1
Eden could have recited the episode ofPaddington Bearher son was watching word for word. She could have done the same thing with every episode of the series on Netflix, because she’d listened to each of them at least two hundred times since the show had become Teddie’s obsession, his comfort blanket in a world that felt unpredictable and scary. It was funny when she thought back to all the plans she’d had for motherhood when she’d been pregnant. She was going to be one of those craft-loving mothers, who sat side by side with their child doing finger painting and colouring in, or making elaborate Picasso-esque portraits from artfully arranged pasta shapes. Screen time would be strictly limited and she absolutely would not, no way ever, allow a child to become so obsessed by a TV show that she sometimes suspected he loved it more than he loved her. But then she’d never expected to have a beautiful little boy, with a smile that could light up any room, who also happened to be autistic.
Teddie didn’t play the way other children did; he wasn’t interested in any of the mountain of toys he got for his birthday or Christmas. His favourite thing in the world was standing by the widescreen TV in his grandparents’ lounge, just as he was doing right now, his arms shooting up in excitement and a wordless shout of delight bouncing off the walls, as Paddington embarked on another adventure. Teddie’s stimming was his way of expressing himself, because he didn’t have the words. Eden’s mother called it ‘Teddie’s dancing’, and most of the time the action was joyful enough for a casual observer to believe that’s what it was. He might be non-verbal at four years old, but he’d learned his own way of communicating and getting the adults who knew him best to understand what he wanted.
Before Teddie was born, it had been Eden’s mother and Teddie’s father who had caused her the most worry. Now she was back living with her parents, her worries about her mother weren’t so pronounced. Karen was trying really hard to be a different person to the one Eden had grown up with. It wasn’t easy to undo the impact of her mother’s past behaviour, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully trust in Karen the way most people trusted their parents, but they’d made a lot of progress, especially since she’d come home. As for Teddie’s father, she had no idea where he was and she didn’t want to know, but he continued to haunt her thoughts and every time the phone rang she was still terrified it might be him, or about him. Jesse’s behaviour had ended up controlling almost every aspect of her life, but the level of manipulation he’d applied had meant she’d barely even realised it was happening at first. He’d played the victim so expertly and made her believe she was doing something awful every time she tried to exert her independence or even have an opinion of her own. It had affected her ability to trust in anyone or anything in the end, even her own judgement, and she might never have made the break away if it hadn’t been for Teddie. Her son had given her the strength to walk out and not look back. She couldn’t allow Jesse to take up space in her head any more, and the concerns she might once have had about him paled into insignificance against the worries she now had about their son. Although currently her biggest concern was how she was going to drag Teddie’s attention away from the TV before they both ended up being very late.
‘Come on then bubs, it’s time to go.’ Eden knew the only chance she had of getting his attention was to switch off the TV. Within seconds of pressing the standby button on the remote and setting it down on the table, Teddie picked it up again and handed it to her, his bright blue eyes so expectant she almost gave in. They couldn’t be late, though, not today. St Piran’s hospital, where Eden worked in the A&E department, was undergoing an inspection by the Care Quality Commission and the last thing she wanted was to let any of her colleagues down by being late for a shift. Again.
‘I’m sorry Teddie, but we’ve really got to get going today, I promise you can watch some morePaddingtonlater.’ Eden always spoke to Teddie as if he understood every word she was saying, but one of the hardest parts of his diagnosis was having no idea whether or not he did. She didn’t know whether the promise she’d just made her son gave him any comfort, or whether the action of turning off the television had left him fearful that he might never see his beloved cartoon bear again. The second hardest part of his diagnosis was that there was no way of knowing whether Teddie would ever speak. She longed to hear him call her mummy, but more than that she wanted him to be able to tell her he was okay, or even that he wasn’t. She hoped with all her heart that it would happen one day, but in the meantime she’d continue to be his voice, and to fight for all the things he needed, even if that felt like scaling Everest in concrete-filled wellingtons.
Scooping up her son, Eden headed towards the front door, picking up both of their rucksacks on the way, feeling like one of the sherpas she might have met on Mount Everest. Teddie almost certainly wouldn’t be willing to walk all the way to nursery, despite the fact it was less than two hundred metres from their front door. He might start off okay, but after anything between four and forty steps, Teddie would suddenly go completely limp, like the bones in his legs had turned to jelly and she’d have to carry him. The only time he didn’t do that was when he was ‘making a break for freedom’, as Eden’s mother called it. Teddie could suddenly decide to run with no warning and absolutely no sense of danger, which meant of the two options, Eden preferred to carry him.
