by Kate Hewitt
When she arrived at her mother’s flat, however, Tina was looking remarkably well put together and seemed happier and more alert than she had been in a while. She’d even put up some Christmas decorations—the old nativity set was in pride of place on the hall table.
“You decorated,” Olivia said with a delighted smile. She felt inordinately happy that her mum had made the effort.
“I thought I ought to do something,” Tina answered. “Even if it’s something small. Now how are you?”
“Good. I went on a date last night, actually.” She hadn’t told her mum about Simon yet, and she hoped it wasn’t too early to now.
“A date!” Tina smiled and clapped her hands together lightly. “Olivia, I’m so pleased. Who is this special man?”
“Simon Blacklock. He was the one who drove us to the hospital?”
“Oh yes.” Her mother’s brow crinkled, and Olivia couldn’t tell if she really remembered him or not. “How lovely. Was it nice? Where did you go?”
“Yes, it was. Very nice. We went out for a drink at the pub, and we’re going ice-skating later today.”
“So it sounds like it could be serious?” Tina’s eyes twinkled, making her look years younger.
“It’s too early to say,” Olivia said quickly. “We’re just getting to know one another. Anyway.” She moved into the kitchen, deciding it was time to change the subject. “Enough about me. How are you?”
“I’m well, all things considered.” Tina followed her into the kitchen and filled the kettle. “In some ways, it’s almost a relief,” she explained as she carefully put the kettle on the stove, watching the open flame.
“What’s a relief, Mum?”
“The diagnosis.”
“You haven’t actually—”
“It’s coming, Olivia. You know that. Whether it’s now or the appointment after Christmas, or another test or scan after that. It’s coming. And it’s a relief.”
Olivia struggled to keep hold of her feelings as well as her expression. How could it possibly be a relief? She didn’t want to ask the question, yet her mother must have seen it in her face.
“I know it must be difficult for you to understand,” she said gently as she handed Olivia a cup of tea just as she liked it, milky and sweet. “But for so long I’ve been denying what was going on, even to myself. Especially to myself. I explained away a thousand little things because I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to lose myself.”
“And now?” Olivia asked, struggling to keep her voice level. She felt as if she could burst into tears.
“Now I am starting to face that fear, and strangely, it’s not as overwhelmingly horrible as I thought.” She smiled at Olivia as she sipped her tea. “It’s still frightening, and of course I’d rather it wasn’t happening, but besides all that I’m okay. At least now I don’t have to pretend I have it all together.”
“I wish you’d never pretended, Mum. If I’d known, I could have helped…”
“Pretending was an instinct. But it made me even more anxious, always trying to cover how lost I felt, and I’m sorry for that. I know I haven’t seen myself these last few months, and now, bizarrely, I feel more like myself. Even if I can’t remember how to draw a clock.” Tina’s lips trembled and Olivia’s heart ached. No matter how brave or pragmatic her mother was being now, this was still hard. It was terrifying.
“How long had you been pretending?” she asked. “Do you reckon?”
Tina pursed her lips as she sat back in her seat. “I don’t know. Longer, perhaps, than I even realise now. Too long.”
“When you asked me to come back and help out at the shop…” Tina nodded and Olivia swallowed hard. That had been nearly two years ago. “Well, the important thing now is to look to the future,” Olivia said as briskly as she could. “I’ve done a little research online, Mum, and there are ways to boost your memory and stave off the worst of the symptoms. That is,” she added hurriedly, “if you even—”
“Olivia,” Tina cut her off gently. “I do.”
“Well, still. It’s not the end of the world. People can live with—with dementia for a long time.” But it had already been two years.
“I know that, and I’m glad you do, as well. It’s not the end, Olivia. In some ways, it’s just the beginning.”
But the beginning of what? As much as Olivia wanted to hold on to the hope of medical research and the amazing benefits of ginkgo biloba, she knew her mother could only stave off the symptoms for so long. Decline was eventual, inevitable…but then she supposed that was true for everyone.
