Bear With Me

by Jessica Redland

  The loneliness was easy to recognise because I’d experienced it first-hand when I’d moved to London six years ago. I’d phone Mum and Karen, making out that I had loads of new friends and an active social life when the reality was that I’d moved into a shared flat with the most peculiar, anti-social group of individuals I’d ever encountered, I hated my job, my colleagues were an unwelcoming clique, and the only places I ever went were the supermarket, the library, or the cinema… on my own. Thankfully I secured a new job at Past Lives Museum a few months later and moved into a flat with friendly people, at which point I started to love my life in London.

  The door buzzer rang indicating the arrival of pizza and the flat burst into life again. Drew had done his usual trick of ordering a really spicy topping, then pouring with sweat and glugging down a couple of pints of water. Every time. Why did he never learn? I watched their easy banter with each other and with Sam, smiling to myself. They’d promised lots of visits up north. I was realistic enough to know it wouldn’t be every couple of months like they’d suggested. Drew and Tiff worked shifts and, being London born and bred, the three of them had loads of friends down south and were often doing family things. A couple of times a year would be amazing, though, and I’d love to come and stay with them too although I wasn’t sure how realistic it would be to leave Mum, Sean, and Bear With Me for the weekend.

  When we’d finished eating, I put my hand on the knob to my bedroom door and turned to Sam. ‘Before we go in, I should warn you that I have lots of bears. They’re not everyone’s cup of tea, but I love them.’

  He looked around my bedroom in silence then slowly walked towards my bedside drawers. Bending down, he stared at Diamond for a moment. ‘Did your mum make this one?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’ Mum sewed identification tags, a bit like washing instruction labels, into her bears. She always put them in their bottoms, though, so they didn’t spoil the look of the bear when he was seated.

  ‘His face,’ Sam said. ‘He looks a lot like the one I bought for Nikki. I’ve spent hours staring at that bear since she died.’

  I was about to ask him what she was like, but he turned away from Diamond and smiled. ‘You said you make bears?’

  ‘Mum makes Ju-Sea Bears, which tend to be medium to large. I make Ju-Sea Jem Bears, which are small to miniature.’ I pointed to a shelf. ‘I made those.’

  ‘Can I pick one up?’ he asked.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  He reached forward and picked up a miniature grey bear wearing a crocheted green scarf. ‘Christ! What have you got in here? Weights?’

  I laughed. ‘It’s lead shot. It weighs down their bums so they sit better.’

  Sam sat the bear in the palm of his hand. ‘You and your mum are extremely talented.’

  ‘Mum’s the talented one. I do my best.’

  He put the grey bear down and picked up a miniature panda. ‘Don’t sell yourself short. These are exceptional.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Are these for sale or are they your personal ones?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’ll probably put them up for sale in Bear With Me.’

  ‘Can I buy the panda and this purple one for my nieces? I’ve been a rubbish uncle since Nikki died and I feel I should go home with gifts. I’d rather get them something they can keep and appreciate when they’re older than duplicate something they’ve already got.’

  ‘How old are they?’

  ‘Connie’s three, and Saffron’s… crap. I don’t actually know. She was born after Nikki died but it’s a blur as to how long after.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think I even got them a congratulations card, never mind a gift.’

  ‘You had a lot to deal with.’

  ‘Even so, it’s not fair on Jack and Millie. Connie’s definitely three but Saffron could be anywhere up to ten months old. If Jack had his own way, they’d have another on the way, but Millie’s put her foot down.’

  ‘Three kids under school age? Wow! He’s brave.’

  I was relieved to see the serious expression slip from Sam’s face as he smiled. ‘Either that or bloody stupid. I haven’t quite worked out which. How much do I owe you for these?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He looked at me for a moment. ‘Then they will have to go back on the shelf with their friends because I won’t take them.’

  ‘Sam! You have to. Call them a thank you for advice, the help with my packing, and the removals service. Please.’

  Sam picked up the purple bear. ‘What do you think, young Ju-Sea Jem Bear, should we accept her offer?’ He held the bear up to his ear and nodded his head, then turned to me. ‘Mr Purple Bear says okay as long as you let me take you out for a meal next time I’m back in Whitsborough Bay. Not this weekend as you’ll have loads on and I don’t think my family will let me out their sight after a very prolonged absence, but next time.’

  I smiled. ‘It’s a deal. Now stop playing with my bears and help me pack.’

  Sam had been right: two pairs of hands did make light work of it and, within a couple of hours, we’d packed away all of my books, CDs, DVDs, the hug, and various other bits and bobs, leaving me with mainly clothes and toiletries for the following night.

  As we worked, we chatted about growing up in Whitsborough Bay: favourite places, the schools we’d attended, people we knew, whether we preferred North or South Beach, whether we still visited the tourist attractions. It felt so good to be able to chat and laugh about trivial things and I was pretty sure it was a relief to Sam too. There was no avoiding the tough stuff, though, because the places we talked about were places he’d visited with Nikki, some were ones I’d visited with Scott, and all held memories of happy times with Mum. Sam would pause ever so slightly every time he mentioned Nikki and, if I stole a glance at him, he’d have stopped packing and have a distant look in his eyes. Then he’d smile and resume his story. It was heart-breaking to think about what he’d been through with Nikki.

