While Paddy went to get the drinks, Cillian sat and thought about what Paddy had said. It was true, he was there for the next few months anyway, provided the wages kept coming. They were out of the grotty flat, into a chalet that needed work but was still far better. They had heat, and food, and he could finally begin putting some money aside. If he could save enough for rent and a deposit, they could finally move into a little house somewhere. Orla deserved a home, and she had never really experienced one before. Not like other kids had at least, and even then not for long. He picked up the beer mat in front of him, distractedly pulling at it, lost in thought. His phone rang in his pocket, and when he saw the screen his heart sank. Not today.
‘Where the hell is my daughter?’ an angry voice screamed out the second he hit the green button. He turned the volume down on his handset and lifted it to his ear. ‘I got a letter from the Child Benefit people today. You’re trying to take the money!’
‘Well, good afternoon to you. It’s not your money, it’s for the benefit of the child. As in Orla, not the landlord of the Lamb and Flag. Our daughter is fine, thank you. She’s got an extra afternoon session today.’
Orla was going to full-time nursery in September, but because of the unsettled year she had endured, her anxiety was sky-high. The teachers were helping her as much as possible, including giving her extra time there in school to get her used to the huge change that was coming her way. Ideally, he shouldn’t be moving at this time in her life, but they needed to get out of where they were, and fast. Orla needed her own room. She deserved to have a space that was just hers. She deserved a proper bed of her own, not a second-hand one shared with her dad. Shady Pines was the way out, and he had seized it with both muscular arms. He knew Tina wouldn’t be happy, but it was Orla’s money. She needed it far more than her feckless mother.
‘What does she need extra time for?’
Cillian didn’t answer her. If she didn’t know about her own daughter by now, that was on her.
‘For Orla’s benefit, that’s why. So she feels settled when she goes full-time. I did tell you, Tina. She starts in September. Did you want something, other than to yell?’
There was a pause on the line, and across the pub, Paddy raised his brows, questioning who was on the phone. Cillian mouthed Tina at him, and Paddy’s face turned dark. He made a motion at Cillian with his hands, pretending to end the call on his own imaginary mobile phone. Bev behind the bar looked on, giving Cillian a little smile as she caught his eye. Cillian nodded at Paddy, knowing he was right.
The truth was, he was never sure just how fast things were going to get nasty, so he needed to keep the peace. He hadn’t told her that they were moving yet, and he didn’t want anything to stop that. Now the social workers were backing off, he didn’t want them getting involved again. He wasn’t the problem, and the move would be so good for them both. The social workers had agreed too, given his past employment there and Orla knowing the place a little. He needed to be there, the whole thing a done deal, before he even thought about telling Tina.
He headed outside, away from ear-ridden walls. The smoking shelter was empty. He sat on one of the painted wooden benches, getting a waft of old cigarette smoke and ash, and the smell of the flowers that were in planters dotted around the garden area.
‘I did actually. I wondered if I could see her.’
Cillian didn’t say anything himself this time. He felt like his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth.
‘NO,’ a voice said, stern. ‘Not a chance.’
He’d hit the red button and was on his feet and back through the doors of the pub before he even recognised that the voice belonged to him. His legs felt like jelly, and the rage and sheer shock was fizzing through his whole body. Just the sound of her voice did that to him. He couldn’t imagine facing her in real life any time soon, but it was coming. He just knew it.
Paddy was sitting with his pint in his hand, Cillian’s on the table, sitting on a new beer mat. Paddy took one look at him and turned to Bev.
‘Bev, we will need that packet of pork scratchings after all, and lend us the phone, will ya?’
Bev nodded, taking the cordless phone off the hook on the wall and bringing it over with two big bags of pork scratchings. Her gaze lingered on Cillian, but to be honest, the Duracell bunny could have been standing in front of him, and he wouldn’t have known. Paddy took the phone from her, shooing her away and handing Cillian the phone.
‘Mate, I love you, but you’re being a prize berk now, and enough’s enough. Ring the damn number already. Get this sorted before it gets worse.’
Cillian thought of Orla, a little scrap of life, huddled between her old bed and the bedroom wall, reading in the near pitch black because she couldn’t reach the light switch. His chest clenched, and he took the handset from his friend. He was right, as usual. It was time. Cillian needed to protect his daughter, and he needed to make it happen now. He needed to tell people. When the brown stuff hit the fan, and hit it would, he would need them. Even the confusing Yorkshire woman who had unknowingly handed him a paddle to get him
