by Kate Hewitt
“I can manage,” Tina said with a kind of chilly dignity, taking the things from Olivia. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
Olivia tried to smile, although she still felt near tears. “It’s okay, Mum.”
“We were playing bridge?” She sounded wondering.
“Yes, you like bridge.” She hesitated, unsure if she should press the issue or not. “It doesn’t matter now, Mum,” she finally said. “Get some sleep.”
Twenty minutes later Tina was settled into bed; Olivia had tucked her in like a child, sitting on the edge of the bed until she’d drifted off.
Back in the sitting room, she glanced helplessly at Simon and he just opened his arms. Olivia walked into them, grateful for the comfort. Thankful there was someone in her life to be there for her, a comforting shoulder, a steady presence.
“That’s never happened before,” she mumbled against his chest as his arms closed around her and drew her close. “I mean, she’s been forgetful and things, but not like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You seemed like you knew what to do.”
“My grandmother had Alzheimer’s. The doctor told us to give her the facts of a situation when she was confused, as well as options. Help her to feel in control.”
“Thank you for doing that. Clearly I need to do more research.” She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar, woodsy scent, savouring the connection. “I suppose I’ve been fooling myself a little bit, because she’s seemed okay these last few days. I didn’t think it was bad as…as that.”
“Like with most things, there are good days and bad days.” He hesitated, and once again Olivia had the sense he wanted to say something more. She lifted her head.
“Simon…?”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “You have a lot to deal with, Olivia.”
“And I’m so glad you’re here to help me with it. I don’t know what I would do without you,” she confessed, and then wondered if she was being too honest, too needy. “I feel badly for bringing you into all this, though.”
“This is life, though, isn’t it?” Simon said with a sad smile. “The good and the bad.”
“Yes, but it’s a lot to deal with, especially in a new relationship.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Still…”
“I mean it.” He sounded so serious, but also a little bleak. Olivia feared the mood had inexplicably altered, and not just because of her mum. She wasn’t sure how to get it back.
Then Simon kissed her softly on the lips. “But let’s not worry about all that now. Each day has its own trouble, right? And remember, it’s almost Christmas.”
*
The next morning Olivia woke up, blinking fuzzily, to see big, fat snowflakes drifting down outside her window. She let out a little yelp of happy surprise, and then heard her phone ping. She grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a photo of Simon’s little garden at Willoughby Close, covered in a very thin layer of snow. White Christmas!
He’d been living there for the last few days, with nothing but a mattress on the floor and a few boxes of possessions. No wonder he was spending all his time with her…although Olivia knew it was more than that. She laughed aloud and sent back a photo of the snowflakes outside her window. See you soon?
Be there in ten.
Still smiling, she got out of bed. Tina was still sleeping and so Olivia took the opportunity to shower and prep the roast dinner they’d be having later. She also put her presents under the tree—a book of sudoku puzzles for her mum that were meant to help cognitive function, as well as a deliciously soft cashmere throw, since her flat was a bit cold. For Simon she’d bought a new Aran jumper in a deep hunter’s green, since his old one had a seriously unravelled hem. Excitement mixed with a few nerves fluttered in her stomach as she thought of him opening it.
“Good morning.” Tina emerged from the bedroom in her dressing gown, looking a lot more like herself.
“Morning, Mum. How are you feeling?”
“I’m well, thank you. Shall I make coffee?” As her mum bustled towards the kitchen, Olivia realised she had no recollection of her blank memory moment last night, and she decided that was okay. They could just go with it. Take the good moments as they came, along with the bad.
Simon arrived a short while later, and they all had coffee and croissants before opening their presents. Tina was thrilled with both the book and the throw, and Olivia held her breath while Simon opened her present, letting out a little sigh of relief when he exclaimed how delighted he was with it, and in typical Simon fashion, insisted on putting it on right then and there.
Then it was her turn, and she opened a flat, rectangular-shaped present from Simon, wondering what it was.
“It’s lovely,” she exclaimed when she saw the buttery-soft leather cover. She flipped through the pages, noting the plastic pockets for photos and the blank, lined pages.
“It’s for your recipes,” Simon explained. “Since you’ve made up so many wonderful ones for the cupcakes. I thought you could put them down for posterity.”
“I love it, truly.” She was so touched he’d got something properly thoughtful, and not just the typical perfume or scarf. “It’s perfect.”
And the rest of the day was perfect, as well—Tina was in good form, and Simon carried them along with his humour and boyish enthusiasm for everything, from being in charge of the Yorkshire pudding batter, to fashioning odd shapes from the linen napkins. He introduced them to a game from his own family—putting an After Eight mint on your forehead and trying to get it into your mouth without hands, by simply wiggling your eyebrows and mouth.
Olivia’s sides ached from laughing and melted chocolate streaked her cheeks as she finally managed to nab the mint and munch it triumphantly. Simon, of course, was a dab hand—no pun intended—at it, managing to get mint from brow to mouth in a mere nine seconds.
“You could be in the Guinness World Records book,” Olivia marvelled while he shrugged modestly.