  I wished there was something I could say or do to take the pain away for Sam but what would help? Perhaps just being there and listening to him would make a difference, like it was doing for me.

  Saturday morning arrived. Moving day. It didn’t feel real. I’d said goodbye to Leah, Tiff and Drew on so many occasions, particularly in recent months, to nip home for the weekend but this time it was for good. The end of an era. Three-and-a-half years of tears and laughter, drunken nights out, drunken nights in, parties, movie nights, hangovers, illness, celebrations and commiserations with three of the best friends I could ever hope to meet had come to an end.

  I wasn’t the only one hurting. They might have been giggling like little kids and hurling abuse at each other about who was the strongest and how to hold a box properly, but I knew from the red eyes and the reassuring touches on the arm that they were finding this as hard as I was.

  The three of them traipsed up and down two flights of stairs with my belongings, which Sam packed into Thor the campervan with incredible precision. He’d emptied all the cupboards and under-seat storage for maximum removals capacity, which had been just as well because I’d have had to leave a few boxes behind for later transportation if he hadn’t. I hadn’t realised I’d accumulated quite so much stuff.

  He slammed the door shut, stretched, then glanced at his watch. ‘Ten to ten. Pretty good going.’

  ‘All packed and ready to go?’ Drew asked.

  I nodded. ‘I think so. I’ll go in and do one last check then nip to the loo.’

  A quick look around the room, under the bed, and behind the door satisfied me that I definitely had everything. With a big sigh, I closed my bedroom door for the last time. Placing my key in a colourful dish on a bookshelf by the coat rack, I reached for my coat and scarf from the hooks and paused. This was it. Goodbye to my home, my friends, and life as I knew it. I knew I was doing the right thing for my family
. I just hoped that Mum saw it that way too.

  Chapter 27

  Sam

  ‘You can’t be hungry already,’ Jemma exclaimed as I pulled into the car park of a McDonald’s less than ten minutes away from her flat.

  ‘I’m not.’ Tiff had insisted we had a hearty breakfast before we could start packing and wouldn’t let me lift any boxes until I’d eaten at least two bacon butties. No hardship.

  ‘Then why are we stopping?’

  ‘Because I’ve got something for you. Out you get.’ I got out of Thor and walked round the campervan to meet Jemma.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you need one of these.’ I opened my arms wide and, without hesitation, Jemma snuggled against my chest, sobbing. I’d been watching her desperately trying to hold back the tears as she’d hugged her flatmates and made promises to stay in touch and visit each other regularly. As we set off, I could tell she was still trying to hold it together and it was pointless. We had a long drive ahead of us and she needed to let it go or she’d be on edge for the next four hours.

  ‘Oh my goodness, I needed that,’ she said, releasing me some time later. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘All part of the premium removals service,’ I said, clambering back into the driver’s seat.

  We continued on our way. I could see that Jemma had visibly relaxed, but she was still quiet, staring out of the window, probably trying to imprint the streets around her home in her mind.

  As if reading my thoughts, she said, ‘I promise I will talk to you. I’m just taking it all in for one last time.’

  ‘That’s fine. You take your time.’

  She was quiet for another five minutes or so, then she turned to me. ‘How do you feel about going home? Did you say it’ll be the first time since you moved down south?’

  ‘Yes, which is bad given that I moved here eight months ago.’ I cringed as I said it. Jack had visited a couple of times, and so had my parents, so I had at least seen some of my family, but it was wrong of me not to have made an effort to see the others. ‘I’m a bit nervous. No. Nervous isn’t the right word. Or is it? I don’t know. I feel guilty for staying away for so long. Embarrassed too. And, yes, probably nervous because I think I want to visit the spot of beach where it happened, but I don’t know whether that’s going to be too hard to do.’

  ‘What was she like?’ Jemma asked. ‘We can change the subject if it’s too painful.’

  ‘No, I’d like to talk about her if you don’t mind listening.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere for the next four hours,’ she said, wriggling in her seat so she could face me a bit better.

  I smiled. ‘She was amazing. Absolutely amazing.’

  For the first time, I opened up. I told Jemma the full details about how we met and how grateful I was to Jack for not letting me pull out. I talked about her passion for surfing and how she got me hooked, about buying the campervan and the dream we had of touring round the UK and visiting all the best surfing spots, our engagement, our wedding plans. And the day she dropped to the sand clutching her head and drew her last breath, cradled in my arms. My voice broke at that part and I had to blink back the tears. A loud sniff broke me from the vivid memory and I glanced at Jemma to see tears cascading down her cheeks again. She placed her hand gently on my arm as I concentrated on the road, and concentrated on keeping my own emotions in check.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Sam,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been.’

  ‘I remember people running towards us and me screaming out “somebody call an ambulance” but I knew it was too late. I begged her to stay with me but she was already gone. There was nothing that I or anyone else could have done to prevent it and, as Jack kept telling me afterwards, I had to keep focusing on the fact that I was with her, holding her, when she could easily have been alone. At the time, that didn’t feel comforting because seeing the woman you love dying in front of your eyes is not exactly a good thing, but I understand now what he meant by it and, whilst I obviously wish that it had never happened, I’m glad that I was with her when it did.’

