Bear With Me

by Jessica Redland

  Ten minutes later, my phone rang and my pulse raced. Mum? Sam?

  ‘Hi Leah,’ I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

  ‘How’s it going? Do you miss us?’

  ‘I miss you loads and it’s a disaster.’

  Leaning against a pillar, I sipped on my coffee and told Leah what had happened with Mum and then with Sam on the beach.

  ‘Sounds like Dr Jones has the hots for you and that evil ex of his scared him off,’ Leah suggested.

  ‘No. I don’t think he sees me as more than a friend, although I think you’re right that her comment scared him off. He’s still grieving for Nikki. The suggestion that he was seeing someone else really hurt him.’

  ‘How do you feel about him?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s a good friend. A really good friend.’

  ‘Could he be more than a friend?’

  ‘Leah! Give over. It’s never entered my mind. I’m still trying to get over Scott. I’m not sure I’ll be able to trust anyone again after that. With that and everything going on at home, a new relationship isn’t exactly in my top ten of priorities at the moment. I’d say it’s not even in my top 100. And even if I was in a place to start seeing someone again – which I’m absolutely not – Sam’s still grieving for his fiancée so he’s not exactly potential new boyfriend material. And, even if he wasn’t grieving, he lives in London where I don’t live anymore. Although, if things don’t improve with Mum, I might be begging you for my room back and Owen for my job back.’

  ‘It won’t come to that. Your mum and you will be best friends again in no time. She just needs handling carefully and you admitted yourself that you did exactly the opposite of that.’

  Rachel opened the door a couple of hours later. ‘He’s had his dinner and he’s excited about, and I quote, “thrashing Jem at bowling because she’s rubbisher than a three-year-old”. Sounds like a fun afternoon.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I have no defence. I am rubbish. It’s an inconsistency thing. I’ll get a strike and then I’ll miss every pin on my next three turns or only knock a couple down. Yet I swear I’m not changing my technique. Would Eden like to join us?’

  ‘I’m glad you asked because Sean’s already invited her. You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  I smiled. ‘It’s the least I can do. I should have mentioned it earlier. Sorry.’

  Rachel’s smile faded. ‘Any news from your mum?’

  ‘No. I texted her to say I’d taken Sean out and that I was sorry, but I haven’t heard anything in return. I don’t know what–’

  With squeals of excitement, Sean and Eden thundered down the stairs, ending the conversation. They bounced up and down, each begging to go first.

  ‘I’ll toss a coin for it,’ I said. ‘Or you can play rock, paper, scissors in the taxi.’

  ‘Taxi?’ Rachel peered round me towards the waiting car as Sean and Eden raced each other down the drive. ‘You should have said. I’d have picked you up. I assumed you were in your mum’s car.’

  ‘I didn’t dare take it after this morning’s incident. Thought it might be my turn to be accused of theft.’

  ‘Oh, Jemma. I’ll go round to see her while you’re out with the kids.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I’d like to say that I did myself proud at Bay Bowling but I was completely thrashed by two kids. Embarrassing. It was exactly the distraction I needed, though. Listening to their incessant chatter was so refreshing and it warmed my heart to see how close the pair of them clearly were. I found myself wondering whether their friendship would turn into something more as they got older and, out of nowhere, an image popped into my mind of Sam and me on the beach earlier with his arms wrapped round me, just before Kirsty appeared and ruined things. I pictured tilting my head up and him cupping my face gently before kissing me. Where on earth had that come from? Leah! It was her fault for questioning our relationship. I’d never have thought of it if she hadn’t planted the seed.

  While Sean and Eden played on the penny falls machines before we left the arcade, a text came through:

  * From Rachel

  I’m at Bear’s Pad. Your mum’s OK. She’s more mad with herself than you. Do you want to bring the kids back here? xx

  Sean and Eden spent most of the taxi journey to Bear’s Pad debating whether it was better to have the highest overall score like Eden or the most strikes like Sean. I spent most of the taxi journey trying to control my nausea. I genuinely had no idea what was going to happen with Mum. Rachel had obviously smoothed the waters but I wasn’t sure what the future held, or if I was strong enough to cope with it if the incident this morning was an indication of how things were going to be.

