The Girl Who Stole the Apple

‘Let me see those magazines.’

‘Why?’

‘Please.’

She shrugged. Right at this moment she was really missing her mum. ‘I didn’t think you liked Disney.’

He held out his hand. She had no choice. She picked them up again and handed them over.

He looked at the covers.

‘You got them today, in the garage shop?’

She nodded.

‘You didn’t steal them?’

‘No!’ She wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal about it. It had always been Mum who fussed about this sort of thing. Her mum. She felt tears welling up inside her. Any minute now, she would start crying and that was the last thing she wanted to do, especially in front of Sam.

‘So you paid by cash?’

Beth walked back to the stool and sat down on it.

‘What does it matter?’

‘Where did you get that much money from?’

‘I used your debit card,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘I found your bank card in the hotel. On the floor. So I thought I’d look after it for you. You don’t mind, do you?’

But Sam clearly did mind. She could tell because he used a rude word that Mum used to get very cross about. His face turned serious. ‘Give me the card, Beth.’

She unzipped one of the side pockets of her rucksack and handed it over.

‘Next time, use cash,’ he said. And he gave her a five pound note in exchange. ‘Alright?’

‘Alright,’ she said.

* * *

Maggie was singing softly to herself. It was seven in the evening. Sam had suddenly announced that he had to go and meet Sinead and he had left. Beth had begged Maggie if she could ‘please, please, please!’ watch her DVD of Frozen and had been engrossed in it for the last twenty minutes. So Maggie had retreated gratefully from the fray, first to the loo and then to the small but wonderfully appointed kitchen to make cocoa for the both of them.

It was such a relief to have a few moments to herself. As she sang Nora Jones’s “Come away with me,” she felt the stresses of the day begin to recede. Stirring the milk on the hob was a simple, peaceful act. Through the doorway, the happy sounds of Frozen were suddenly muted, though it took several seconds for Maggie to register the fact. When she turned, she saw Beth standing in the doorway dressed in her Snow White outfit. She looked small and lost.

‘I really miss Mummy,’ she said.

Caught off guard, Maggie nodded. She lifted the saucepan off the hob and poured the steaming milk into two mugs, stirring as she did so. It felt like an important moment. What on earth

do you say to a child who says she misses her dead mother? She felt totally unprepared.

She placed the mugs on the small pine table in the centre of the kitchen. ‘Let’s drink here,’ she said, ‘so we don’t spill the cocoa. Then we’ll watch the rest of the film together.’

Beth sat down dutifully and pulled her mug towards her, wrapping her delicate fingers round it. She sniffed. ‘Was it wrong to use Sam’s bank card?’

‘Of course not.’