“I know,” she managed, trying to smile for her mum’s sake. “I’m just taking time to get used to this.” Olivia smiled wryly. “You seem to be handling it much better than I am.”
“You’ll get there. It’s more of a shock to you than it was to me.”
Olivia finished her tea, reluctant to leave her mum, but time was getting on. “I suppose I should go,” she said. “I’m meeting Simon in less than an hour.”
Her mother smiled, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “Simon? Who’s Simon?”
*
Back at Tea on the Lea, Olivia headed upstairs to change into warmer clothes. It was a perfect day for enjoying the wintry weather—crisp and cold with blue skies and bright, hard sunshine that made every blade of grass sparkle with frost.
Dr Jekyll prowled around her as she squeezed herself into some thermals, wincing at her reflection before she hurriedly put on the rest of her clothes. She’d just yanked on a pair of sturdy boots when she heard a tapping on the glass downstairs.
Dr Jekyll trotted behind her, wanting to investigate, and then decided to be extra-friendly by jumping into Simon’s arms as Olivia opened the door.
“Oh, hello there!” he exclaimed as he caught the cat instinctively. “So you’re being friendly today.”
“For the moment,” Olivia answered as Simon set him down on the floor. “Be careful of his claws.”
“Wise advice.” Simon straightened, brushing his inky hair away from his eyes as he gave her one of his wry smiles. He had a large bag thrown over his shoulder, which Olivia assumed held their skates. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, I’ll just get my coat.”
“Do you mind walking?” Simon asked as they set off down the high street, the air cold enough to sting Olivia’s cheeks. “It’s not that far, and there isn’t much parking there, or so I’ve heard.”
“No, I don’t mind at all. It’s a beautiful day.”
And it was beautiful, as they took the footpath at the top of the high street, pausing as they crossed the little wooden footbridge that spanned the Lea River, and offered a chocolate-box view of the village.
“You do know where this pond is, don’t you?” Olivia asked, half-joking, as Simon strode down a narrow path that wound between a cluster of oak trees, their branches stark and bare now in the depths of December.
“More or less…” He glanced back at her with a cheeky smile that made her laugh. “Perhaps a little more less.”
They walked along the footpath for another ten minutes, wending their way through a forest and then a tufty sheep pasture before Simon slowed and gestured with one arm. “Voila!”
Olivia stopped to gaze at the small pond, its surface smooth and gleaming ice. A handful of people were skating on it—a couple of kids who flung out their arms and stumbled along, and one woman who was doing sharp figure eights, a look of serene concentration on her face.
“Wow. I never even knew this was here. How did you hear about it?”
“My sister told me. She took my nephews here last week.” He gestured to a fallen log someone had fashioned into a bench, sawing off the top so it was flat enough to sit on. “I borrowed her skates for you… I think you’re about the same size.”
“Six?” Olivia asked hopefully and he squinted as he glanced at the size printed on the inside flap.
“Seven. But you’re wearing thick socks.”
They suited up, Ol
ivia’s fingers feeling thick and clumsy as she laced her skates. “I think you should know,” she warned him as they both stood and started to clump over towards the ice, “that I’ve never actually skated before, and I’m generally not the most dextrous person.”
“I think you should know,” Simon answered, “that neither am I.”
In fact, as Simon gingerly stepped out on the ice, Olivia couldn’t help but think how much he resembled a stork. A charming, handsome stork, but there could be no denying that his gangly frame was not the most graceful as he took a few exploratory glides along the ice, wobbling so much Olivia caught her breath in a would-be gasp, before Simon turned to her with a flourish, spreading his arms out wide.
“See? Easy,” he said, and then promptly fell flat on his back.
