Later in the service the lights were dimmed and candles passed around as Simon performed a solo on the cello for “Silent Night,” everyone singing along softly. Olivia watched as a hundred different candle flames flickered throughout the church, and she closed her eyes to offer a silent prayer of gratitude.
The challenges, she discovered, came sooner than she might have wished. After enjoying yet more mulled wine—it seemed no one offered anything else for the entire month of December—and a shop-bought mince pie, they all walked back to the flat. Olivia served up the fish pie while Simon and Tina chatted, and then they played a few hands of bridge afterwards while sipping thimbleful-sized glasses of sherry.
And then her mum got confused. It happened so suddenly, Olivia didn’t feel prepared. Foolishly she expected some warning, a buzzer to go off, some signal. Instead they were chatting one minute and the next her mum was looking up from her hand of cards and blinking at them both in confusion.
“Mum…?” Olivia asked, not twigging what was going on. “How many do you want to bid?”
“Bid?” Her mother looked completely blank, sounding as if she’d never heard the word before. Then she turned to Simon. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Mum—” Olivia’s voice, sharp and loud, cut through the silence before she could stop herself.
But then Simon answered easily, “I’m Simon, Olivia’s friend. We’re playing bridge.”
“Bridge…?” Still her mother looked uncomprehending, and worse, fearful.
“Yes, you love bridge, Mum. You’ve been playing it for ages.” Even though she tried not to, Olivia couldn’t keep an odd, wheedling note from entering her voice. She felt panicky, which she knew wouldn’t help, but it was as if her mother had forgotten everything in the space of a few seconds—as if her brain had been wiped clean, like a slate.
“I’m sorry…” Tina put her cards down, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Olivia tried to suppress the panic rising in her like a tide, blotting out rational thought. She knew arguing with her mum wouldn’t help, and neither would insisting on the facts as she knew them. The trouble was, she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t done enough research yet, about how to handle moments like these. She hadn’t expected them to come so soon.
“It’s all right, Tina,” Simon said, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re in the flat above the tea shop with your daughter, Olivia.” She blinked at him uncertainly while Olivia tried to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. “Would you like to go outside, get some air and clear your head? Or if you’re tired, perhaps you could go to bed? It is getting late.”
Tina shook her head slowly. “I don’t know…everything feels grey…like there’s nothing there.” Her hands knotted in her lap, her face creased with both concentration and fear.
“It’s okay, Mum,” Olivia said as steadily as she could. “It will come back. Maybe getting some rest is a good idea. It’s been a long day.”
“All right.” She rose from the table a bit unsteadily, and Simon hurried to help her. Olivia took her arm and guided her towards the spare bedroom, fetching her nightclothes and wash bag. “Can you manage? Or would you like some help…?”
“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,
