The Secret Life of Beatrice Alright

Chapter 45

FORTY-FIVE

ONE WEEK LATER

By mid-January it is as if Christmas never happened. The decorations are taken down and put away for another year. The buzz and excitement of the festive period has been replaced with complaining about the cold weather and counting down the days until spring. Ellie is back in crèche, I am back at work and Malcolm is back at home. There was nothing more the doctors could do for him, and they promised Shayne he would be more comfortable in his own bed. They were right. Shayne brought the television upstairs. It took us hours to figure the wiring out, but finally we got it connected and it sits proudly in the corner of Malcolm’s bedroom. He and Ellie watch Disney movies most evenings after crèche. Shayne and I take turns cooking, or we cook together. Malcolm rarely manages more than a bite or two. Ellie and I share a double bed in the spare room. Ellie says it’s like sleeping in the garden, with pink-and-lilac floral curtains, a cerise-pink carpet and embossed multicoloured wallpaper. Shayne says he remembers his grandmother choosing the colour scheme when he was just a child and Malcolm never wanted to change it. I imagine the whole house is the same as when Elaine grew up here.

Elaine and I do not speak at work. She emails my cleaning schedule to me in advance and she turns her back if she meets me on the corridor. The storage room is locked and if I need anything I have to ask the other cleaners, who’ve been given keys, to fetch it for me.

‘What’s up Elaine’s ass?’ I overhear Claudia, one of the senior cleaners, ask, shouting over the sound of the hoover.

‘No idea,’ Emer, a junior, shouts back. ‘Made me redo the men’s bathroom yesterday. Like what the hell!’

‘She’s being a total bitch!’ Claudia rolls her eyes.

‘Her dad is sick,’ I say, and clamp my hand over my mouth as soon as the words come out.

Claudia stomps her foot on the back of the hoover and shuts it off. Her eyes narrow as she glares at me and it’s obvious she’s unimpressed that I’ve cut into their conversation. I turn away, and yelp when I almost physically bump into Elaine. I hear the others snigger behind me. Elaine’s expression is like thunder. I hope she didn’t hear me over the hum of the hoover, but I have a horrible feeling she did.

‘Claudia?’ Elaine calls out.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘Can you clean the men’s bathrooms please?’

Claudia’s face pinches. ‘But Emer did it already.’

‘Claudia, now please?’ Elaine says.

Claudia nods and unplugs the hoover and begins to wind up the flex.

‘Can you help her?’ Elaine asks Emer. ‘You can leave that there.’ She points to the hoover.

Emer’s face makes me want to laugh, but I don’t, of course. Claudia and Emer don’t say a word as they walk away.

Elaine waits until they are out of earshot before she turns towards me. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Defend me.’

‘Oh. I?—’

‘Believe me, I’ve been called worse. Besides, the bathroom was still filthy. Emer’s idea of clean and mine are very different.’

‘Right, eh, okay. Sorry. I won’t say anything again.’

Elaine nods, fetches the hoover and drags it away behind her. She stops and turns her head over her shoulder. ‘Go on lunch, Bea.’

I glance at my watch. ‘But it’s only twelve thirty. I’m not scheduled until one.’

‘Take the extra time.’

‘Oh.’

I don’t question Elaine. I’m not about to turn my nose up at thirty free minutes. I make the snap decision that the extra time will allow me to dash across the city and catch Cora at work. Our texts and calls have been awkward since New Year’s Eve and I’ve been longing for a chance to speak in person. I haven’t been able to call round to her flat because my evenings are taken up with Ellie and Malcolm, and I am worried about her.

Outside, the bus arrives bang on time and traffic is light. I’m overjoyed that the friendship gods are on my side. That is until I reach the multistorey, high-tech private hospital where Cora works and she spots me. Hurt, sadness, anger and disappointment all merge on her face to create a sour expression as she juts a hip out and says, ‘I can’t talk now. I’m working.’

‘Please?’

She shakes her head, and without warning I bend in the middle and start to cry.

‘Oh, Jesus, Bea.’

Cora rushes to me and envelopes me in a hug.

‘Tell me. Talk to me. Please tell me what the fuck has been going on?’ she begs.

‘Lunch?’ I manage to say, dragging my sleeve under my nose, but it doesn’t help much. I’m a blubbering, snorty, slightly snotty mess.

‘Yeah. Yeah. Course. Come on. My break started ten minutes ago.’

In the canteen, Cora and I grab ham and cheese wraps that despite the fancy minimalist wrapper smell like feet and taste like cardboard. We eat them nonetheless as we lap the grounds, talking and talking. I spill everything. I start with Declan and his new girlfriend or girlfriends. She says a leopard doesn’t change its spots. Then I tell her about the closet and she cries and apologises as if it was somehow her fault. I tell her I’m staying with Shayne and Malcolm now, and finally, choking up and barely able to push words out, I say, ‘He’s dying.’

‘Shit. That sucks,’ she says.

I cry some more. I cry for Malcolm. I cry for myself and I cry for Ellie. Cora cries too. For the relationship she wanted, but never got, with Finton. Then she takes my phone and rings the landlord at Declan’s and my old flat.

‘Hello, I’m looking for Declan Stanley,’ she says.

There’s some mumbling on the other end.

‘Oh, I see. I see,’ Cora says, her voice a half-octave lower than usual and painfully posh-sounding. ‘It’s just, I’m a doctor at Clifford Hospital and we’ve been trying to reach MrStanley with some very sensitive medical results.’

More mumbling comes.

‘Ah yes, but unfortunately a mobile number really isn’t going to help. I will need to post the files. It’s very important that he takes them straight to his GP. I’m afraid I really can’t say more, but I cannot stress?—’

More mumbling.

‘Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Okay good. Great. Thank you.’

Cora lowers her phone and punches something into her notes. Then she looks at me with bright, giddy eyes and says, ‘We’ve got him. I’ve got his address in London. Let’s see the bastard get out of paying child support now.’

I grab her and I hold her longer and tighter than I ever have before.

‘We’ve got him,’ I whisper, getting lost in the moment.

Cora and I both jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

‘It’s Shayne,’ I say, instantly panicked that he’s calling during work hours.

I can’t get the phone to my ear fast enough. ‘Hello.’

‘Can you come home?’

‘I’m on my way.’