“Oh!” Olivia half-skated, half-minced her way over to him, conscious of her own lack of balance, her flailing arms. “Simon, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride, and I have little enough of that as it is.” He blinked up at her, grinning, and she gave a little laugh as she stretched out a hand to help him up. Simon took it, and for the next few seconds they were engaged in an awkward, imbalanced dance as they both struggled to right themselves and Olivia feared they’d end up crashing to the ground.
Simon grabbed hold of her forearm, and then steadied himself by putting his other hand on her waist, so it almost felt as if they were waltzing—admittedly rather badly. But still they were close, close enough that Olivia could see the silvery glint in his eyes, feel the heat of his body, and her heart rate skittered in response. They remained that way for a long, suspended moment, their faces and bodies both close, and then Simon steadied himself and, still holding her hand, started to skate.
Olivia had no choice but to keep up with him, trying to match his gliding strides, terribly conscious not just of his nearness but of how precarious her own balance felt. Around them a couple of kids were half-stumbling across the ice, and the lone woman did an impressive jump, spinning in the air before she landed neatly and skated on.
“I’m feeling a bit outclassed,” Olivia murmured, and Simon shot her a quick smile.
“You shouldn’t. I think you’re doing just fine.” He squeezed her hand and she tried to keep her heart—and hopes—from soaring at this little exchange. As much as she liked Simon, as much as she wanted this to work, she still felt instinctively cautious.
They managed three loops of the pond before Simon suggested they take a break. The other skaters had left, and they had the pond to themselves, the air still and crystalline, the sun high in the sky.
They sat on the fallen log and Simon produced a flask of hot chocolate from his bag. “Sustenance,” he declared, and rummaged again to brandish two plastic mugs.
“This is wonderful, Simon, thank you.” Olivia took her cup of hot chocolate, savouring its sweetness.
“It was a challenge to come up with a second date activity,” Simon told her with a grin. “If we’d gone to the cinema we couldn’t have talked, and I’m not really good with parties, so that was out…”
“You’re not good with parties?” Olivia said in surprise. “I would have thought you’d be the life of the party.”
“Nope, I’m not really good with crowds.” He glanced down at his mug, and Olivia felt that now-familiar frisson of wary curiosity as she wondered what he wasn’t saying.
“So will you have Christmas with your sister and her family?” she asked, and Simon gave a little grimace.
“She’s invited me, but they’re all going to my brother-in-law’s parents’ and I’d feel like a fifth wheel. I barely know them.”
“So what will you do then?”
Simon shrugged. “I’m getting the key to Willoughby Close just before Christmas Eve, so I might just spend the holiday moving in.”
“That’s no way to spend Christmas.” Olivia hesitated, wondering if it would be far too soon to ask him to spend Christmas with her. She decided it would, and so instead she invited him to the mulled wine and mince pie evening she had planned at the shop. “It’s on Wednesday, and I’m hoping to get a crowd. There will be a bit of a carol singalong, and then a Christmas quiz. Do you think you’d like to come?”
“I’d love to,” Simon said, with such sincere enthusiasm that Olivia couldn’t keep from breaking out in a grin of pure happiness.
“Good.” Maybe this felt too good to be true…but maybe it was just good. She wanted to believe that. She chose to.
By the time they finished their hot chocolate and made another couple of circuits of the pond, dusk was starting to fall, creating pools of violet shadow among the trees.
“I suppose we should get back,” Olivia said, even though she was reluctant to end their date. They had been holding hands as they skated along and even though her toes were numb and her cheeks felt raw she didn’t want to leave.
“Yes, I can’t feel most of my feet. But you didn’t fall once, unlike me.”
“I also skated at a snail’s pace.” They sat on the bench together and unlaced their skates, and then as they started back along the twilit path, Simon reached for her hand. It felt completely natural and right to walk along holding hands, and even though the path was a little too narrow to walk alongside each other, they somehow managed it.
