“I don’t want you to worry, Olivia,” Tina said just as she was about to bid her good night. Olivia paused, one hand on the bedroom door.
“Of course I’ll worry, Mum,” she said. “I love you. I want you to be well.”
Tina shook her head. “It would be different if you were married and had your own family,” she said, making Olivia flinch a little. “But you’re all alone. It’s not right for you to have to bear the burden of—of taking care of me.”
“You did the same for me,” Olivia reminded her rather fiercely. “For all my life. And it hasn’t come to that yet, Mum. It’s just a test.”
Tina smiled sadly and Olivia was jolted to her core. The look in her mum’s eyes said as plainly as could be that she knew what the result of the test was going to be.
Back in the car Olivia slid into the passenger seat, her body and heart both aching. It was nearly ten o’clock, and Simon had been waiting in the car for almost an hour.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said dully. “I didn’t realise how long I was taking.”
“It’s no problem.” He started the car and then pulled out into the dark, empty street. Olivia leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes, fighting a fear and grief that felt as if it could overwhelm her. “Do you want to talk about it?” Simon asked quietly, making her jerk a little bit.
“Talk about it? Do you know…?”
“I don’t know anything, only that something seems to be going on that’s more than an accident at the stove.” He paused. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I really don’t mean to pry.”
“I know. Thanks.” She took a shuddering breath, wanting someone to confide in, but unsure whether it should be Simon. I barely know him seemed to be her constant refrain, and yet he was the one who had been there when her mum had had her accident, and he’d been the one to drive them to the hospital and wait while she was seen.
“The doctor referred her to the GP for a cognitive test,” she blurted. It almost felt like a relief to say it somehow, to share it. “I have to ring tomorrow.”
“A cognitive test.” Simon repeated the words neutrally.
“Yes.” While her mum had been in the loo Olivia had searched on her phone and scrolled through the ten warning signs of dementia, her heart plummeting with each one. Difficulty completing normal tasks…confusion…apathy…changes in mood…difficulty with spatial orientation, which can result in seeming clumsiness…and accidents. Burns. Olivia swallowed hard. “It’s a test for dementia,” she clarified, and Simon nodded.
“Yes.”
“I think I was afraid of something like this ever since she burned herself,” Olivia admitted. “All evening, while we were waiting, I felt this panic that didn’t make sense if it really was just a burn. But of course it isn’t.”
“You don’t know that…”
“No, but I think she does. The look on her face…” Olivia shook her head, her throat closing up. She didn’t want to lose it in front of Simon. They hadn’t even gone on their date yet.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” he said, his voice so heartfelt it made her eyes sting. “I really am sorry.”
“Thank you.”
They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey back to Wychwood-on-Lea, which was a relief. Simon parked in front of Tea on the Lea, and when Olivia turned to bid him farewell, as well as a huge thank you, he gave her a lopsided smile.
“I’ll see you to the door.”
She fumbled with the key, feeling both awkward in Simon’s presence and yet desperately not wanting to be alone. As she stepped into the shop Dr Jekyll let out a yowl and jumped into her arms, making Olivia let out a screech of surprise even as she instinctively clasped him to her chest. She stumbled back into Simon, who steadied her, his hands warm and solid on her shoulders. Her back collided with his chest.
“Sorry…” she mumbled, embarrassed and off balance, her arms full of aggrieved feline. “He hasn’t been fed, poor cat.” Dr Jekyll deigned to show his displeasure by digging his claws deep into Olivia’s arms and she let out a little yelp.
“Sorry,” she said again as she stepped away from Simon. “He’s a bit of a crazy cat.” Which was an understatement. “He’s called Dr Jekyll.”
“Ah. The name says it all, really.”
“Yes. I’d better get him some food.” She moved towards the stairs in the back of the shop that led up to her flat, realising belatedly that Simon hadn’t actually left. She turned around and he gave her an awkward smile.
“Sorry, I’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay on your own.”
“Ye-es…” Olivia began, but to her mortification, her voice wobbled all over the place and ended on something that sounded alarmingly close to a sob.
“Oh, Olivia.” With his face full of sympathy, Simon walked towards her and then put his arms around her, cat and all. Dr Jekyll let out an indignant yowl and jumped out of her arms, leaving Olivia free to put her arms around Simon, which she realised she very much wanted to do.
There was nothing romantic about their hug; it was a gesture solely of comfort and compassion, understanding and sympathy, and Olivia needed it very, very much.
She breathed in the scent of Simon—frosty air and wool scarf, a hint of lemony aftershave. She closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his arms around her, his body next to hers. When had she last been hugged properly, not just a quick side-arm or excited squeeze by one of her friends? She couldn’t even remember, but she knew now that she’d missed it. A lot.
Eventually, though, she knew she had to break the hug; Dr Jekyll made that obvious when he wound his way between their legs, yowling plaintively.
“Sorry,”