  ‘I wish I’d known her. She sounds like someone I’d have been friends with.’

  ‘I think you would have been. I think she was a closet… what’s that word?’

  ‘What word?’

  ‘For people who love bears.’

  ‘Arctophile.’

  ‘That’s it. Strange word. It sounds rude.’

  Jemma laughed. ‘I know. It comes from the Greek words arctos meaning bear and philos meaning loving, so a lover or collector of bears is an arctophile.’

  ‘Get you, Mrs Knowledgeable.’

  She laughed again. ‘Only about bears. Put me on a quiz team and I’m a liability.’ She rummaged in her pocket for a tissue, blew her nose, and mopped her cheeks. ‘You really think Nikki could have been an arctophile?’

  ‘Judging by how long we spent in Bear With Me when we got our surfer bear and how she kept pointing out which ones she liked best if I was ever stuck for birthday or Christmas gift ideas, I think so.’

  Jemma was silent for a moment. ‘Where did it happen?’ she asked.

  ‘North Beach. Right at the north end just before the rock pools.’

  ‘That’s my favourite part.’

  ‘It was ours too for if we were out for a walk, although it was obviously the other end if we were surfing.’

  We stopped at one of the service stations on the M1 for a quick leg stretch and toilet break, although Jemma was nervous about leaving the campervan unattended so we took turns. She insisted on going second and returned, grinning, with a McFlurry in each hand, her purse tucked under her arm, and a big bag of wine gums dangling from between her teeth.

  I took one of the ice-creams and released the sweets so she could settle herself back into the campervan. ‘I knew you were up to something insisting I go first.’

  ‘I know it’s not exactly ice-cream weather but we’re off to the seaside in a surfer’s campervan so it feels right.’

  We finished our treats and set off again.

  ‘I have a question for you,’ Jemma said when I’d pulled back onto the M1. ‘You don’t have to answer this if you think it’s too intrusive.’

  ‘I like your style. You wait until we’re back on the motorway, trapped together, before you say that.’ I smiled at her. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘You said that you nearly backed out of your date with Nikki because it was too soon after your ex whose name I’ve completely blanked on.’

  I felt my jaw tighten. ‘Kirsty.’

  ‘That’s it! You said that she’d been unfaithful. What happened? Only if you don’t mind telling me.’

  ‘I don’t mind. It would probably do me good to talk about her because, like Nikki, I’ve bottled that up too. Kirsty was… still is… a nurse at Whitsborough Bay General. I’d seen her around and she’d always given me this big grin and sometimes a cheeky wink when she passed me in the corridor, but we’d never had the opportunity to speak. Until the work Christmas party five years ago…’

  Jemma listened as I told her how I couldn’t take my eyes off Kirsty that night and that, despite Jack’s warnings that she’d worked her way through most of the men at the hospital, I convinced myself that she simply hadn’t found the right man yet. And, of course, I was that man. Witnessing an altercation between her and a married man she’d been seeing should have been the warning flag, yet I believed her stories about how he’d told her he was separated or she’d never have started seeing him.

  ‘I’d like to think that there was a significant part of the two years we were together when it was just me she was seeing,’ I said, ‘but, from what came out afterwards, I think it might have been as little as two weeks.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘I caught them at it.
A meeting got cancelled and I came home early, hoping to surprise her, but it was me who got the surprise. I walked into what I can only describe as a scene from a porno film. They were both wearing these studded dog collar things and hers was attached to a lead.’

  Jemma gasped. ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘I wish I was. It gets worse. He was wearing this mask thing with dog ears on it and she was wearing some sort of muzzle. And nothing else. She was on all fours, yelping like a puppy, and he was thrusting into her from behind, barking.’ I shuddered as I said it.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yep. I’ll just make it clear that I never did anything like that with her. I’ve no idea if it was some kinky little fantasy of hers that she thankfully never shared with me, or whether it was his thing and she was happy to go along with it. Either way, that was some serious messed up shit.’

  ‘I assume that was the end for you both?’ Jemma said.

  ‘Definitely. She moved out that night.’

  ‘Wow! Completely different scenario to how I found out about Scott.’

  ‘Both pretty grim, though,’ I said.

  ‘Did you love her?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘Yes. Or at least I’d thought I had until I met Nikki. No, I did. We had a very different relationship to the one I had with Nikki, which is inevitable as they were very different personalities, but I did love her so I was pretty destroyed by what she did.’

  ‘Would you have taken her back?’

  ‘No. There was no way I could trust her after what I caught her doing and, without trust, there was no future for us. I’d have been questioning every text she sent, every phone call she made, every night out she supposedly had with the girls. I’d have worried about her at work too because plenty of gossip came to light about what she got up to in her breaks. If I’d taken her back, there’d have been jealousy, arguments, name-calling. It would have turned nasty.’ I took a sideways glance at Jemma. She was nodding her head thoughtfully.