Bear With Me

by Jessica Redland

  Zack held his head in his hands and nodded. ‘Sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  Hailey wiped her eyes with a tissue that Mum handed her. ‘We were thinking of going down to the beach hut on Friday night with a few drinks to toast Nicole. Nothing sombre. We want it to be a celebration of her life. We’d really like you all to be there if you don’t have anything else planned. We thought we might invite a few other family members and friends but not many. We want to keep it as a small gathering. Subtle. Respectful.’

  I nodded. ‘It’s a great idea. Thank you.’

  As I was getting ready for bed that night, I realised that I hadn’t looked at my phone. There were three texts from Jemma. I clicked on the most recent first:

  * From Jemma

  I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Don’t forget to delete that text. Please, please, please. You know where I am if you need me xx

  * From Jemma

  Hi Carole. I found him at North Beach. He’s on his way home now. He’ll be frozen. Take care of him for me x

  My finger hovered over the final message. She had to know that I was going to read it.

  * From Jemma

  How does Tuesday at 6pm sound for a consultation with my mum? And how does tonight at 7pm sound for a date with me? A proper one. I’m a bit scared at the thought of a new relationship but I know I can trust you not to hurt me like Scott did. Bear with me as I may be a little cautious, but I think there’s the potential for something that will be worth the wait xx

  Oh crap! She’d trusted me not to let her down and what had I done?

  * To Jemma

  Sorry but I read your text. I couldn’t help myself. Last night you asked me to bear with you while you got your head together. Now I’m hoping you’ll bear with me and wait a bit longer while I do the same. I thought I’d made it through the tunnel but I’ve stepped back into the darkness today. There is light. I just need some more time to get to it. I really do care about you and I agree that we could have something amazing together. I want to take that final step but I’m not quite ready after all. You trusted me not to let you down yet I’ve done just that. Sorry seems so inadequate. I won’t let your mum down, though. I still want to meet her and I’d like you to be there but I understand if you’d rather I give you some space. Tuesday at 6pm is fine by me and I can come to your house. Thanks for this afternoon. I can’t tell you how grateful I was to have you there which makes me feel all the more shitty for letting you down. Sorry again xx

  Chapter 36

  Jemma

  I stared at Sam’s text. It was what I’d expected. In fact, it was probably better than I’d expected and my heart melted that, despite his turmoil, he still wanted to be there for Mum.

  The relief on Mum’s face when I said I’d secured a consultation for a second opinion negated any awkwardness I might feel at seeing Sam again. I’d be fine. Nothing had happened between us. We were still friends, exactly the same as before, and there was therefore no need for Mum to know about my feelings for him. I wasn’t ignoring the “no secrets” pact; I was simply choosing not to talk about something that hadn’t happened. Or something like that!

  * To Sam

  Yes please to meeting Mum. I’ll be there but she doesn’t know what’s happened – or not happened – between us this weekend so please don’t say anything. Not that you would. I just need to say it, though. Feeling a bit embarrassed about the content of my text now. Please forget about what I said and just focus on you and what you need right now. I hope you’re able to get some sleep tonight and that your family can give you the support you need. See you on Tuesday but you know where I am if you need me in the meantime. I’m still your friend assuming you want me to be xx

  * From Sam

  Please don’t be embarrassed about what you said. I loved reading it. I wish we could have been on our 1st proper date tonight but it wouldn’t be fair of me to start a relationship with you when I have issues to face, much as I want to. I’ll see you on Tuesday. Take care xx

  I felt sick on Tuesday. All day. Every time I thought about Sam – which was pretty much most of the day – my heart raced and I pictured that soft kiss on the doorstep turning into so much more. Which was ridiculous given that nothing was about to happen between us anytime soon.

  It was one of my days serving in the shop but, after I’d tried to charge a customer £1000 for a £100 collectible bear, had knocked over an entire display of plush teddies, and had created carnage in the shop window by causing a domino-effect bear tumble, Mum suggested it would be a good idea for me to be where customers and bears weren’t. I wasn’t much use with the paperwork either, managing to close a document I’d spent an hour working on without saving it.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Mum asked as we closed and locked up the shop at the end of the day. ‘You’ve not been yourself today.’

  I decided not to lie; just to tell a half the story. ‘I’ve got myself a bit worked up about your consultation with Sam. What if his verdict is inconclusive too? Or if it’s bad news.’

  Mum shrugged. ‘Then we’ll cross that bridge together. I don’t think it will be inconclusive, though. According to my friendly stalker’s sister, your friend Dr Jones is a far better doctor than Dr Steadman. She was gutted when he left. If it’s bad news, then at least we know what we’re dealing with. At the moment, we haven’t a clue.’ She linked my arm and steered me towards the car park. ‘Of course, if it is bad news, I’ll have to shout and scream and throw a few vases at you and Sean, but then I’ll be fine.’

  I was glad she could laugh about it now. She’d had another counselling session the night before and had come home on a high again. Meeting up with her friendly stalker’s sister had also been invaluable. It had shown her how it was possible to have Parkinson’s, still work, and still have a busy social life.