Despite the fact that there were only around seven things Teddie was prepared to eat, he was surprisingly heavy and if they’d been going any further, she’d have put him in the buggy designed for children with special needs, which she’d purchased when he’d outgrown his pushchair. Thankfully they were only going across the road to Little Sunbeams, the on-site nursery that had opened at St Piran’s hospital the year before. When Teddie had started there, Eden hadn’t held out much hope of him settling in, especially after his previous nursery had suggested he reduced his session times to just an hour a day because of the demands he placed on staff time. How Eden was supposed to balance that with a job in A&E was anyone’s guess.
Much to her surprise, Teddie seemed to be far happier at Little Sunbeams, but even there he only did three half-day sessions a week. Thankfully Eden’s parents were able to help her out the rest of the time. She had a part-time contract for twenty-two hours a week, but the shifts were split between days that could start as early as 7a.m., or as late as 3p.m., as well as overnights, which no nursery could accommodate, so her parents’ support was invaluable. Eden was also trying hard to save for her and Teddie to get a place of their own, so she picked up extra night shifts whenever she could. Buying a place in Port Kara was going to be far from cheap and the messy end to her relationship with Teddie’s father had meant walking away from their joint savings, just to escape. All she’d had was the little bit of money she’d managed to squirrel away. It was yet one more reason she was thankful that she’d had her parents’ place to return to.
‘Come on bubs, at least try to cling on a bit to make it easier for Mummy.’ Eden issued the instruction as she shut the front door behind them. Her parents had gone out early to get a round of golf in at The Dunes, a course on the other side of Port Tremellien, with stunning views of the sea and what her father described as the best bacon sandwiches in Cornwall. Today her shift was starting at 9a.m., and whenever Eden was able to take Teddie to nursery herself, her parents would book themselves an early tee-time, sneak in a quick nine holes and finish the morning with a late breakfast, before heading back to pick up Teddie. It was one of the only occasions when her mother seemed to relax; the rest of the time she was looking up her latest obsession on the internet and getting involved in whatever groups or activities that threw up. Still, if she was going to be addicted to anything, there were worse things than the internet, the whole family could attest to that.
Dashing across the road, Eden was thankful she could see the building where Little Sunbeams was situated. It was close enough for her to believe she could get there, despite the rucksacks that insisted on slipping off both her shoulders, and Teddie doing his very best impression of a human paving slab. He might not be willing to cling on right now, koala-bear-style, in the way she wanted him to, but there was no doubting he’d give her a hug if she asked for one. In all the challenges of his diagnosis and the uncertainty of what that meant, one thing Eden had always been grateful for was the fact that he was so affectionate. Teddie could give the tightest, most passionate hugs, which had the power to make the whole world right, if you were on the very short list of people he deemed deserving of one.
Sometimes the fierceness of his affection got the better of Teddie, and he’d sink his teeth into Eden’s shoulder because he didn’t have the words to tell her how big his feelings were. It hurt, a lot, but she’d realised a long time ago that when it came to Teddie, she had to take the rough with the smooth, and she wouldn’t have traded those hugs for anything, even if they occasionally came at a cost. In the groups she belonged to for parents of autistic children, it had soon become clear that not all of the children were able to demonstrate affection, and it would have broken Eden’s heart if Teddie had been one of them. All the hard days, the battles for the support he needed, and the looks from people who didn’t understand his behaviour, faded to nothing when he put his little arms around her neck and squeezed her tight. It would have been so much harder without that.
Drop off at the nursery always went the same way. Eden would take Teddie over to ‘his’ corner of the nursery. It was an area that had been specially created for him; it was cordoned off with half-height wooden panels, almost like an indoor Wendy house, without the roof. It had sensory toys, with light, texture and sound to engage Teddie, and most of all it afforded him space away from the demands of other children, which were often too much for him. Shannon, who managed the nursery, and who was on Teddie’s very short list of those who deserved his hugs, was someone else Eden was incredibly grateful for. She’d understood Teddie’s needs from day one and she didn’t view him as some kind of burden, like the staff at his first nursery had, and Eden loved her for it.
