The first part of this story is from my journal notes for this day
Scott said he slept a little better and was in a pretty good mood this morning. So I tried to discuss options and goals to encourage him to make some decisions. He got nervous and unable to really respond. Said he really needed time alone to think about things (which I know won’t really work). I told him that I could head home early and he could go to the next place which he has booked for two months. We kind of dropped the topic and took the dogs for a short walk and headed into the nearby town of Beccles (12 miles, but 30 minutes) to pick up some sleep-aid natural remedy for him. Grace had suggested this and I hadn’t gotten around to talking him into it. He seemed agreeable with the idea.
It was a nice little town and he suggested we walk around a bit. We did, and saw a Barclay’s Bank. He said he would go in and move some money to his working account. I asked him if he was planning on transferring the money to Rose that he said he would. He didn’t answer, but we were walking through the door and I didn’t think anything of it. He bypassed the long line of people waiting at the windows and went to the desk at the back for personal banker services. We waited for five minutes or so, until the woman at the desk finished with a client and came out to get the fellow ahead of us. She asked Scott if he had an appointment and he said he didn’t. She said she was on alone today and had solid appointments for the rest of the day.
Scott got his tormented look on his face and moved back and forth trying to say something to her. I was in the waiting area and couldn’t hear anything. He took her into the little office and a minute later she came out and dashed to the door going into the area behind the windows. Pushed a button to get someone to let her in. For some reason they didn’t buzz her in…she just kept leaning out to look at the teller, who didn’t look up. I was standing nearby and walked over to say that maybe the teller didn’t hear the buzz and she should press the button again. She looked at me like she was afraid, and mumbled something. Then the door opened and she scooted in.
Scott was sitting at the empty desk of the other personal banker, so I figured he had talked her into getting someone else to help him.
I went over and told him I would go to the Tesco store where we had parked the car and do our grocery shopping and meet him at the car. He said great. So I did that. Shopped and then sat in the car for about an hour, and was just texting him to see if he was ok, when he got in and we took off for the cottage…about half an hour away. He drove and I navigated. I noticed he was driving faster than usual, but didn’t comment on it. We were going to stop in Halesworth to pick up the cold stuff (yogurt and little tubs of dinner), but he drove past the Co-op. I said we were going to stop there…he asked if we could do that later. I assumed he had to go to the bathroom and was rushing home.
We got to the cottage and I got the bag of groceries and my kindle out and he said that he would wait there…I usually take that stuff in and come back to help with the dogs. So did that. When I got back he was in the driver’s seat. I walked up and he ran the window down a bit and told me he wanted to sit out there for a bit. I said ok…did he want me to take the dogs in? No. Ok…figured he would call me in ten minutes and we would take the dogs for a walk.
I checked email and then laid down for a semi-nap, waiting for a call. After half an hour I walked out to see what was up and the car was gone. Texted him asking what was up, and immediately got a call from him. He thanked me for what I had done to help, but said he really needed to be alone to think about things. I said that was fine…I could head out tomorrow. Or he could give me a ride into Halesworth and I would find a way to get to Heathrow tomorrow. He couldn’t do that…he wasn’t coming back to the cottage tonight.
I pointed out that there was room for the dogs here and he wouldn’t be able to find another place for them…it is only four miles to town and I could even walk that. No.
Then he told me that he had called the police from the bank and they came over and he told them about everything. He also locked down all his bank accounts so nobody could access them. And told the police about me and that they might send a car around. I could hear the fear in his voice. I wasn’t sure if the deal with Rose was paranoia or maybe there was something to it…but I do know that I was doing everything I could to help him, so now assume he is having a mental breakdown of some sort.
So…I googled transportation from here, bought a ticket on the 7:12 train in the morning, arranged for a taxi to pick me up, and changed my flight reservation to the day after tomorrow (Wed). Leaves at 1320 and arrives at 1500, same day. Also booked a room at the Heathrow Hyatt for tomorrow.
So…interesting times.
This is from an email I sent Scott the next morning
I hope you are actually getting my emails and that you haven’t thrown away your cellphone and created more new email accounts.
For some reason, when I woke up at 3:30 I was thinking about the infection and operation you had recently. And started wondering if either the infection or one of the medications they gave you to cure it could have had a side-effect of inducing some level of paranoia in you. I know you don’t like that word, but if you are afraid of me, after all we have been through over the years, then I think you need to consider that possibility. Perhaps you should check the dogs into a good kennel and check yourself into one of the good English hospitals and have them look into that.
I’m packed (other than my laptop) and waiting for the taxi to show up just before 7.
I would wish you good luck…but luck isn’t going to solve this problem. Nor is sitting alone and thinking about it, as thinking about it just upsets you. Do you remember how you were when I got here? That is what sitting alone thinking about this gets you. Whether you want to resolve the situation with Rose or just escape from her, I don’t think you can do that on your own. You should seek some form of professional assistance.
