Bear With Me

by Jessica Redland

  I’d listened to Fiona, shaking my head, waiting for some sort of punch line to a sick joke. But the punch line never came.

  ‘When?’ I’d whispered.

  ‘Friday 15th July.’

  The staffroom started to spin at that point and I’d thought for a moment that I was either going to faint or throw up. Fiona pushed a glass of water to my lips, ordering me to sip it. Gradually everything returned to focus.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have just come out with it like that. I know what that date means. It was the date he was going to leave me for you, wasn’t it?’

  I grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the table. ‘No. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t turn up. He chose you,’ I said, wiping my cheeks. ‘He sent me a text that night to say…’ I stared at Fiona, open-mouthed. ‘You said he collapsed after lunch. That text came through around 11.00pm. That would mean… Was that you? Did you send the text from his phone?’

  She lowered her eyes and nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I was angry.’ She looked up again, guilt plastered across her face. ‘They gave me this bag, you see. At the hospital. This see-through plastic bag with his belongings in it. His watch, his wedding ring, his wallet. And there were two phones. I remember holding the bag up and staring at them, wondering why he had two. His boss and one of his colleagues were at the hospital still. I said they might as well have Adam’s phones back. His boss said one was theirs but not the other. His colleague joked that I must recognise it because it was Adam’s “private” phone and that he was always phoning and texting me on it. I pretended I knew what he was talking about and pleaded a post-pregnancy-brain moment.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Standing in that hospital corridor staring at that unfamiliar phone, I suddenly knew. Worse than that, I realised that I’d been expecting it. I’d always known that, one day, he’d find someone he truly loved because I knew that he didn’t love me. Not in that way.’

  Fiona explained how her sister, Dawn, told her that no good would come of unlocking the phone and discovering the secrets it held, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to know who he’d given his heart to.

  ‘Dawn’s boyfriend’s a bit dodgy,’ she said. ‘He unlocked the phone and there you were: the woman my husband loved. Texts, photos, emails, a Facebook account. A whole new life for someone called Scott Hastings.’

  She’d read the most recent texts, which made it clear that Scott was planning to leave her to be with me. At that point, anger took over and she sent the text telling me that he’d picked her instead. She’d then worked back through the texts, revealing my discovery that he had a wife and twins, the “where are you?” texts when he ghosted me, and as far back as the proposal. Then Dawn took the phone off her. The damage was already done, though. She knew.

  ‘Dawn wouldn’t give me the phone back,’ Fiona said. ‘She said that Adam wasn’t around to justify or explain what had happened and that I’d only work myself into a frenzy going through every single text and Facebook post if she let me keep the phone. I had to remember him as the great husband and father I’d thought he was earlier that day and leave it there. She said I’d regret sending the text to you and she was right. I had no right to lash out like that and I had no right to keep the news of his death from you. She may be younger than me, but my sister’s a hell of a lot wiser.’

  ‘So what made you tell me now?’

  ‘Scott’s office forwarded me an envelope containing a blank cheque for £500. You hadn’t signed the note but obviously your name was on the cheque. I didn’t know what to make of it so I told Dawn. She’d been keeping an eye on Adam’s phone and said that you’d sent him a text saying that you wanted the money to go to the hospital or the twins. It was obvious that you were a decent person and not the husband-stealing bitch I wanted to believe you were. She said I definitely owed you the truth so here I am. I donated the money to the special care baby unit, by the way.’

  I sipped on my water, trying to take it all in. Scott was dead. He hadn’t stood me up. He’d been laid out on a mortuary slab instead. I shuddered at the thought.

  ‘It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?’ Fiona said. ‘I often have to remind myself that he’s not just away on another business trip. He’s never coming home again.’

  We sat in silence. The tears started again as I thought about how hurt I’d been after that last text from him and how much I’d hated him at that moment. And he hadn’t even sent that text!

  ‘Did he tell you that I tricked him into marrying me?’ she asked. ‘I felt him slipping away from me so I told him I was pregnant knowing that he’d ask me to marry him because that’s the sort of man he was. I lay awake each night, haunted by feelings of guilt. I kept psyching myself up to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t face losing him. A couple of weeks later, I discovered I really was pregnant so I convinced myself that it was okay to go through with it. I had this little fantasy that he’d properly fall in love with me when we became a real family. It was a quickie wedding with a handful of guests – mainly from my side of the family because his parents live in Canada and his dad’s struggles to travel. You probably know that, though. Anyway, we lost the baby at eight weeks. I knew then that I should let go of Adam too, but I couldn’t. I still held onto the fantasy that he’d wake up one day and realise that he’d fallen in love with me, with or without a family, but it never happened.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.

  ‘It was my stupid fault. I’d made my bed and I had to lie in it and I did everything I could to keep us together. There were so many occasions when he came home and I knew he was building up to telling me it was over, but I never let him come out with it. I pulled a guilt trip on him every time. Then, of course, I fell pregnant with the twins and I knew I was safe for a while because I was under strict orders to avoid any stress.’

  So Scott had been right. He hadn’t lied to me about anything else. His parents really did live in Canada, his dad really was ill, he did only love Fiona as a friend, and he had tried to end it on several occasions but something always happened.