‘How did he sleep last night?’ It was the same question Shannon always asked and until recently the answer had often been the same too. Terribly. For the past two months there’d been some more variety in Eden’s response. Teddie’s paediatrician had prescribed melatonin, because of the difficultly he had with sleeping, like many children with autism. It had been a game changer for all of them. It didn’t mean that every night was a good one, but sometimes he slept as much as ten hours without disturbance. The first time he’d had a good night, Eden had woken up with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed, gripped with fear about why he hadn’t woken. Teddie had been fine, but it had taken some getting used to, and there were still nights when neither of them got anywhere near as much sleep as they needed.
‘Pretty good and he managed some toast and peanut butter this morning.’ Eden smiled. ‘But if there are any issues today, please can you call Mum, rather than me? She said she’s willing to risk getting banned from the golf club by taking a call on the course and I’m not going to be able to get away from work, not when we’ve got the inspection.’
‘Of course, but there won’t be anything we can’t handle, will there, Teddie?’ Shannon brushed a hand over the blond curls that were so like his father’s and such a stark contrast to Eden’s straight, dark brown hair, although he had the same sky-blue eyes as his mother. Even as Shannon ruffled Teddie’s hair, he didn’t look at her. He’d just started responding to his name, but it was still pretty hit-and-miss, and it required a lot of tenacity just to get him to react.
‘Thank you.’ Eden’s shoulders relaxed a little bit. It had been a few weeks since Teddie had experienced one of his meltdowns, when no amount of comforting could take the edge off his heightened emotions. There was nothing that could be done other than to let the feelings play out, but that wasn’t fair on the other children. So, when it happened, either Eden or her parents would collect Teddie and take him home. She really hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days. She looked over at him now, as he tipped one of the sensory toys upside down, watching bubbles of colour drip slowly in the opposite direction, mesmerising him. ‘I’m just going to slip away, while he’s not watching.’
Eden almost whispered the last words, knowing Shannon would understand why she wasn’t saying goodbye to her son. If she slipped away, she’d be out of sight and out of mind, but if she made a big fuss of leaving it might cause him unnecessary distress.
‘See you later. He’ll be fine, don’t worry.’ It was the same assurance Shannon gave her each time, and Eden knew it was true, but that didn’t stop her worrying every spare moment she got during her working day, about whether Teddie really was okay without her. The upside of a job as demanding as hers, was that she barely had any of those spare moments when she was on shift and it was just one more thing Eden was thankful for.
* * *
The emergency department was busy as usual, and Eden glanced quickly at the patients waiting to be seen. They were a mixture of ages, from the elderly to very young children, one of whom was sobbing loudly, his face buried against his mother’s chest as she tried to soothe him, looking as if she might be on the verge of tears herself. Two rows in front of them was someone Eden recognised. Ali was such a permanent fixture of the emergency department that he should have had his own chair, and she didn’t need years of training to guess the reason for his visit.
Hurrying through to her locker, despite the fact she was early for once, Eden dropped off her rucksack and took a deep breath to ready herself for the shift ahead, and to try and put aside her worries about Teddie for long enough to focus on her job. He’d be fine, deep down she knew that, but having sole responsibility for worrying about him almost from the moment he was born had changed Eden. Her parents worried about him too of course, and they’d shouldered a lot of responsibility for his care since she’d come home, but when push came to shove it was down to Eden to make sure her son was okay. She hadn’t planned to be a mother, hadn’t felt ready, but from the moment he’d come along he’d become the reason for everything she did. Despite the reality, at work it was easier to be the carefree version of herself she’d been before she met Jesse and her world had been upended in a way that had left her fearful about whether she’d even survive the experience. It was why she’d had to take Teddie and run while they had the chance.
Jesse had taken away her freedom bit by bit. It had started by him guilt tripping her every time she did something that didn’t involve him. He became paranoid and threatened to hurt himself if she didn’t do what he wanted, saying he couldn’t cope without her there, playing on her sympathy for the trauma he’d experienced as a child. It had meant she hadn’t ended the relationship when she knew she should. Then the behaviour had escalated, and he’d lied to her so much she was no longer sure if any of their relationship had been based on truth. He’d told her he couldn’t have children, due to treatment for childhood cancer, and then she’d fallen pregnant with Teddie. It had added a whole new layer of control and guilt tripping. Did she really want to be the one who came between Teddie and his father, when both she and Jesse had been put through so much by their own parents? It was only when she could see Jesse’s behaviour negatively impacting on Teddie, and his complete inability to put his son’s needs before his own, that she realised staying with him would do Teddie far more harm than good.
