just read between the lines.’

Thoughts swirl inside my head like a mini tornado. I can’t seem to grab hold of a single one.

‘This timing is awful but I have to tell you,’ Shayne says, glancing over his shoulder towards the stairs, and I think he might be expecting Malcolm to join us at any moment and there’s something he wants to get out first.

Even if I could find my voice, I wouldn’t say anything right now. Because whatever Shayne has to say, I want to hear it.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t say this. Actually, I definitely shouldn’t. But I like you, Bea. I feel things when I’m around you. It’s kind of why I didn’t go back to New York. I wanted more time with you. And thank God I did, because it gave me more time with Grandad too.’

I open my mouth and still nothing comes out.

‘And I know how inappropriate this is. You’re trying to fix things with your ex. He’s Ellie’s dad for God’s sake. And here I am dumping all this on you. But don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon. After—’ His voice breaks and he cuts himself off.

The television comes to life in the sitting room and sound carries towards us through the open door. And finally, when I know Ellie can’t hear me over the sound of a TV presenter’s enthusiastic New Year’s Eve hyping, I find words.

‘Malcolm is wrong. Declan is not back. He never will be. It’s over.’

A wave of emotions plays out on Shayne’s face. Surprise. Relief. Concern and finally confusion.

‘But Ellie said he was at your apartment.’

‘We met at the coffee shop below the apartment.’

‘I know the one.’ He nods, clearly remembering Christmas and John. Bloody John. I came here desperate to tell Shayne about John, but suddenly I don’t want to give men like John or Declan any space in my head.

‘It was just a coffee,’ I go on.

Shayne tilts his head. ‘He didn’t stay over?’

I snort. ‘He couldn’t. We don’t live there any more.’

Shayne looks more confused than ever.

‘You moved?’

I have to tell Shayne the truth. Not because I’ve shown up on his grandfather’s doorstep in a fit of blind panic. Not because I have nowhere to go. But because I want to. I need to confide in someone and I desperately want that someone to be him. A good man. The type of man my father was. So different from the type of man Ellie’s father is. I inhale until my lungs feel as if they might burst and I blurt, ‘We’re homeless.’

‘Sorry?’ he says, as if he didn’t quite hear me.

‘Ellie and me. We’re homeless. We have been for a few weeks. Declan left and I can’t afford rent. We’ve been living at the hospital since.’

His hand is in his hair again and his face is all scrunched up. It’s so hard to say, but looking at Shayne I think it might also be hard to hear.

‘Your mam found us tonight. Well, she found Ellie. In the storage closet. That’s where we’ve been sleeping.’

‘Fuck!’

‘Yeah. A bit of a shitshow.’

‘So what did she do?’ His voice is gentle, like summer rain, and I can tell he’s fearful of spooking me. But I won’t run. Not from him.

‘She sent us to a shelter.’

He shakes his head. ‘Those places can be?—’

‘Awful,’ I cut in before he has to say more.

‘Tough,’ he says.

‘Yeah!’

‘Why didn’t you come here?’

I don’t tell him I wanted to but he wouldn’t answer his phone. I don’t want to put that on him. I also keep quiet about John and big Lizzie. Thankfully, nothing happened besides a couple of assholes scaring the crap out of Ellie and me.

‘I’m here now,’ I say.

He smiles. ‘You are.’

Shayne takes my hands in his and it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt the touch of another adult that a warm fuzziness builds inside me. He strokes his thumb over and back across my palms.

‘You can stay here,’ he says with a confident nod. ‘You and Ellie, as long as you need to.’

I smile. He’s kind and his thumb is sending pulses down my spine. But he can’t invite us in. This is Malcolm’s house.

‘Shouldn’t we ask your grandfather first?’ I say, meekly.

I notice for the first time that Shayne’s eyes are red and puffy. Redder and puffier than mine. In my own fit of panic, I didn’t notice before now. Shit!

‘Shayne?’ I say, gently.

He shakes his head. ‘He’s at the hospital. I’d just got back when you arrived.’

I cover my mouth with my hand.

‘Pneumonia,’ Shayne says, a tear trickling out from the corner of his eye. ‘It’s not looking good.’

My chest tightens and it feels as if someone is twisting a vice round my heart.

‘Can I see him?’

‘Yes. Of course. He’d like that.’

‘Can we go now?’

Shayne rubs his eyes. ‘Yes. They said I can visit any time, normal hours don’t apply.’

I cover my mouth with my hand, all too familiar with what that means.

Wait for us, Malcolm. Please wait!