  The knocker sounded just before seven, setting my pulse racing again. I opened the door and nearly melted. He was in a suit! And he looked even better in one than Scott had. OMG! Swoon!

  ‘Sorry about the outfit,’ he said, catching me staring. ‘I had an appointment which ran over. I could either change and be late, or be on time in a suit.’

  ‘I love a man in a suit,’ I said, still drinking him in.

  Sam laughed and I snapped out of my trance, placing my hands on my burning cheeks. ‘Did I just say that aloud?’

  ‘Yes. I’m glad I meet with your approval.’

  ‘Oh, Sam, you know you do. And now you’ve just gone and ticked another box.’

  That intense look was in his eyes again. He reached out his hand as though he was going to touch my face or my hair. Too intimate. I quickly stepped back into the hall. ‘Come in. I’ll introduce you to Mum.’

  Sam followed me through to the kitchen diner. ‘This is my mum, Julie. Mum, this is Dr Sam Jones.’

  Mum stood up and shook his hand. ‘Thank you so much for doing this. You do realise that you’re now trapped in the cottage until you give a conclusive diagnosis.’

  Sam smiled. ‘I’m sure I can help you but I might have to pretend I can’t so you can trap me here forever.’ He looked at me as he said that and my stomach fizzed. ‘You have a lovely home, Julie.’

  ‘Thank you. I like you already,’ Mum said.

  ‘I’ve always loved this street. The houses have so much land and I love how they’re all unique. I bet you have a sea view too, don’t you?’

  Mum grinned. ‘We certainly do.’ She led Sam out onto the deck.

  I busied myself filling the kettle and preparing drinks. My hands were shaking so much that I managed to get more coffee granules on the worktop than in Mum’s mug. Idiot!

  ‘Please take a seat,’ Mum said, stepping back into the kitchen diner with Sam. ‘Jemma was about to make drinks. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘I’ll be bouncing
off the walls if I have any more caffeine today. Just some water for me, please.’ The smile he gave me made my legs feel like water. I’d gone and done it, hadn’t I? I’d gone and fallen for him big time. Trust me to pick someone emotionally unavailable this time instead of physically unavailable. It wasn’t like it was forever, though. I just needed to give him some time and, if the looks he was giving me were anything to go by, he was definitely keen; just not ready. I could wait.

  Sam placed his pad, a pen and various other documents on the kitchen table. ‘Jemma’s told me about your diagnosis, but I’d like to start completely afresh if that’s okay. Imagine I know nothing about you so that we don’t miss anything.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Mum said.

  ‘The best starting point is to ask you what you hope to get from this session with me.’

  ‘Some clear direction,’ Mum said. ‘I’ve been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and, whilst I don’t like Dr Steadman, that side of it seems to be okay, but there’ve been other things. Let’s call them incidents. I don’t know whether they’re related to the Parkinson’s or if there’s something else going on, but he’s been as much use as a chocolate teapot. I’m hoping you can give me some clear answers so I can move forwards and work out how to live my life, even if that means there’s something else going on that I need to face.’

  Sam nodded. ‘Sounds reasonable and I’m sure I can help you move forward. What I need to do is explore your full medical history, including your diagnosis, and then we’ll talk about the “incidents” you refer to. It may take some time to make sure we cover everything so please do say if you want a break, some air, another drink and so on. I want you to be comfortable. We’ll also do something called the MMSE. That stands for Mini Mental State Examination.’ He smiled reassuringly at Mum. ‘Sounds scarier than it is. It’s basically a pen and paper exercise that will take about ten minutes or so. Nothing to worry about, but I’ll explain more about it when we get to it. Are you ready to start?’

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  I squeezed Mum’s hand beneath the table. ‘Thanks for doing this, Sam,’ I said.

  ‘Any time. I’m only sorry that you both don’t feel that you’re getting the support you need at the hospital. Right, let’s make a start…’

  Sam was amazing. Where Dr Steadman’s approach was cold and clinical, Sam’s was warm and informal, showing empathy where appropriate, and making Mum laugh at other times. He couldn’t have done more to put her at ease. Although he knew a lot of the information already from our discussions, he didn’t let on that he knew it, exploring each “incident” as though it was the first time he’d heard about it. I added in a few bits here and there but it was mostly Mum who did the talking. He insisted we take a break before moving onto the test.

  ‘Oh, Jemma, he’s wonderful,’ she said as we stretched our legs on the deck, thankful for the dry evening.

  ‘He is, isn’t he?’

  ‘It’s a shame you two are just friends. He’d make a fabulous boyfriend.’

  I had to turn away so she couldn’t see the tears glistening in my eyes. ‘He probably would, but neither of us are in the right place to consider a relationship right now. Who knows. Maybe the friendship will grow into something more.’

  Returning to the dining table, Sam explained more about the test. He said that he’d ask her a series of questions first, then move onto the pen and paper test. He asked her what day of the week it was, what date, what year and I realised I’d been holding my breath while she answered them quickly and, thankfully, accurately. After the incident with our old house, I half-expected her to give a date of a decade earlier. He gave her the name of a man and the first line of his address, asked her a couple more questions, then asked her to tell him the name of the man and his address. She reeled them off without hesitation. He asked her to spell the word “world” backwards, which she did quicker than I managed in my head. He then asked her to count backwards from one hundred in sevens. We laughed when Mum admitted that her seven times table had been her nemesis at school and why couldn’t he have asked her for her fives. But she did it.