Olivia’s steps slowed as they came down the high street towards Tea on the Lea. Should she invite him in? Once again she was in a quandary, and then she decided she didn’t need to be. Why worry so much? Why not simply take life’s opportunities as they presented themselves? Find happiness and perhaps even love where and when she could?
She turned to him, so abruptly she nearly crashed into him. “Do you want to come in?” she asked a little breathlessly. “Have some dinner? I think I could rustle up something, or we could get a takeaway, although admittedly Wychwood doesn’t have that many options. Fish and chips…”
“I’d love to,” Simon answered, and Olivia’s breath came out in a rush of relief. Maybe this really could be easy. Maybe it could be good. And she could stop being afraid, stop worrying about the what-ifs or the things she didn’t know, and let everything unfold naturally…wonderfully.
Chapter Ten
Of course, as soon as Simon followed her upstairs, Olivia realised she had not left her poky little flat in a state to receive visitors. The kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes, an open box of cereal trailing its flakes across the counter, and her washing was hanging to dry on a rack in the middle of the sitting room, her rather worn M&S bras and pants on glaring display.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting…” she began in a half-mumble before whisking the rack into her just-as-messy bedroom. She returned with an apologetic smile, and Simon laughed.
“You should see the state of my room.”
“Will you be glad to get your own place?” Olivia asked as she hunted through the kitchen for something to offer. She should have done a weekly shop today, but between her mum and ice-skating with Simon she hadn’t had the time.
“Yes, I think so,” Simon said after a second’s hesitation. “It will be nice to have some space.”
“You must get along with your sister rather well if you’re able to live with her,” Olivia remarked. She had a packet of pasta and a jar of sauce. Not the most inspired meal, and she realised belatedly that the fish and chip shop in the village was closed on Sundays.
“Yes, we do, mostly. I suppose any siblings fight.”
“I wouldn’t know, but that sounds right.”
“Did you ever wish you had siblings?” Simon asked as he leaned against a kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
“Not really, actually. Mum and me always felt like a complete unit.”
“How is she? You saw her this morning?”
“Yes, and she was surprisingly okay. But I’m still bracing myself for whatever lies ahead… It feels so unknown.” Cue the wretched lump in her throat, the feeling that she was at sea, trying to keep her balance on a ship who
se deck kept pitching and rolling with the waves of uncertainty.
“It must be hard,” Simon said quietly, and she was grateful he didn’t try to slap a “look on the bright side” plaster on what felt, at the moment, like a gaping emotional wound.
“Yes, it is, and will be. But at least Mum seems in a good place emotionally.” Olivia thought of how serene her mother had seemed this morning, and then how she’d completely forgotten any mention of Simon. That had jarred Olivia, the obvious lapse, one her mother wasn’t even aware of. How many more would there be? And how had she not seen them before?
“So, dinner,” Olivia said brightly. “Would you like some spaghetti with a jar of sauce? Sorry it’s not more inspired.”
“Your cupcakes are inspired.”
“And yet you haven’t tried one.”
“I will, I promise.” His eyes glinted at her, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “And yes, I’d love pasta and sauce. But why don’t you let me cook? You do enough work in the kitchen as it is.”
“Oh…” Olivia felt jolted. A man cook for her in her own kitchen? It was a strange and yet surprisingly pleasing thought.
“That is, if you don’t mind me moving around your space, using your stuff,” Simon said with a grin.
“No, I don’t. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.” She took a seat at the tiny kitchen table while Simon began hunting around for pots and pans, finding them with alacrity.
It was wonderfully companionable, to chat about nothing important while Simon put a pot of water on to boil, and found some garlic and mushrooms to add to the sauce, chopping everything with brisk precision.
“You seem like you know your way around a kitchen,” Olivia remarked. He’d also found a bottle of wine and asked if he could open it; now they were both sipping from glasses of red while Simon continued with his preparations.
“I suppose I do, a bit. I’ve lived on my own for most of my adult life, and awhile ago I got tired of takeaways and noodles in a mug.”