All in all, Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, or felt so happy. As they clinked glasses of Prosecco over the remains of the turkey, she exchanged smiles with both Tina and Simon, thinking if she could keep this moment intact in her memory forever, holding it in her hands like one of the glass baubles on the tree, she would be perfectly content—no matter what happened or went wrong.
Chapter Fourteen
Alzheimer’s. The word was familiar and yet utterly strange. Olivia sat in the doctor’s office at the memory clinic, after Tina had gone through a memory test and the results of her blood tests, and now they were listening to the expected and yet suddenly startling result.
“There’s no definitive test or diagnosis,” the doctor explained gently. “Only ruling out other options. We can refer you for a CT scan of the brain, which may help, but judging from what I’ve read in your file and seen today, I think this is the most likely outcome.”
Tina nodded stoically, her chin tilted at a proud angle. “I expected as much.”
The doctor glanced at Olivia. “There is loads of support available here in Witney,” she said. “Groups and memory clinics and we can look into different medications and foods that help alleviate some of the symptoms.” She placed several colourful brochures on the desk in front of them. “You can read through the literature and we’ll schedule an appointment for you to come back in a few weeks, and discuss any questions or concerns, as well as how you want to go forward.”
“There’s no fighting it, you know,” Tina told Olivia once they were back in her flat, and Olivia was putting on the kettle for a much-needed cup of tea. “It’s not like cancer. It’s not something you can beat.”
“But you don’t have to give up, Mum.” Olivia felt shaky, even though the diagnosis had been entirely expected. She’d texted Simon to let him know the news, but he hadn’t responded yet.
�
�I’m not giving up. I’ll eat the superfoods and take the supplements or whatever medication will help. And I’ll enjoy my life while I have it. But I just want you to be prepared, Olivia. Decline is inevitable.”
“Oh, Mum.” Impulsively Olivia threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tight, wanting to imbue her with her love and strength. “I love you so much, you know. I don’t tell you often enough…”
“Yes, you do, darling,” Tina said gently. “But you can always tell me again, just as I’ll tell you. I love you. That will never change. No matter how much I forget.” Tina’s lips trembled. “Even if I forget who I am, or who you are. Please know that, darling. Know I’ll always, always love you. I’ll always be proud of who you are, all the things you’ve done. You’re my brightest star, Olivia. Never forget that, even if I do.”
Tears ran down Olivia’s cheeks and she nodded as she took a shuddering breath, not trusting herself to speak without breaking down into sobs. Tina returned her affection with a tight hug and then stepped back as the kettle began to whistle. “Now enough of this nonsense,” she said briskly. “I’m not dead yet, so there’s no need to talk in epitaphs. Why don’t you ring Simon and we’ll play a hand of bridge?”
Simon didn’t pick up, however, and so they played with just the two of them, before Olivia headed back to Wychwood as dusk settled over the fields. She hadn’t seen Simon for two days, which really wasn’t that much, but she was starting to feel the teensiest bit nervous about his radio silence. It was by far the longest they’d gone without talking in admittedly, only ten days. But it had been an amazing, intense ten days.
On Boxing Day they’d had leftovers for lunch and gone for a lovely, long walk through snowy fields along the Lea, and then come back and watched all the special Christmas season telly.
Then yesterday he’d said he needed to organise his new home, and since the subtext seemed to be he was too busy to spend time with her, Olivia let it be. They didn’t have to live in each other’s pockets, after all. These last days had been magical, but Olivia was sensible enough—or so she told herself—to accept that they hadn’t been actual reality. Real life had to intrude at some point, and so now it was. They’d learn to live in the real world, not some snowy, Christmassy idyll.
Still, as she arrived back at Tea on the Lea, Dr Jekyll meowing resentfully at being left alone for so long, she wondered again at Simon’s uncharacteristic silence. He hadn’t replied to any of her three texts, or answered her two calls. She was reluctant to text or call yet again, and clutter up his phone with her clinginess. Perhaps he’d lost his mobile…but then wouldn’t he have let her know? He’d known she was taking her mum to the doctor’s today. They’d made plans to be together afterwards, and he’d acknowledged how she might be a bit shaky. So where was he now?
Restless, Olivia fed Dr Jekyll and made herself a mug of soup, pacing the flat as she sipped it and trying not to feel anxious. A few unanswered texts were hardly the end of the world, and Simon could have any number of reasons not to respond: a family emergency…a lost phone…or perhaps he was just tired, and he’d had a nap all afternoon. Or maybe he was busy with DIY stuff, and hadn’t had a chance to look at his phone. She was being ridiculous. Of course she was.
But when he hadn’t called by ten o’clock that night, Olivia started to feel properly frightened. What if he’d had a fall, alone in number four? What if he was lying at the bottom of the stairs with a broken leg? She tortured herself with various scenarios before she threw on her parka and boots and headed outside. The night was black and starless, the pavements icy, the air sharp and cold, as she headed down the deserted high street towards Willoughby Manor.
She was probably overreacting hugely, and Simon might start to wonder if she was some kind of sick bunny boiler, going out to check on him late at night, peering in his windows. In fact, Olivia nearly turned around at the thought—what on earth was she doing?