  They were in the lounge. It was all a bit awkward at first. Sean and Eden re-lived every miniscule detail of our game then shared a long, convoluted tale about how they’d tried to win a cheap and nasty keyring on the penny falls and how it had dangled tantalisingly for turn after turn before finally tipping over the edge and promptly breaking. They’d pestered the woman in the change kiosk until she relented and gave them a better quality keyring each. Then we had tears because Eden thought she’d left hers in the taxi before remembering that she’d attached it to her coat. All the while, I loitered in the doorway, watching as Mum laughed in the right places, feigned interest, and seemingly did anything to avoid eye contact with me.

  ‘How about you take Eden into the kitchen to get a drink?’ Rachel said to Sean when he started to relay yet another tale.

  ‘What do you want to drink?’ Sean asked Eden.

  ‘Take her into the kitchen and let her pick,’ Rachel said firmly. ‘Then you can take your drinks up to your bedroom and play Minecraft again.’

  Sean shrugged. ‘Come on, Eden.’ They ran out the room, giggling.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down, Jemma?’ Rachel suggested. ‘Julie’s got something she wants to say to you.’

  Obediently, I perched on the nearest armchair, and waited.

  Mum cleared her throat. ‘When I was Sean’s age, I had a really bad case of the chicken-pox. Spots were everywhere: on my eyelids, in my ears, in my mouth and in my, er, lady bits, shall we say? I’d barely had a day’s sickness until then and I didn’t cope well with being so poorly. Apparently I worked myself into a frustrated frenzy, shouting, crying, hurling myself around. Inevitably, that heated my body up and made the itching worse, making me even more frustrated and upset. My mum couldn’t cope. I actually made her ill and she had to send me to my grandma’s after a few days. Thankfully I’ve been pretty healthy since then other than when the flu wiped me out a couple of years ago. I slept most of the time then so didn’t get a chance to work myself into a frenzy. Then I got diagnosed with Parkinson’s and I’ve felt like that frustrated ten-year-old all over again, hating what’s happening to me, but powerless to do anything about it.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I’m not coping well with this diagnosis. I thought I was the sort of person who could take anything that life wanted to throw at me. I thought I was really strong. I thought I was a fighter. But that’s obviously not the case.’

  ‘You are strong,’ I insisted. ‘You’re the strongest person I know. I’ve always wanted to be more like you.’

  ‘Oh, Jemma-bear. You don’t want to be like me. Or at least not the me that I am at the moment. I’m angry, I’m bitter and I want to lash out. Right now, I feel as though I hate the world and everyone in it. I especially hate that Dr Steadman for being such a useless imbecile. I’m scared that I turned up at our old house, I’m scared that I left the shop unlocked, I’m scared that I shouted at Sean and accused him of stealing money that I’d forgotten I’d spent, and I’m scared that I yelled at you and threw a mug at the door which could easily have hit you. None of that is normal behaviour yet all he can say is that his investigations are “inconclusive”. What the bloody hell is “inconclusive” when it’s at home?
Yet the stupid prick doesn’t seem to think I need a further appointment to get something that is conclusive. Where does that leave me? I just want to know what’s wrong with me because I’m worried that, as well as the Parkinson’s, there’s something else going on.’

  Rachel and I exchanged looks. ‘What do you think might be wrong with you?’ I ventured, hoping it was the right thing to ask.

  Mum shrugged. ‘Losing my marbles. Going doolally. It would be just my luck to have senile dementia too.’

  I glanced across at Rachel again but she widened her eyes and shook her head. I agreed. Mum was joking. It wasn’t up to me to suggest that perhaps she’d hit the nail on the head with her mention of dementia. I’d leave that to a medical professional. Like Sam.

  ‘Would you like a second opinion?’ I asked.

  ‘God, yes! Do you happen to know anyone who’s an expert in these matters?’

  I paused for a moment. ‘Actually, I do…’

  I’ve never picked my words so carefully in my life. The last thing I wanted her to know was that I’d only met Sam in the first place because I was worried about her, or that we’d already discussed him doing an off the record consultation. I just hoped he was still willing to do that after the incident on the beach.