I do hope you survive all this and find happiness someplace in the world. Feel free to contact me if you think it will help.
Steve
And this is from an email the following morning
Good morning Scott…or afternoon or evening. Guess I don’t when or even if you will read this. I know that you don’t enjoy reading, but if you won’t talk to me this is the only way I can communicate with you.
I’m across from Heathrow now, waiting for the breakfast thing to open so I can get some coffee and something to eat. Will be taking off in about seven hours, and on the ground in Seattle about nine hour later.
I hope you understand that I am not upset by your actions the day before yesterday. I don’t tend to get upset about things…I try to gather information and evaluate the situation. If there is something I can do to resolve it, I do that. If not, I move on to other things that I can do something about. So although I don’t think that your actions were particularly productive for you, they did launch me on a mini-adventure that I found to be rather enjoyable…that is the taxi/train/bus travel across some beautiful country to this airport. And, though I will miss being around you and the dogs (well, under the circumstances mostly the dogs), I will be happy to be back with my family for a visit before moving on to some other mini-adventure.
I would like to ask you a question about survey work. If you are gathering side-scan sonar data, and the sonar gear is working perfectly, but some other function…let’s say the slant-range-correction software …isn’t working quite right, but also isn’t obviously failing, will you get an accurate image of the ocean floor? I don’t think so…even if the sonar data is spot on. You could run it over and over and you would still get a distorted image.
I think that is kind of what is happening with you right now. You may have a lot of information, but some little subroutine in your brain is distorting it as you process it. You can process it over and over (that is sit and think about it), but unless you fix that subroutine, you will never get a clear image.
I’m saying this not because of the things you have said about Rose…I wasn’t there and don’t have accurate information about that. I don’t actually know what Rose or you or anyone else was thinking. And although you claim to know what pretty much everyone around you is thinking…you don’t. You just know what you think they are thinking. There is an entire science and a lot of books about the relationship between what I think, what you think, and what I think you are thinking. Gets pretty complex.
However, I do know what I think. And if you think I would do anything to harm you, and you feel that you need to sneak off to escape from me, then it is pretty obvious to me that you don’t understand me and certainly don’t know what I am thinking.
That is what led me to make the comments about your infection and its treatment in an email yesterday. I think it is possible that something in that process may have messed up some subroutine in your mind, and until you get that fixed you won’t be able to accurately process the information available to you and get a clean image.
I have a little recent experience with this, in that one of Mike’s problems was a brain tumor that was pressing on some spot in his brain and that distorted his thinking process. Mike is also brilliant, but he wasn’t able to self-analyze this situation and fix it. Turned out he was a couple days away from dying when Dow and I forced him to go to the emergency room and get some tests. They discovered the tumor and the lung cancer and air-lifted him to Harborview hospital in Seattle. The cut open his skull and removed the tumor the next day. Which now allows him to live for a while longer, until the lung cancer kills him. Guess I’m not sure if we did a good thing or not…maybe he would have been better off dying months ago rather than in the next few weeks.
I may be totally wrong…there may be nothing wrong with your brain, and no bad side-effects of the medication they gave you. But there is no way to know that without you deciding to have some tests done. Since medical treatment here is free, at least you will know that the doctors aren’t trying to steal your money. Unlike in the states.
Please think about this. And please try to understand that my main desire in all this is for you to end up feeling safe and secure. If that means coming to the US…fine…I will try to help you there. But I suggest that you take care of any medical issues you have before you leave, because doing so in the US would cost a fortune. And it would be very hard for you to get insurance there. And you won’t be eligible for Medicare for a five years or so.
Scott…we have been friends for a long time, and as far as I’m concerned we are still friends. I would like you to contact me every few days…even if it is only a one-word text message or email. Let me know that you are still alive.
I have very few expenses left on this trip…less than $100. The total will be very close to (either side of) $4k. I would appreciate it if you would transfer that promptly. Not that I need it right now, but if you don’t solve this fear problem, you will probably get distracted and smash into a lorry and be the cause of your own death, which would be a bit ironic. And wouldn’t it be even more ironic if my plane crashed, or the bus taking me back to Sequim crashed and I died. On the other hand, perhaps I will meet someone on the plane and we will start a company that makes billions. Life and death are part of a massive web of coincidences and chance meetings. Please solve this problem and get on with enjoying your life.
It is now after six, so I can go downstairs and break my fast.
Steve
I continued to send emails to Scott every day for a few weeks, but never had a response. I kept up with what was going on with Scott through Nigel, who was very careful to not question anything Scott said. Around the end of the year Scott moved into his house in Bath. The two bedrooms and bathroom on the top floor had been finished, and he was arranging to have the kitchen, dining room, and living room on the middle floor remodeled…they were still mostly at the stud level. Nigel felt that he was relaxing and no longer afraid that people were trying to kill him.