In the years with Jesse it hadn’t felt like she’d had a life of her own and even now it sometimes felt as if her only identity was as Teddie’s mother. She didn’t resent that, because it was the most important part of her life, but work provided the respite that Eden had to admit she needed. When she was nursing, she didn’t have to be the mother fighting to find her son a place in a school that could meet his needs, and being told there weren’t enough spaces to go around. It seemed insane for the local authority to want to put him in a class with children who’d be learning phonics and writing their names, before Teddie could even say ‘Mama’, and she wasn’t prepared to accept it. Going along with it wouldn’t be fair, not to Teddie, the other children, or the teachers. She’d fight tooth and nail to get specialist schooling for her son if she had to, and advocating for Teddie brought out the tigress in her. On shift she was another version of herself altogether, the Eden who liked nothing better than a laugh with her colleagues, hearing about the minutiae of their lives and offering up her advice when she was asked for it as though she knew how to make the best kind of decisions. The truth was that most of the decisions she’d made in the past had been because she thought they were right for other people, rather than for herself. It was partly a legacy of the issues she’d had with her mother when she was growing up, but her tendency to put other people’s needs before her own had rocketed to a whole new level during her relationship with Jesse. He’d robbed her of the ability to fight for what she believed in, because it was easier to go along with what he wanted. Becoming a shell of who she was had robbed her of her confidence too, but all of that was changing. Now she did what she thought was best for Teddie and for herself, because Eden had finally come to realise that if she didn’t look after herself, she wouldn’t be able to look after him either.
‘Any sign of the inspectors yet?’ Eden lowered her voice as she approached Meg and Zahir, two of the A&E doctors, who were huddled together by one of the computers like students cramming for their final exams.
‘One of the inspectors is interviewing Eve.’ Zahir pulled a face. ‘It’s her first day back and she’s been dragged straight in for the third degree.’
‘Poor thing.’ Eden hadn’t even met Eve yet. She was another doctor on the team, but she’d taken extended leave for personal reasons before Eden had even started at the hospital. As Eden had quickly discovered, St Piran’s could be a hotbed of gossip and usually someone would have had an idea why Eve needed personal leave, but no one seemed to know much about Eve at all and, according to the other nurses, she’d kept herself pretty much to herself since joining the team. Meg had been brought in on an agency contract to cover Eve’s leave period, but now she was being kept on permanently too, following some other staffing changes. Meg was probably the person Eden was closest to in the department, they’d started at the same time and they had a similar sense of humour. Although if Eden was honest, she didn’t know that much about Meg either, not beyond the superficial. Meg would probably have said the same about her, and Eden was glad that her new friend seemed happy to keep things surface level. They could have a chat and go for lunch together, but Meg wasn’t constantly suggesting drinks or drawing on Eden’s time outside of work. Meg didn’t ask Eden probing personal questions either, and Eden returned the favour. Despite that, she knew her friend had been nervous about meeting the person whose job she’d been covering, although from the sound of things she still hadn’t had the chance to put a face to a name.
Eden looked over her shoulder to check who was listening before continuing the conversation, as if expecting one of the inspectors to jump out from behind a cubicle curtain. ‘It seems a bit unfair when Eve’s been off for so long.’
‘Apparently they wanted to speak to her about how Human Resources and the department management handled her request for leave and her return to work.’ Zahir, who was acting clinical lead, looked pensive. ‘She’s either in there telling them I’ve been empathetic and supportive, or that I’m a total arsehole; either way my ears are burning.’
‘I wouldn’t say you were a total arsehole. You do have some redeeming qualities, I just can’t remember what any of them are right now. So I might need to do some revision before the inspectors call me in.’ Aidan, one of the most senior nurses on the team, grinned. He could get away with taking the mickey out of Zahir because everyone knew his jokes were intended to lighten the mood, and everybody loved Aidan.