  Mum loved the idea. I left it that I’d call Sam later, telling Mum that there was no guarantee he’d be able to see her, but I’d do my best to arrange something.

  After that, she apologised and said she was going to get some counselling to help her manage her anger. One of Rachel’s regular travel clients was a counsellor so Rachel was going to find out her areas of specialism. If she didn’t specialise in what Mum needed, they’d find someone else. Quickly.

  ‘I am going to need to take a step back at work,’ Mum said. ‘You’re absolutely right about that. I’ve known it for a while, but I haven’t wanted to accept it. I refuse to let Parkinson’s completely change my life but I do accept that I’m going to have to make a few adjustments. Parkinson’s or no Parkinson’s, I’ve always known that, at some point, I’d have to slow down because nobody can sustain my work level forever, especially with all the travel that’s involved. I guess I wanted to make that decision for myself rather than have the decision imposed on me but we don’t always get what we want, do we? I’ve composed resignation letters for both the valuation roles, but I haven’t sent them yet. I’m not procrastinating. I just want to see whether you want to take on either or both roles before I hand in my notice.’

  I wasn’t sure whether Mum wanted me to respond, but I couldn’t give her a decision until I knew whether I had a job in Bear With Me or whether I’d be moving back to London.

  After a slight pause, Mum continued. ‘I need to step back from Bear With Me too, but I refuse to do that completely. It’s my business and it’s such an important part of my life that I don’t think I could cope without it–’

  ‘I wasn’t trying to push you out,’ I interrupted. ‘I handled the conversation really badly.’

  Mum smiled. ‘That makes two of us. I know you’re not trying to push me out but the truth hurt earlier. Things are slipping. I’m behind with the accounts, I’m making a mess of the ordering, and I double-booked a workshop last week. I had five people turn up to learn how to make bears and another four for a basic sewing class half an hour later. Neither of the workshops were in the diary. I’m making a Ju-Sea Bear at the moment but I don’t know who it’s for. I’ve got the brief written down in the order pad, but no customer name or phone number. I’m going to have to hope that the customer phones up to ask if the bear’s ready. I still want to work in the shop. I need to work in the shop. If you’re willing, though, I’d like you to take on the management side by which I mean the accounts, orders, bills, marketing, workshops, events, and so on. I’ll still manage the team but I’ll step away from the behind the scenes stuff which I’m messing up. You can work in the shop too if you want. I think I told you that Lucy resigned. I haven’t got around to replacing her yet so you can have her hours. With those shop hours and the behind-the-scenes responsibilities, I reckon you could have a reasonably full-time job, but you might want to take on one or both valuation roles for a bit more excitement.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. It sounds perfect.’

  ‘Not as good as being a museum curator, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Being here for you and Sean is more important than that.’

  Mum nodded. ‘I know I told you to leave earlier, but I didn’t mean that. You’ve made a big sacrifice for Sean and me and I really do appreciate it. It’s going to make a massive difference to us both and to the business having you around. It’s not going to be easy, though. I’m going to get counselling and hopefully a second diagnosis if your friend can do that, but the anger and frustration isn’t going to go away overnight. We’ve got some tough times ahead. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Your mum’s going to get a cleaner in too,’ Rachel said.

  ‘You don’t have to do that. I can do it.’

  Mum shook her head. ‘No. If you’ve moved back home for good, you need to have a social life instead of spending every non-working hour cleaning.’

  ‘I don’t mind helping.’

  She shook her head again. ‘You don’t need to. It’s already arranged. Someone in the village has a cleaning company. She’s going to send one of her team round every Friday to clean and every Tuesday to do the ironing. All we need to do is keep on top of the washing. When we get to spring, we may need a gardener too but we’re fine for now. So how does that all sound?’

  I moved across to the sofa and hugged Mum. ‘It sounds great. Thank you.’ She held me tightly and whispered “sorry” into my ear but I told her to forget it and that I understood. And I did understand. For a young, fit, healthy woman, this was one hell of a shock and I could see why dealing with it was such a struggle. I just hoped that the counselling would help her control her temper and get her to see us as allies instead of the enemy. I also hoped that Sam would still be willing to give that second diagnosis.