But then she thought of Simon lying on the floor, bloody and unconscious, and she kept walking.
Willoughby Close looked empty and forlorn as she came into the courtyard. Simon’s car wasn’t parked there, which surprised her. Where was he, if not at home? She peeked in the windows but the curtains were drawn and she couldn’t see anything. After a few indecisive moments she crept away, and spent a restless night wondering where he was and what he was doing, trying not to feed her ever-growing fear that something was wrong.
When her phone pinged early the next morning Olivia scrabbled on her bedside table for it, only to sigh in disappointment when she saw it was Alice, asking her if she and Simon wanted to come over for drinks on New Year’s Eve. Since she wasn’t sure where Simon was and was starting to doubt the nature of their relationship, she decided to answer it later.
After a restorative shower and a large cup of coffee, Olivia was starting to feel more like herself. Simon would almost certainly get in touch today, with a completely reasonable explanation, and she would laugh at her paranoia and never, ever tell him how freaked out she’d become.
She spent the morning tidying the flat and then taking down the Christmas decorations in the shop, getting everything ready for a reopen on January second. She made a shopping list to restock, and fiddled around with some new recipes…checking her phone every few minutes all the while.
In the afternoon she drove into Witney to check on her mum, and they went for a walk around town before having tea at a cute little shop in the Woolgate Centre. When she got back home in the early evening, Simon still hadn’t been in touch and she was starting to panic properly, forgetting all the resolutions she’d made about keeping her cool.
Something had to be wrong. He wouldn’t just go quiet on her like this, not without sending a single text. That wasn’t like him at all, and yet Olivia was forced to acknowledge that she had only known Simon for a handful of weeks, and they’d been dating for less than that. Yes, things had become intense quickly, and she felt as if she knew him…but did she really? What if he was one of those serial monogamists who loved the initial rush of a relationship, but then scarpered off? What if he was like her dad, someone who stayed for the short term but couldn’t handle the long haul?
Fear wound everything inside her tighter and tighter, until she couldn’t think properly at all. She felt as if she could barely function, and she hated that already he’d affected her so much. She was more than halfway to falling in love with him, and perhaps he’d already broken her heart. What else was she to think?
She called him again, leaving a voicemail she hoped was upbeat but feared sounded frantic, and then settled in for a night of watching telly alone—something that wouldn’t have bothered her before, but everything had changed with Simon. She wanted so much more out of life now. She wanted to be with him, and this sudden silence from him was making her realise how much she cared about him…and how afraid she was that she’d already lost him.
Just like her dad. Issues she’d never even realised she had suddenly swamped her—because as she sat there alone, staring at the TV, she knew part of her had been waiting for this all along. To be left behind. To be discarded, because she wasn’t important enough to somebody. She never had been. Still a supporting role in her life, she thought gloomily as she dug in the freezer for a pint of mint chocolate ice cream. It was time to pull out all the comfort stops.
By New Year’s Eve Olivia was feeling utterly despondent. It had been five days since she’d seen Simon, four since she’d heard from him, and even though she kept telling herself that this still didn’t have to be a big deal, in her heart she knew it was. Simon wasn’t the kind of man to not be in touch…except it seemed he was. It had to be the end of everything, because what else could it be? She had no other answers, no possibilities that didn’t border on the utterly ludicrous.
She texted Alice to say they’d have to give New Year’s Eve a miss, and spent the last day of the year binging on a boxed set and yet another tub of ice cream, feeling utterly miserable. At least Dr Jekyll was in
a friendly mood, sprawled in her lap, his purring as loud as the motor of the car.
A few minutes later, however, determined tapping at the door downstairs had Olivia upending a highly offended cat from her lap. She hurried downstairs, so sure, so absolutely certain that Simon would be standing there, with his colourful scarf and unruly hair and wry grin—and a credible, completely understandable reason why he’d been AWOL for five days. Except he wasn’t.
“Bella…?” Olivia said slowly as she opened the door to Simon’s sister. They hadn’t officially met yet, but obviously Bella knew who she was, to be here at nearly ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve—and Olivia knew who she was, from the concert in the church what felt like a lifetime ago now. “Is everything okay?” Her heart lurched with fear. “Is Simon…?”
Bella looked weary and careworn, swathed in a thick winter coat. “May I come in?”
“Yes, of course. I thought you were still visiting your in-laws…”
“I was, but when Simon didn’t answer his phone or respond to my texts, I started to get worried. I drove home this afternoon.”
Olivia’s stomach freefell towards her toes. Oh no. Oh no… “Worried…” she whispered, barely managing to get the one word out. “What… Why?”
Bella sighed heavily, raking a hand through her hair the same way Simon so often did. “You don’t…you don’t know about Simon, do you?”
“Know what?” Olivia asked numbly. She was getting really tired of people knowing more about Simon than she did. She wanted to know him completely. She wanted to be given the chance. “I know about how he got fired from his teaching job in London…” she began, trailing off uncertainly. She knew about his brother dying, and the effect it had had on him. She knew he was funny and sweet and sometimes a little bit sad. She knew a lot, and yet right now she had a feeling there was something she didn’t know. Something big.