  Fiona lifted her bag onto her knee. ‘I’ve got something for you. Dawn and I weren’t sure how you’d feel about this so you can say no if it’s too much.’

  She reached into her handbag and took out something wrapped in a carrier bag. ‘We had Adam cremated,’ she said. ‘It felt wrong to scatter his ashes near me when I wasn’t the keeper of his heart.’ She placed a wooden box on the table. ‘I think he’d want his resting place to be near you, especially as he’d have been with you for real now if he hadn’t died.’

  My hand shook as I slowly reached out and touched the pale wood. My fingertips rested on the box for a moment, then I withdrew my hand.

  ‘He might not have gone through with it,’ I said. ‘He’d been seeing me for 18 months and he’d never left you during that time. He might still have stood me up. He might still have chosen you.’

  She shook her head. ‘He loved you, Jemma. Not me. He never did and, as I said, I always knew it. I kidded myself that our friendship was enough to keep our marriage going but, when he discovered the real thing, it couldn’t compete. He chose you.’

  ‘You don’t know that. He’d already ghosted me once. He could have done it again.’

  ‘He could have, but he wasn’t going to.’ Fiona took a phone out of her bag. I recognised it immediately as Scott’s. She tapped a few buttons then passed it to me. It was open on his emails and, specifically, confirmation of an appointment with a divorce lawyer.

  I looked up at Fiona, biting my lip.

  ‘Now click on the notes App,’ she said.

  I did as instructed and saw calculations for how he could financially support his family and still put money away for our wedding. There was also a list of items he could sell to raise more money.

  I handed the phone back to Fiona. He’d told me on the evening we got back together tha
t he’d done both of those things and, once again, he’d been telling the truth. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s not your fault. I caused this and I’m here to put things right.’ She pointed at the phone. ‘I don’t think it gets much clearer than all of that, does it? He chose you and, strange as it may sound, I’m glad he found the real thing before he died, even if it wasn’t with me.’

  A sudden gust of wind made me shiver and pull my coat more tightly around my body. It was a fairly mild evening, especially compared to Bonfire Night, but it certainly wasn’t warm enough to be sitting on a metal bench for an hour and a quarter. I glanced at my watch. Karen was only fifteen minutes into her hour-long session. I decided to take a walk along the promenade and phone the London flat, hoping that the walk would warm me up and help the time to pass. The phone rang for ages. 7.15pm on a Friday night probably wasn’t a good time to catch anyone. I was just about to hang up when a croaky voice answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi. It’s Jemma. Who’s that? You sound awful.’

  ‘Jem! It’s Tiff. Sorry. I’m full of cold. I think I might even be bordering on man-flu.’

  ‘That bad eh?’

  ‘Definitely. How’s life up north?’

  ‘Not so good. I had some awful news today…’

  ‘Could she have been lying?’ Tiff croaked after I’d told her all about Fiona’s visit, my voice cracking at regular intervals.

  ‘I don’t think so. She had no reason to. I was already out of his life, thanks to the text she sent. Besides, she brought his ashes with her.’

  ‘It could be dust in there and you’d never know. Wait a second.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ But it was quiet so I’d have to wait. My eyes strayed towards Karen’s small group. They seemed to be doing some sort of relay in pairs. One did burpees while the other ran along the promenade and back, then they swapped. I felt exhausted just watching them.

  ‘I’m back,’ Tiff said. ‘Sorry, Jem, but she’s telling you the truth.’

  ‘Have you consulted your crystal ball?’

  ‘Yes. It’s called Google. I found an obituary in the local paper, a couple of articles about him, and a tribute on his company’s website. He’s really gone.’

  The tears started again. ‘I didn’t get to say goodbye,’ I squeaked.

  ‘I know. I’m so sorry, Jem. He was far too young. It doesn’t seem fair.’ She paused for a coughing fit. ‘Sorry about that. What happens now?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I’ve spent the last four months getting over him whilst believing he was the bad guy who’d broken my heart and let me down yet again. Turns out it was really his heart that was broken and had let him down instead.’

  Karen stared at me, eyes wide, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe it! I knew something had happened, but I thought your mum had maybe had a setback. Shit, Jem, I’m so sorry.’

  Tears filled Karen’s eyes and she quickly swiped at them. ‘Look at me. I barely knew the guy and it’s set me off. How are you coping?’

  I shrugged. Glancing around Blue Savannah at the laughing couples, families and groups of friends, my eyes rested on the booth where I’d introduced Scott to their full English breakfast. I could almost visualise him sitting there, smiling at me, telling me he loved the breakfast but he loved me more. He was always saying things like that.

  I turned back to Karen. ‘I’m a bit numb at the moment.’

  ‘Will you scatter his ashes?’

  ‘Yes, but not yet. I don’t think it’s healthy to have a box of someone’s ashes sat at home as some sort of shrine. I don’t know where I’ll do it, though. He really liked it here, but he’d only been here three times so we didn’t have a special place as such. I’ll need to think.’

  ‘You know I’m here for you if you want company when you do it,’ Karen said.

  I smiled. ‘I know. I appreciate it.’ I sipped on my pint.