  Chapter 31

  Sam

  I sat in the campervan at the same services I’d stopped at with Jemma the week before. Pretty much the same parking space too. And the same time and day of the week. I stared out of the window, half-expecting her to bound down the steps with a McFlurry in each hand and a packet of wine gums dangling from her teeth. Had it really only been a week ago? Seemed longer.

  Digging my phone out of my pocket, I scrolled through the text conversation I’d had with Jemma on Sunday night:

  * From Jemma

  The good news is that I don’t need to book a return removals service. Yay! Mum’s calmed down, we’ve both apologised, I’m staying, and I’ve got a job in the shop plus a chance to put in for her valuing jobs. The bad news is that Mum isn’t coping well and she now thinks there’s something wrong other than the Parkinson’s. She’s even mentioned dementia although she was joking so I kept quiet about that. Have just fired off yet another complaint email about Dr S and his inadequacies. Anyway, she would love a 2nd opinion and if you’re able to come home next weekend and could fit in an off the record consultation, we’d both be really grateful :) xx

  I’d read that first text when I arrived back at the flat late that evening. All I’d been able to think about all day was Kirsty’s comment and the guilt I felt at having imagined kissing Jemma. I had to step away from her. I’d quickly typed in a response:

  * To Jemma

  Great news that you’ve sorted things out with your mum. Really sorry but I may not make it up north again next weekend

  * From Jemma

  That’s OK. I understand. It’s a long drive 2 weekends in a row and I know it’s probably awkward for you when she’s not officially your patient. We’ll hopefully sort something else out as she hates Dr S. Maybe go private. Thanks for all your help so far. You’ve be
en a true-life superhero x

  How big a shit did I feel? She was trying to make excuses for my inadequacies and feelings of guilt.

  * To Jemma

  I still want to help. I’ll definitely be home again before Christmas. I’ll let you know when I’ve got a date and I can meet your mum then

  * From Jemma

  Mum can’t really wait that long. It’s fine. As I said, we’ll sort something else out. Thank you

  The drop from two kisses to one and then none said more about how she felt than the actual words. If I’d felt like a big shit before, I now felt like a sewer-full of the stuff. I’d upset her and I’d let her down, big time. I’d offered her friendship and support then had snatched it away the minute there was a suggestion of something more than friendship. Yet where had that suggestion come from? Kirsty bloody Griggs! It wasn’t like Jemma had been flirting with me or that she’d given me any indication that she wanted to be anything other than mates. It was Kirsty who’d planted that idea and my own guilt that had given it wings. What was wrong with me? I’d craved friendship, I’d got it, and I’d thrown it away. Idiot!

  Ten minutes later, while I was still debating how to handle things, another text arrived from Jemma:

  * From Jemma

  I may be way off the mark here so sorry if I am but I have to ‘say’ this. I really like you, Sam, and I know that you like me too. You don’t go over and above like you’ve done for someone you don’t reckon much to. I know you felt that instant connection when we met and we’ve both said it feels like we’ve known each other for ages. We may only have met recently but we’ve been through some intense times together. I value your friendship and I value your counsel and I’m pretty sure you feel the same about me. This morning was another great example of us supporting each other through tough times and I was looking forward to continuing to be there for you. Then your vicious ex appeared and started spouting her crap. I don’t know which part of it hit a nerve or whether it all did, but you need to know that what she said this morning wasn’t worth the breath it took for her to say it. If you’re pulling away because I’ve asked too much of our fledgling friendship and you need some time to yourself, I understand. I have been pretty needy. But if you’re pulling away because of that absolute bollocks that Kirsty said, I urge you to think again. I know you’re not ready to move on from Nikki and I’m not asking you to. I’m still trying to get over Scott. Neither of us is ready for a relationship with each other or with anyone else. But I didn’t think that’s what we were building up to. You never gave me the impression you wanted more and I hope I didn’t either. I thought we were building a friendship. If that’s what you still want, please stay in touch as you may be my newest friend but you’re someone I want to keep in my life xx