  When they moved onto the pen and paper test, Sam handed me a copy of the questions so I could see what Mum was going to answer. It contained more questions along the lines of what he’d already asked, plus some shapes for her to copy. It didn’t take long before she handed the completed test back to Sam.

  ‘Do I get my degree now?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘I can print you a fake one off the internet if you like. Give me a couple of minutes to look at this.’

  I squeezed Mum’s hand again.

  A few minutes later, Sam nodded and put the test aside. ‘Dr Steadman definitely didn’t do any of these tests with you?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  ‘I can’t understand why he didn’t do this. Sometimes it’s helpful to do tests like this to help point towards a diagnosis around memory problems, such a dementia, but it can be equally helpful to do them to rule out something like dementia. In your case, Julie, I have a really clear diagnosis…’

  I nibbled on my thumbnail as I waited. Please don’t say dementia. Please don’t.

  ‘From our conversation this evening and from these tests, it’s my professional opinion that you do not have dementia.’

  ‘Not?’ I asked.

  He smiled. ‘Not.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Mum said.

  ‘You’re sure? I don’t mean to doubt you, but…’

  ‘I’m sure. If Julie had dementia, she wouldn’t have got a near enough perfect score on the tests.’

  ‘But there’ve been some pretty major incidents,’ I said. ‘Particularly the turning up at the wrong address.’

  Mum nodded. ‘She’s right. If it’s not dementia, what is it as that’s not normal behaviour?’

  ‘There are a couple of possibilities,’ Sam said. ‘One is that there’s something else going on that we can only detect with a CT or MRI scan. Have you had either of those, Julie?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Obviously that’s not something I can arrange for you, but you can insist that Dr Steadman does. However, my personal opinion is that it’s the other possibility.’

  ‘Which is…?’ Mum said.

  ‘Stress.’

  Mum frowned. ‘Stress? Are you being serious?’

  ‘Very serious. Look at you, Julie. You’re a single mother running your own business, which is open seven days a week for a significant part of the year. In addition to that, you make bears, you run workshops, and you value bears for two different companies; a role that sees you travelling extensively. That’s an enormous workload that a normal person would struggle to maintain for a few months. You’ve been doing it for years and it’s bound to have taken its toll. Although you were divorced at the time, the death of your husband will have affected you, even if you didn’t realise it at the time. Throw in a Parkinson’s diagnosis, and I think that’s tipped you over the edge.’

  I looked at Mum and she shrugged. ‘I’ve always been busy at work. I’m used to it.’

  ‘She has,’ I agreed.

  ‘And I’d suggest that it’s now caught up with you,’ Sam said. ‘I can tell that neither of you are convinced. Stress, unfortunately, is one of those words that gets overused. People who are a bit busy say they’re stressed and there have been loads of cases of employees claiming to be off sick with work-related stress who are really trying it on. Stress – proper stress – is a very serious condition with dangerous repercussions.’

  Sam went on to explain that some people under severe stress could have cognitive symptoms such as memory problems and difficulty in concentrating, emotional symptoms such as agitation, moodiness and anger, physical symptoms such as aches and pains, nausea, rapid heart rate, and behavioural problems such as eating more or less, sle
eping more or less and neglecting responsibilities. We could put a tick against most of the symptoms under each of those four areas.

  ‘So you’re saying that all of those incidents could have been reactions to stress?’ Mum asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And turning up at Fountain Street? I mean, that’s a huge thing.’

  ‘That as well, although I’d suspect that something happened that day to trigger it. Did anything unusual happen?’

  ‘Typical day in the world of retail,’ Mum said. ‘Lots of lovely customers and one idiot. We caught someone trying to steal a bear, which is never nice to deal with. And, of course I found out–’ She stopped and looked at me, eyes wide.

  ‘You found out what?’

  ‘Oh, Jemma, I’d completely forgotten. I promise I wasn’t keeping secrets.’

  My heart started racing. ‘What?’

  Mum’s shoulders slumped. ‘Eddie Holmes.’

  I felt my body stiffen at the mention of his name. Murderer. The drunk driver who killed Dad. ‘What about him?’

  ‘There was an article in The Bay News. He hit a young girl on a zebra crossing. Drunk again.’

  ‘Killed her?’

  ‘No. She was badly hurt, but not life-threatening.’

  ‘He should have been locked up for life.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. I know.’ She looked at Sam. ‘He was the drunk driver who killed Jemma’s dad. Don’t even get me started on what I think of the justice system for the ridiculously short sentence they bestowed on him. First offence, my arse. Pleaded guilty so they’re more lenient, my arse. Ooh, and a driving ban. Like that was going to make any difference when he was already banned from having too many points and had no tax and insurance anyway.’

  Sam sighed. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been so hard on you all. It sounds like that news was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Julie. I’d suggest that, on autopilot, you headed for what had once been your sanctuary: your home before Eddie Holmes took Jemma’s dad away from you all.’