  ‘A toast?’ Karen suggested, raising her glass of tonic water.

  I raised my wine. ‘To Scott, the love of my life, taken far too soon.’ My eyes blurred as I clinked my glass against Karen’s. The lump in my throat was so big, I could barely swallow my drink.

  ‘Have you told your mum?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Not yet. I want her to enjoy her relaxation day. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’

  ‘When I was doing yoga with her on Wednesday, she was like a different woman.’

  I smiled. ‘All thanks to Sam. Another strongly worded complaint has gone to the hospital about that idiot Dr Steadman. I can’t believe he didn’t do that dementia test on her after the Fountain Street incident. If it hadn’t been for Sam going completely out of his way to help her, I don’t know where we’d be.’

  ‘What’s next for you two?’

  ‘Sam and me? I don’t know. Still friends. Perhaps.’

  Karen frowned. ‘Why do you say “perhaps”?’

  ‘We met in the first place because I needed advice about Mum but I don’t need that anymore as he’s diagnosed the problem. If I’d still been living in London, we’d have met up regularly. We could have scoured London together for decent real ale establishments. Now that I’m living here, things will probably just peter out.’

  ‘Bollocks!’ Karen cried, drawing attention from the tables around us.

  I sank down in my seat. ‘Karen!’

  ‘Well, it is. You’re smitten with him. Every time you talk about him, your whole face lights up. You want to rip off his clothes and bump uglies with him.’

  ‘I do not! Okay, I did, but how can I even think about that after the news I got today?’

  Karen ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. ‘Sorry, Jem, but I’m going to have to say this. If I word it badly, I’m sorry. You’re better with stuff this like.’

  ‘Do I need another drink?’

  ‘Yes. I think so. I wish I wasn’t driving so I could have one too.’

  ‘You’re making me nervous,’ I said.

  I returned from the bar with another round of drinks. ‘Hit me with it.’

  ‘When we were at school, there were some nasty girls who liked to bully others. You got upset about it and nagged the Head until the school agreed to design an anti-bullying policy and take action against anyone breaching it. Remember?’

  ‘I remember.’ I narrowed my eyes at Karen, having absolutely no idea where this was going.

  ‘That situation, when we were 13, represents the type of kid you were back then and the woman you are today. You’re a genuinely lovely person. I don’t know if it comes from a lifetime of being surrounded by teddy bears, if you made your Brownie promise at seven and felt tied to it for life, or whether it’s simply in your DNA, but you’ve always refused to get involved in bitchiness and you’ve always put others first. You’ve also got a really sense of what’s right and what’s wrong.’ Karen sipped on her drink. ‘Please don’t get mad at me, but the Jemma I know and love would not have let her fiancé abandon his wife and babies to be with her, no matter how much she loved him. Come on, Jem, you know I’m right. I know you loved Scott and I know how devastated you were when you found out about his other life but you said yourself that you couldn’t be with a liar and a cheat. I get why you gave him a second chance. As I said at the time, I’d have done the same for Ryan. But I’m not as nice as you and my morals aren’t as strong. If Scott hadn’t died that night, your relationship probably wouldn’t have lasted. You couldn’t have done it to her or to yourself. You’re not like that. The guilt would have eaten away at you and destroyed your love for Scott.’ She grimaced. ‘Sorry. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t say that.’

  I sipped on my drink, thinking about what she’d said. ‘Oh my God,’ I muttered.

  ‘Oh my God, you’re a genius and you know me better than I know myself, or oh my God, you’re a bitch for bring
ing this up when I’ve just found out he’s dead.’

  I had to laugh at that. ‘The former.’

  ‘Really?’ Karen visibly relaxed. ‘Thank God for that.’

  We had no way of knowing what the future would really have held for Scott and me, but Karen knew me well. It would have eaten away at me to the point where I’d have pushed him back to Fiona, even if he hadn’t wanted to go, because I couldn’t live with the guilt. We chatted more about where this left me, then we moved onto cheerier subjects like how Ryan’s and Steff’s marathon training was going, and how rapidly their bootcamp business was growing. It was lovely to see my friend so animated about her business success. I remembered the long hours and hard work she’d put into getting it off the ground, but it was clearly paying off now.

  Leaving Blue Savannah later that evening, we set off along the promenade as Karen had parked at the Sea Rescue Sanctuary.

  ‘It’s busy down here tonight,’ Karen said, nodding towards a large group of drinkers congregated in front of some of the beach huts. She sniffed. ‘Is that a barbeque? In November?’

  I stopped and grabbed Karen’s arm. ‘Crap! That’ll be Nikki’s memorial thing. I thought it would be finished by now. Sam wanted space. If I walk past, it’ll look like I’m ignoring that.’

  Karen linked my arm and we wandered along the beach instead, taking it steady to avoid abandoned sandcastles and ditches. There was just enough light from the promenade to illuminate our way, aided by an almost-full moon.

  We sped up as we passed the group. Sam had been right: not a “small” gathering by any stretch of the imagination. There had to be at least 60 people there. Poor Sam. He’d have hated it. I found myself wondering if he was still there or whether he’d managed to make his excuses to slip away.