‘It’s not my fault they stop the minute you’re around!’
I snap, because I was strangely annoyed that a call hadn’t come in the last two mornings. He looked at me in surprise. ‘Sorry,’ I sighed. ‘I’m just frustrated that as soon as you’re with me he doesn’t call.’ The word ‘he’
hangs in the air.
‘Well, it won’t do any harm for you to see Dr Deakin, just for a check-up.’
‘Why?’ I said, back on the defensive. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. Rachel thinks I’m suffering from burnout because so much has happened since Mum died.’
He frowned. ‘Since when did she become an expert?’
‘Well, I think she’s right.’
‘Maybe she is. But it wouldn’t do you any harm to see a doctor.’
‘I’m fine, Matthew, honestly. I just need a rest.’ I see the doubt in his eyes.
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143
‘Please will you let me make an appointment? If you
can’t do it for yourself, maybe you could do it for me. I can’t go on like this, I really can’t.’
I get a grip on myself. ‘What if they find there’s something wrong with me?’ I say, wanting to prepare him.
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know.’ I can hardly get the word out.
‘Dementia or something.’
He frowns. ‘Dementia? You’re far too young to have dementia, it’s more likely to be stress, just like you say.’
He gives my hands a little shake. ‘I just want you to have the help you need. So, can I make an appointment?’
‘If it’ll make you happy.’
‘I’m hoping it will make you happy. Because I don’t think you’re very happy at the moment, are you?’
The tears that never seem to be far away fill my eyes.
‘No,’ I say, ‘not really.’
SATURDAY AUGUST 8th
Matthew somehow managed to get a cancellation
appointment with Dr Deakin the next morning and I’m nervous. Matthew and I registered with him soon after moving into the house and I haven’t seen him yet because I haven’t been ill. I thought it was the same for Matthew so when we’re called in, it’s a surprise to find our doctor seems to know him - and even more of a surprise to find that Dr Deakin already knows all about my memory lapses.
‘I didn’t realise my husband had already spoken to you,’ I say, flustered.
‘He was concerned about you,’ Dr Deakin explains.
‘Can you tell me when you first noticed that you were having trouble remembering things?’
Matthew gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and I resist the urge to snatch it away. I try to ignore the sense of betrayal that I feel but the fact that they’ve been Title: The Breakdown ARC, Format: 126x198, v1, Output date:08/11/16
146
b a paris
discussing me without my knowledge makes me feel at a disadvantage.
‘I’m not sure,’ I say, because I don’t want to admit to things that Matthew hadn’t noticed at the time because I’d managed to cover them up. ‘A few weeks ago, I suppose. Matthew had to come and rescue me in the supermarket because I’d left my purse at home.’
‘But before that you went all the way to Castle Wells without your bag – and what about that time you left half the shopping in the supermarket,’ Matthew says quietly.
‘Oh yes, I forgot about those,’ I say, realising too late that I’ve just admitted to another memory lapse.
‘Those sort of things can happen to anybody,’ Dr Deakin says reassuringly and I’m glad he’s a grandfa-therly kind of doctor who’s been around a bit and knows how life works and not someone straight out of medical school who does everything by the textbook. ‘I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. However, I would like to ask you about your family history,’ he goes on, dashing my hopes that our session is over. ‘I know you no longer have your parents but can I ask what they died of?’
‘My father was killed in a car accident – he was run over while crossing the road outside our house. And my mother died of pneumonia.’
‘And did either of them show any signs of other illnesses before they died?’ he asks.
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147
‘My mother had dementia.’ Beside me, Matthew
gives a start of surprise, only a small one but I sense it nonetheless.
‘And can you tell me when it was diagnosed?’
My skin has flushed so hot I’m certain Dr Deakin has noticed. I look down, flicking my hair over my face ‘In 2002.’
‘And she would have been how old?’
‘Forty-four,’ I say, quietly. I can’t look at Matthew.